Chapter 96 Davon

• DAVON
• The polished surface of the table shines under the office chandelier, but there is nothing warm in the room. Maps and papers lie scattered like pieces of a broken puzzle, each one reminding me of last night’s ambush. My jaw tightens as I lean forward, palms flat on the wood. The air feels thick; the men around me shift under my stare.
• “Explain to me,” I say, my voice cutting straight through the hush, “how we were made to look like fools?”