Page 49

The subtle asymmetry the game’s graphics never quite captured. His left eye sits a millimeter higher than his right, leaving him perpetually caught mid-thought.

My throat clicks when I swallow, and I turn to Kain. “Take a picture.”

When he doesn’t move fast enough, I shove my phone into his hands.

“Take a picture,” I repeat, going to stand by the glass case.

I position myself in front and to the left, shoulder to the glass, angled toward the model.

Kain has to take several steps back to get all of it into the frame. The camera shutter clicks.

I cross to him and snatch the phone back. The image fills the screen with me slightly off-center, the model cut off at the shoulders, the lighting washing out the detail in the cloak.

“No.” I thrust the phone back at him. “Again. Get lower. And move left. Try not to let the lights glare off the glass.”

Kain takes the phone without comment and drops to one knee as I hurry back into position. He angles the camera.

Click.

I check it. The Sentinel fills the frame now, his entire form captured, the worn base visible. I’m in the left third of the frame, dwarfed by the statue, my excitement impossible to miss.

I bounce on my toes. “Get me a twenty-four by thirty-two digital frame. I want to display this in my office.”

Kain gets back to his feet. “You don’t have the wall space in your office.”

I glare at him. “Then move something. I want it.”

“Okay.” He brings out his own phone and types out a note.

I return to the picture and zoom in on the Sentinel.

Julian oversees this entire exchange from his post by the hallway wall, his arms folded and one hip cocked. He radiates the particular amusement of a creator watching someone fall in love with his work right in front of him.

“Are we done documenting the historical artifact?” he asks, pushing off the wall. “Because I have a project meeting in five minutes that your roommate is required to attend.”

I slide the phone into my pocket. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Julian claps his hands together once. “Logistics, then.”

He turns to me. “Reef, there’s a waiting area across the hall with archive access. Old builds, design documents, original audio files…everything we’ve digitized so far. You’re welcome to camp out there while Kain and I handle business.”

He gestures toward a doorway visible from where we stand.

Through the glass wall, a deep purple couch with a squat profile sits beside a side table, a charging cable coiled on top. Three-ring binders and boxed game builds still in shrink wrap line the shelves.

A monitor sits on a desk beside the couch, its screen displaying the archive interface I recognize from Kain’s basement.

Objectively, this is everything I could want for the next two hours.

Fifteen years of Dusk Protocol history, waiting for me on a couch, with a charging cable.

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

Julian gives a quiet huff of amusement. “I figured you’d say that.”

He turns to Kain. “The conference room is next door.”

“Be right there.”