Mallory sat at the head of their makeshift war table, running her fingers along the edges of the map.
"Greg, Harper, Quinn, Ryder," she said, tapping various points on the map. "We need to go deeper into the city. It's time we find out who—or what—is controlling the Shadows."
"Is that wise?" Greg asked, folding his arms. "We're already spread thin. If we lose anyone—"
"We won't," Mallory interrupted firmly. "We've been reacting to everything so far, and it's time to act. Besides," she added, smirking, "I'm not planning on losing. Are you?"
Greg gave a reluctant nod.
Alex leaned back in his chair, balancing precariously on two legs. "So, what's my job in this grand suicide mission? Comic relief? Handsome distraction?"
Mallory shot him a look. "You're staying here to reinforce the factory. Someone has to keep Blinky in check and coordinate from base."
