Page 47 of Anchor
Claire’s fingers twitched at her side. “Stop.”
But Cameron pressed, voice tightening, “How many casualties?”
She closed her eyes for a second too long. “Twelve.”
A hush.
He didn’t stop. “Military?”
She shook her head.
“Civilians?”
Her silence was enough.
“How many children?”
She turned her back to them, staring at the image like she could will it into a different memory. “Four.” The word felt like shrapnel in her throat.
Cameron was quiet for a beat. “Why are you really showing us this?”
Her shoulders dropped. “To teach you what not to allow.”
“And what was it?” he asked, carefully now. “The name of the op.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because names carry a burden.”
He pushed again. “So does truth.”
Her hands gripped the edge of the podium like a lifeline. Her voice was low now, barely audible over the humming projector. “Operation Emberline.”
Silence.
No one typed.
Not even Cameron spoke.
She turned back to the room, a single movement, face unreadable. She saw the impact in their eyes. There wasrecognition, uncertainty, the sting of something too real to be theory. A few students looked toward the exit. Instinct, maybe.
Claire caught the motion at the door—subtle, practiced. A man in a gray sweatshirt, already halfway across the threshold. Not a student. Too still, too smooth. She recognized the neutrality—that was Reid’s design.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her mouth went dry. She’d said too much.Reid will know. Ian will know. Heather—God, my mother.
And by nightfall, maybe they would know too.
She turned back to the class, voice cool again, detached. Professional. “Let’s continue.”
But the load was already in the room. And it would follow her out.
CHASE ANN ARBOR – TRAINING ANNEX – 0825 HOURS
Reid stood in the annex, leaning over the schematic of the training wing when his secure line buzzed.
“Anchor, this is Bluebird. We’ve got a problem. Claire just went live with Emberline.In class, her class, with full disclosure and students listening. She showed imagery.”
