Sentinel BioTech HQ, Friday – 7:45 AM
The first meeting of the day wasn't with investors, engineers, or military brass. It was with a group of men and women who wore muddy boots, sunhats, and carried laser range finders instead of briefcases.
The land surveyors had arrived.
Angel had already escorted them to the Situation Room—what the team had started calling the west wing conference hall ever since it began hosting daily strategy briefings for the Aurora Line Initiative. There was no pretense anymore. The side project had grown teeth.
Matthew entered wearing an untucked collared shirt and rolled sleeves. No jacket. No tie. Just the right blend of authority and field-readiness. The surveyors rose briefly, clearly aware of who he was, though he waved them back into their seats.
