OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: OF SIGNALS THAT BREACHED, SYSTEMS THAT FRACTURED,

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: OF SIGNALS THAT BREACHED, SYSTEMS THAT FRACTURED, AND TRUTHS THAT REFUSED TO STAY BURIED

Xythe's POV

ECLIPSA SANCTUM — SIGIL HEART HALL | 20:47

The lights in the Sigil Heart Hall were dimmed—standard post-op protocol. Cold. Efficient. The obsidian war table thrummed softly beneath my fingers, power lying dormant, patient. The door sealed behind me with that unmistakable finality.

Every seat around the table was filled.

Every seat, that is, except one.

The Princess wasn't here. She was at the Home for Angels—with him. Tofer and Seb were monitoring from remote link-points. If anyone moved wrong, made a mistake, we'd be there in under sixty seconds. Quiet assurance. Necessary. Enough.

But for now, she was the only one not breathing this war room's recycled air.

I moved to my usual quadrant—left flank of the tri-core formation—and unclasped the fractured blade I'd been carrying. Set it deliberately in the magnetic slot beside my seat.

It wasn't mine. It had belonged to one of them. A reminder. A variable. Something to account for.

Thres had retrieved it. Still blood-wet. Still humming with residual neural charge. A Halcyon memory blade—etched with kill codes, disposable, untraceable.

But we'd traced it anyway.

Lyle gave me a nod. That meant: You lead this one.

I registered it without hesitation. Responsibility. Opportunity. Risk. Calculated and stored.

I tapped the pulse interface embedded in the table.

A low hum stirred as holographics sprang to life—blue-white schematics of Supreme Allievo Academy's floorplans, distorted Veil readings, reconstructed trajectory patterns of the three intruders who nearly reached Khaizer Dylan.

"Operation: Nullstorm," I began. Precise. Unflinching. "Unofficial. Unsanctioned. Failed. Three Halcyon-tier operatives breached campus parameters at 12:44 PM under Veil distortion masking. Entry vector: South Gate blindspot. Disguised as upperclass Allievo uniforms—non-insignia, biosynthetic stitching, neuro-boosted joints."

Every word measured, cataloged. Every variable noted. Nothing left to chance.

The map zoomed in. Motion paths flared.

"Objective was targeted elimination or destabilization of Khaizer Dylan Dela Vega. They were minutes from contact when Ari intercepted."

I paused. Observed reactions. Calculated gaps.

"Seb and I confirmed after-action clearance. No residual trackers. No biometric traces left behind."

Thres grunted softly. "Blades were etched with memory razors."

"Correct," I said. "They weren't here to capture. They were here to erase."

"Erase what?" Keryn asked, voice clipped.

"Echo-9 maybe," I answered. "Or anything left of him that might be remembered."

A pause.

Then Lyle's voice—measured, low, sharp. "Rowan Lopez."

Heads turned.

Lyle looked at me. He already knew. We all did. But we needed it said aloud.

I nodded. "Rowan wasn't deployed. But I believe this was a pressure test. The failsafe remains... dormant. For now."