Orbital Station "Leviathan," Titan Orbit

  Leonard sat behind his massive desk, the air humming faintly with projections: tactical layouts, resource flow charts, updated reports from Pluto’s orbit. Everything ticked like clockwork. Everything followed his design.

  Cross stood across from him, her face flawlessly calm, but her eyes danced with fire. She absorbed every word from Graves like a finely tuned instrument, primed to act.

  “It’s done,” her voice cut clear, perfectly neutral. “Three dead. One missing. Harrison and Vasilevich… listed as deceased.”

  Graves lifted his gaze to her slowly.

  “Officially?”

  Livia held her breath for a beat, as if savoring the question, then tilted her head slightly.

  “If they’re alive, they’re out of play,” she said evenly, almost detached. “No threat.”

  Leonard paused briefly but didn’t dig deeper. Details didn’t matter to him. If Livia deemed Harrison and her crew irrelevant, then they were.

  “Braun?”

  “Prepping for the flight. He’s accepted the terms, even if he doesn’t fully grasp them yet,” Livia leaned forward just a fraction, a subtle thrill flickering within at how seamlessly their scheme aligned. “He’ll be our tool inside the expedition—its face, its scientific clout. With him, it all gains the legitimacy we need.”

  Graves gave a faint nod, taking it in.

  “Good. But he stays under control. Any wavering…”

  “I’ll handle it,” Livia’s tone remained flat, but her eyes sparked with anticipation.

  She executed his will, and it fed her a pleasure beyond words. Every step, every move—precise, calculated, strategically flawless. She wasn’t just a tool—she was the best tool.

  Graves shifted his gaze to the holographic wormhole model hovering in the air.

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  “The real work starts soon. We’re on the cusp of a new era.”

  “And we’ll be the first to greet it,” Livia dipped her head, as if paying homage to his words.

  Leonard Graves sat motionless in his chair, carved from granite. His silence wasn’t waiting—it was control. His mind wove through numbers, names, threats, crafting patterns yet to exist but soon to solidify.

  Livia stood before him, taut as a bowstring, perfectly tuned to resonate only at his command. Outwardly impeccable, inwardly ablaze with a fire she couldn’t release. Being here, before Him, chosen to enact his will—it wasn’t just privilege; it was purpose. Each word of his echoed in her chest—sweet, primal, sinking under her skin. It synced with her breath, her rhythm, her core.

  “There’s more,” her voice held steady, though it trembled inside, rippling through every nerve. “The Onyx Cartel. They’re sniffing around the expedition. How, we don’t know yet.”

  Leonard raised his eyes slowly.

  “Predictable,” he said coolly.

  God. That tone. Icy, assured, almost casual. He wasn’t surprised—of course not. He always saw it coming. He didn’t fear the unknown because, to him, there was no unknown. In his world, no randomness existed—just processes awaiting their logical end.

  “The question is what they’re planning,” she continued, proud of her unshakable delivery. “They’re too quiet. No direct trails, no obvious entry points. They’re not buying ship slots or slipping people in through tech crews.”

  Graves said nothing. Then tapped his fingers on the desk, slow and deliberate.

  “Then they either have someone already, or they’re cooking something unconventional,” his eyes narrowed slightly—not from worry, but intrigue. He didn’t see a threat; he saw a puzzle.

  Livia felt his silence seep into her, charged like the air before a storm.

  “It’ll take time,” she breathed, fighting to keep her voice from quaking.

  “Find them,” Graves’ voice was a rustle of steel—dark, deep, devoid of feeling.

  Livia closed her eyes for one brief moment, letting those words flow through her, warming her veins with a sweet, electric shiver. A command. Her command.

  She nodded slowly.

  “I’ll handle it.”

  Graves dismissed the hologram with a flick of his hand.

  “No unexpected variables,” he remarked.

  But he knew they were inevitable. Always some chaos, hidden players, rival ambitions slipping through cracks. Yet Leonard Graves never let chaos roam free. He knew how to channel it all.

  He studied Livia, appraising her.

  “Everything can be guided where it belongs.”

  Her fingers tightened, a quiet, flawless resolve igniting within. No hesitation, no doubt—just the thrill of new tasks, new victories, a new triumph extending his will.

  “No one will interfere,” her voice softened, almost reverent.