The door to the suite banged open. Beatrice wasn’t on guard; she had passed out in the library hours ago.
Sebastian Cross walked in, bringing the scent of cold rain and expensive cologne with him. Victoria jumped up from her chair, blocking his path to the bed.
“You can’t be in here,” she said firmly. “He’s resting.”
“I’m just paying my respects to the Chairman,” Cross smiled, stepping around her with fluid grace. He walked to the side of the bed and looked down at Alistair.
Alistair lay perfectly still. He focused on a crack in the ceiling plaster. *Do not move. Do not react.*
“Tragic,” Cross murmured. “To see a Titan reduced to… furniture.”
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I know you can hear me, Alistair. I know you’re in there. And I know you’re guilty.”
Suddenly, Cross pulled a medical penlight from his pocket and flashed it directly into Alistair’s eyes.
The light was blinding. Alistair’s instinct screamed at him to flinch, to turn away. But he remembered the code. He remembered the shave. He remembered the alliance. He forced his eyes to remain glassy and vacant, staring straight through the light as if his brain were truly dead.
Cross held the light there for an agonizing ten seconds, then clicked it off. He straightened his tie, looking disappointed.
“Nothing,” Cross muttered. “Pity.”
He turned and walked out. Alistair let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his heart hammering against his paralyzed ribs. He had passed the test.