The training room was empty. The mats were cold. The lights were dim. The air smelled of rubber and sweat. Dante stood in the center. He was hitting the heavy bag. Left. Right. Hook. Uppercut. The sound was rhythmic. Thud. Thud. Thud. He did not stop when Sophie entered. He knew she was there. He could feel her presence.
"Dante," she said.
He did not stop. He landed a final kick. The bag swung wildly. He turned to face her. He was breathing steadily. He was not sweating. "I am busy," he said.
"So am I."
Sophie walked toward him. She held a tablet in her hand. Her expression was hard. "I am done being managed," she said.
Dante wiped his hands on a towel. He threw it on the bench. "Managed," he repeated.
"Kept out of the loop. Protected from data. Treated like a civilian." She stopped in front of him. She held up the tablet. "I have been conducting my own investigation. While you were writing in your notebook. While you were sleeping."
