Alexander leaned against the gnarled trunk of one of the smaller living trees that formed a natural alcove at the edge of the vilge. The space was perfect—secluded enough for privacy but still within sight of the main pathways. He'd chosen it carefully after walking the area three times this morning.

  "They're coming," Elijah said, gncing toward the rope bridge that connected this ptform to the main vilge center.

  Alexander nodded, his jaw tight. He'd spent half the night reviewing everything Lyra and his brother had shown him. The evidence was overwhelming, but he still needed to hear it from Valeria herself.

  Lyra appeared first, her dark hair pulled back in its usual practical style, a small device clutched in her hand. Her amber eyes met Alexander's briefly, and he saw the hesitation there—the lingering caution of someone who'd spent her life avoiding confrontations with those in power.

  "You're sure it works?" he asked her.

  She nodded. "It'll pick up any outgoing signals. If she tries to send anything during our talk, we'll know."

  Alexander gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. "Good."

  Riva followed a moment ter, taking position at the entrance to the alcove without being asked. She'd been the most loyal teammate since the beginning—no hidden agendas, no secret reports.

  "She just finished breakfast," Riva reported. "On her way now."

  When Valeria finally appeared, she was halfway across the bridge before she seemed to notice who was waiting. Her steps faltered for just a moment, but she recovered quickly, maintaining her usual confident stride.

  "Team meeting?" she asked, her tone casual as she entered the alcove. "I didn't get a notification."

  Alexander waited until Riva had taken position blocking the exit before he spoke. "We need to talk about your communications, Valeria."

  Her expression didn't change, but Alexander caught the slight shift in her stance—weight moving to the balls of her feet, ready for anything.

  "What about them?" she asked.

  Alexander nodded to Lyra, who held up her device. The small screen dispyed a series of fragmented code sequences.

  _*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">"These are unauthorized transmissions sent from your interface," Lyra said, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders. "Daily reports using an encrypted corporate channel."

  "That's standard protocol," Valeria said, crossing her arms. "Every team maintains contact with their corporate sponsors. You know this, Alexander."

  "We agreed to weekly status updates through the official channels," Alexander replied, keeping his voice even. "Not daily detailed reports on every member of this team."

  "I don't know what you think you've found, but you're overreacting," Valeria said, her gaze darting between them. "The corporate structure requires—"

  "Stop," Alexander cut her off. "Lyra, show her."

  Lyra tapped the device, and Valeria's voice filled the small space: "Subject E continues to dispy anomalous sensory awareness. Somehow receives advance information. Requires further observation. Subject U demonstrates technical capabilities well beyond Unaligned education parameters. Interface modifications suggest possible corporate origins despite cimed background—"

  Valeria lunged for the device, but Lyra stepped back quickly, tucking it away.

  "That's private corporate communication!" Valeria snapped. "You had no right to intercept it!"

  "And you had no right to spy on us," Elijah said quietly. His usual gentle tone had hardened. "You've been cataloging everything about us like we're b specimens."

  Alexander watched the calcution happening behind Valeria's eyes—weighing options, considering what they knew versus what she could still deny.

  "Fine," she finally said, straightening her shoulders. "Yes, I report directly to Marcus Voss. I've been assigned to monitor this team since formation, with special attention to performance metrics and anomalies. It's standard procedure for high-value assets."

  "We're people, not assets," Elijah said.

  Valeria gave him a look that bordered on pity. "In the Game, everything is an asset. Your father understands that better than anyone, Alexander."

  "What exactly have you been reporting?" Alexander asked, keeping his voice steady despite the anger building in his chest.

  "Everything noteworthy." Valeria's tone became clinical, professional. "Elijah's mysterious perceptions and how they provide tactical advantages. Lyra's technical abilities that far exceed what should be possible for someone with her background. Your leadership decisions, especially those that diverge from recommended corporate strategies."

  She turned to look directly at Lyra. "Do you really expect us to believe you learned advanced interface modification in some Unaligned junkyard? The work you did on our tracking systems uses principles that aren't even taught at Servicer-level technical academies."

