Two inches of reinforced glass separates us, impenetrable to everything except sound. At present, the audio is a litany of complaints and shouted obscenities. While the window appears only as a mirror on the prisoner’s side, most can guess it’s more than just a looking glass. Zelda’s not ignorant of this fact, either. I’m just glad I’m standing on this side of the glass this time. “Either interrogate me or let me the hell out,” Zelda snaps, stopping to bang on the glass. “I know you’re back there, Forsyth. You or one of your hounds.” Lefevre stands guard beside me, sentinel to his own thoughts regarding his sister and the serious charges against her. At first, he objected to bringing me here—not on personal grounds as much as security concerns. But he hasn’t said a word since I overruled him with a direct order. In his defense, they were legitimate fears, but I’m well aware of the risks involved. Now that I’ve been given back a portion of command, I’m learning what it means to be a leader again.
