Douglas waited until his breathing had gone from ragged to even before speaking. His voice was quiet, but every word was clear. "I admit to the problems you mentioned. There were indeed lapses in the dock ambush, the traces left by those who abandoned their posts were not cleaned up properly, and the searchlight timing was off. I admit all of that."
He paused. Morgan stood before the desk, the rise and fall of his chest gradually slowing from its earlier violence, though his hands were still trembling slightly.
Morgan braced both hands against the edge of the desk and leaned forward. When he forced his voice through clenched teeth, it carried the weight of emotion compressed to its limit and beginning to spill over. "So... you already knew about London's decision, didn't you?"
Douglas did not deny it.
"They're using me as a bargaining chip." Morgan's voice rose slightly, trembling at the end as though he were struggling to contain something overflowing inside him. "The infiltration plan was approved by the director's office. The operational direction was set according to their demands. Every decision made on site is on record. Now the opposition has photos of last night's Dark Mark and is pressuring them from every side. They need an explanation. They need someone to take the blame—and they're putting all the pressure on me."
He lifted one hand from the desk, gestured in the air, then dropped it heavily back down. His palm struck the tabletop with a short, muffled thud. "No one on the squad knows the truth. All they see is an undercover operation that failed, went badly, and made the entire squad lose face. Once that label sticks, I'm finished! Even if I go back now, my file will forever carry the line: 'Lead operative