“That wasn’t a request.” Jonas crossed to the sideboard, poured water anyway, and shoved the glass into Elias’s hand. “You’re white as paper and your pupils are all over the place.”

Elias took the glass because his fingers needed the weight. Water sloshed over his skin. He swallowed, once, twice, and the room steadied enough to stay in one piece. “If you bring in a doctor now, this becomes a medical story. It is not a medical story.”

Dev leaned forward, elbows on knees. “That depends what happened.”

“What happened,” Elias said, “is why you’re all here.”

Jonas set a plate in front of him with bread, sliced fruit, and something hot in a bowl. The ordinary care of it cut worse than accusation. “Eat while you talk, then. I’m not having you collapse on my rug out of principle.”

Elias sat because his legs had started making decisions without consulting him. Steam rose from the bowl. He could not yet make himself touch it. Across from him, Amara had not moved at all.

“You ran it,” she said.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just exact.

Elias looked at her. There was no point wasting energy on denial. Elias said, “Yes.”

Liora let out a small breath through her nose, half disbelief, half anger. “Alone?”

Elias said, “Yes.”

Jonas closed his eyes for one second. “You idiot.” He rubbed his face, then looked to the others. “That’s not a joke. I mean it plainly.”

Amara’s gaze dropped to Elias’s hands, the dirt under the nails, the dried blood. “Where is the machine now?”

Elias said, “In the lower lab.”

Amara asked, “Active?”

Elias said, “I don’t know.”