  Lyra's expression remained neutral, but Alexander caught the slight tightening of her grip on the device—a tell he'd learned to recognize when she felt cornered.

  "My technical skills aren't the issue here," Lyra said evenly. "Your betrayal is."

  "It's not betrayal to fulfill my assigned function," Valeria countered. "Alexander, be reasonable. Your father invested significant resources in this team. He has every right to monitor his investment, especially when it includes his sons."

  Alexander felt a cold crity settling over him. "So that's all we are to him? An investment?"

  "Don't be naive," Valeria said. "Everything is an investment at our level. Your father built his empire by understanding the value of information. These reports help him protect you."

  "Protect us?" Elijah's ugh held no humor. "By cataloging every unusual thing we do so it can be studied and exploited?"

  Valeria's expression hardened. "You've been sheltered your entire lives. You have no idea what's really happening in the Game, or why your abilities matter so much." She turned back to Alexander. "Your father's test directive was clear. The Unaligned girl is an unknown variable with suspicious capabilities. Removing her from the team is the safest course of action."

  Alexander felt three pairs of eyes turn to him—Elijah's concerned, Lyra's carefully guarded, and Valeria's expectant.

  "My father's directive," Alexander repeated slowly, tasting the words and finding them suddenly bitter. All his life, he'd followed those directives without question. The perfect son, the promising heir, always meeting expectations.

  "He only wants what's best for the team," Valeria pressed. "For you."

  Alexander looked at Lyra, remembering how she'd modified their interfaces to enhance performance beyond standard specifications. At Elijah, whose mysterious whispers had warned them of dangers no one else could detect. At Riva, standing guard with unwavering loyalty.

  Then back at Valeria, with her clinical reports and corporate justifications.

  "If my father wanted what was best for this team," Alexander said finally, "he would trust my judgment as team leader. The same judgment he spent years training."

  "Alexander—"

  "No." His voice was quiet but firm. "This isn't about corporate protocols or investments. This is about trust. And right now, I don't trust you, Valeria."

  She stared at him, genuine surprise flickering across her face. "You can't be serious. You're choosing them over your father's explicit instructions?"

  The question hung in the air between them, the weight of eighteen years of dutiful obedience behind it. Alexander felt something shifting inside him—a realignment of priorities that should have felt frightening but instead felt strangely like relief.

  "I'm not choosing anyone over anyone else," he said carefully. "I'm making the tactical decision that best serves this team's survival and advancement."

  It wasn't the whole truth, but it was the expnation she would understand. The expnation that would get back to his father in the next report—assuming he allowed there to be another report.

  Valeria's eyes narrowed. "This is a mistake."

  "Maybe," Alexander acknowledged. "But it's my mistake to make."

  He straightened up from the tree he'd been leaning against, his full height emphasized by the movement. "We'll discuss your role on this team going forward. Until then, you're relieved of all security clearance and strategic pnning duties."

  "You can't—"

  "I can, and I have," Alexander cut her off. "This conversation is over."

  Valeria looked at each of them in turn, her expression hardening into something cold and professional. "You're making a serious error in judgment. All of you." She turned and walked away, brushing past Riva, who made no move to stop her.

  As her footsteps receded across the wooden bridge, the tension in the alcove remained. Nobody spoke for several long moments.

  "What are you going to do?" Elijah finally asked.

  Alexander stared at the space where Valeria had stood, the weight of his decision settling across his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he'd directly countermanded his father's wishes. The implications of that choice stretched out before him like an uncharted path through dangerous territory.

  "I don't know yet," he admitted. "But whatever happens next, we face it together. As a team."

  He looked at Lyra, whose expression remained carefully neutral, though there was a new wariness in her eyes. "All of us."

  The message in his words was clear. Whatever Valeria had been reporting about Lyra's suspicious capabilities, whatever his father's concerns about her background, Alexander had made his choice. He'd chosen the team they'd built over the corporate structure he'd been raised to inherit.

  Now he just had to figure out what that choice would cost them.