"You're frustrated."
It wasn't a question.
Maya let out a quiet, breathy laugh, low and humorless. "That obvious?"
Astron set his cup down. "You tried to de-escalate, and they refused to listen."
Maya's gaze flickered toward him. He wasn't asking.
He already knew.
Of course, he knew.
"You let them do what they wanted instead," she murmured, her voice quiet, unreadable.
Astron didn't look away. "It was inevitable."
Inevitable.
Maya's fingers twitched.
There it was again—his distance.
That way he always spoke, as if he was watching everything from above, as if he wasn't a part of it but merely an observer.
"He didn't stop it either."
Her other self's voice curled at the edges of her thoughts, dark and laced with something close to satisfaction.
"You know that, right? He didn't stop it. Just like you couldn't."
Maya exhaled sharply. "You don't sound concerned."
Astron held her gaze, his violet eyes steady, unwavering.
