Marcus reassembled the final piece of his weapon with a definitive click. "We need to be strategic." He slid the gun into its holster. "Calculated. One wrong move, and none of this matters."
"We don't have time for calculating." Michael's voice was low and firm. "Every day we wait, more names go on their list."
Tension rose between them. I sensed an eternal friction between Michael's instinct to charge forward and Marcus's cautious restraint. It was the dynamic that had shaped them as brothers. Now, it would determine how we confronted Project Asphodel.
I spoke quietly. "We need to decide tonight."
Michael sat across the table from me and broke the silence. All eyes turned to him.
"We hit them with everything: documentation, timeline, and personal accounts. All of the information in Evelyn's files." He moved to the center of the room, claiming the space with a commander's confidence.
"I'm talking simultaneous leaks—trusted journalists, whistleblower platforms, and academic allies." He sketched an invisible network in the air. "We overwhelm them with volume and visibility. Make it impossible to contain."
Marcus shifted forward in his chair. "That's a scorched earth approach."
"That's the only approach we have." Michael looked at me. "They've already shown what happens to people who try to negotiate."
I closed my laptop and stood, needing to feel solid ground beneath my feet. "I can write the main exposé," I offered. "Something that gives all this technical data human context. Ethical framing."
Miles's eyes narrowed. "You mean an academic paper? No offense, but I don't think peer review will cut it here. My patients who've survived trauma need validation, not analysis. This needs to hit people in the gut."
"Not a paper." I rubbed at the tension knotting the back of my neck. "A witness statement. Something that makes clear what's at stake."
"The court of public opinion is our best shot." Michael reached out a hand toward me. "Once this breaks, politicians will scramble to distance themselves. Military oversight committees will demand answers."
Marcus stood and crossed to the small kitchenette to pour a cup of coffee. "Unless they're complicit. We need to assume some level of government sanction."
Michael gestured, spreading his arms. "All the more reason to go wide."
As the brotherly dynamics played out, there was something new in Michael now, an edge that hadn't been there before Tahiti. He wasn't reckless. He was resolute.
Marcus poured the last of his coffee into his mug. "I think we need to consider a slower rollout. Limited disclosure to specific journalists. Build credibility before we go public."
Michael objected. "That gives them time to counter and to find us."
"It gives us time to build protection. Right now, we're exposed from every angle."
Miles, who'd remained uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "What about your department, Michael? Don't you have colleagues who could—"
"No." Michael's voice sliced through the room. "SWAT, IA, the brass—they've all abandoned ship. I'm radioactive."
Marcus whispered, "Because you killed a billionaire's son."
"Because I got in the way of something bigger than all of us." Michael's eyes flashed.
The tension between them crackled like static electricity. I recognized the argument for what it was—not only a tactical disagreement but a brother trying to protect his sibling from further harm.
Michael's voice softened. "The longer we wait, the more people die. We don't get another chance at this. This is it."
Marcus turned to me. "Alex, you're the academic here. What's the plan to give this story legitimacy without getting us killed?"
The weight of their collective attention settled on my shoulders. I'd spent years in lecture halls and faculty meetings, but my words never had such immediate consequences.
"We need multiple channels." I chose each word carefully. "If we target only one outlet, it's too easy to discredit or silence. We can't just dump everything online either—it'll get buried under conspiracy theory labels."
I moved to retrieve my laptop, opening it to display a document I'd started earlier. "I've used Evelyn's information to begin compiling a list of journalists with track records in tech ethics and government accountability. People whose reputation lends credibility."
"Names I know." Miles peered over my shoulder. "These are mainstream."