The silence that followed had lasted a few seconds before Xavier broke it.

The general’s jaw tightened. He glanced to his left, then his right, scanning the place before saying his carefully chosen words.

"As a form of respect for the former general, I can make some compromises," Xavier said as if he were the one on the higher moral ground.

Pete watched Grayson’s subtle, satisfied expression. Grayson had gotten what he expected: not a promise, but an opening.

"Well then, have some of my people join the investigation," Grayson said. His tone remained conversational. "Lilianna was under our protection when she was taken. That makes this our responsibility as much as yours."

Xavier’s eyebrow raised half an inch; on someone less disciplined, might have been a full-blown scowl. Colonel Vane, who remained after Lt. Hawn escorted Catalina, also found Grayson’s demands absurd.

But when Pete thought about it, Grayson claimed partial ownership of the crisis, which gave him legal standing.

Since he also framed the joint investigation as a matter of duty rather than negotiation, which made refusal look like an incompetent decision.

He also reminded every single person in this tent that Lilianna Gringer, the missing woman, had vanished from a facility that the military was now responsible for investigating.

A reminder that whoever took her from that basement had done it under everyone’s nose. That was included under Xavier’s nose since Mecha Research Institute wasn’t really privately owned in the first place.

"We’ll share information," Grayson continued, as if he were simply ticking items off a grocery list. "We share updates. We share operational access. I’ll even shoulder the costs if necessary."

"And finally," Grayson paused for a second, then looked at Xavier directly and said, "No shady dealings."

Pete suppressed the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Only Grayson could negotiate against a currently in position General like this and speak casually about corruption in front of his face.

Xavier held Grayson’s gaze for a long moment. Then he exhaled through his nose—not quite a sigh, more the sound of a man conceding a chess piece he had expected to lose anyway.

"I can work with that."

Soon after he said that, Xavier turned to the third occupant of the negotiation, Geron. The one who had been sitting so still throughout the entire exchange that Pete had almost forgotten he was there.

"Any objections?" Xavier asked him.

Geron’s eyes were closed, pondering. But when he finally spoke, his voice carried the low rumble.

"Work your way. I have a different plan."

Xavier’s golden eyes narrowed. "Care to share?"

"Share?" Geron opened his eyes, and the look in them was somewhere between contempt and exhaustion. "Can you afford the price, General?"

The formality of the address was deliberate. As if reminding Xavier of his position before stirring someone’s pot.

Xavier, to his credit, didn’t flinch and even managed to decrease the arrogance in his tone when he said, "Name it."

Geron snorted and said, "You can say that so easily because you have the freedom to."

Xavier, a General of the Imperial Star, shouldn’t have much freedom, so to speak. But compared to Geron, who already risked a divorce and a missing daughter, he did seem to have a lot of freedom.

Then Geron stood slowly and said, "Either way, I promise I won’t get in your way. Just keep your promise."

Promise?

Pete’s mind kept on fixating on the word.

The only thing that could be considered a promise that Xavier had made tonight was to send Catalina home—escorted, under surveillance, but home nonetheless.

Was that what Geron meant? Just getting his wife off the grid?

Pete studied the older man’s expression and found nothing. But the phrasing—keep your promise—like that usually meant something big, like a favor.

Xavier clearly thought it too. Pete saw his confusion flicker in his eyes before covering it with a curt nod. But Pete could see the gears turning in his head, thinking of what Geron meant.

Xavier had already assigned his most trusted men, Lt. Hawn, to escort Catalina back to the Gringer estate. That part was really simple to do.

But Geron was hinting at more. Perhaps, an extension of that promise?

A longer leash, or perhaps a tighter one—on Catalina herself? To whom might Catalina lead them?

What could Xavier possibly gain from promising that to Geron?

Ugh, Pete said, pressing his temples. My head just keeps coming up with questions instead of answers.

In the end, Geron didn’t elaborate further. He just let the silence do the work.

Since there was nothing more, Xavier moved forward. He straightened, resuming his command posture—shoulders square, chin level.

"Since we can’t detain Mr. Maxwell at this point—"

Pete’s ear caught the subtle emphasis. It seemed to be a shade aimed at no one in particular, but Pete heard it clearly.

It was as if Xavier had turned to Grayson and said: Unlike some people, I don’t jump to arresting civilians without due process.

"—nor can I arrest Mr. Maxwell due to insufficient evidence," Xavier continued, each word uttered in a professional, neutral tone, "I’ve decided to assign Colonel Vane to guard you."

Colonel Riley Vane stepped forward. He was tall—nearly as tall as Grayson—with the kind of broad, squared-off build that suggested his body had been purpose-trained for combat.

His face betrayed nothing as he extended his hand towards Grayson. Grayson took it and made a brief but firm handshake as a courtesy.

"As a busy person," Xavier said, "with a company that has contributed significantly to our galaxy’s defense and commerce infrastructure, we can’t reasonably confine you to house arrest."

The compliment was so flatly delivered that it might as well have been read from a teleprompter.

"Therefore, Colonel Vane will guard you with a small number of his crew. Do you agree to that?"

Grayson didn’t so much as blink, as if he had already expected this outcome.

"I can work with that," he said.

Pete almost laughed.