The footage paused.
Matt—kneeling. Shaking. The scalpel untouched.
Aaron—alive.
Bishop stared at the frozen image for seventeen full seconds.
No expression.
No sigh.
No disappointment.
He simply turned to Sienna.
"Well?" he asked.
She stood by the wall, arms folded, the faintest crease in her brow.
If Bishop noticed, he didn't say.
"He cracked," she said. "But didn't break."
Bishop nodded. "He hesitated."
Sienna said nothing.
That was enough.
He turned back to the monitor. Unpaused the feed. Watched Aaron lean forward, watched Matt tremble.
Fascinating.
"This is what happens when we leave ghosts intact," Bishop murmured. "Aaron is still a tether. That was the flaw."
He stepped away from the screen. Walked to the table where a red folder waited—unlabeled, heavy.
He opened it.
Inside: photos of Mia.
Matt's daughter. Recent. A schoolyard. A grocery store.
A woman beside her—not the mother. A foster parent.
Sienna watched him without blinking.
"You're going to use her."
Bishop closed the folder.
"No. That would be crude."
He turned to her, finally. Voice calm. Surgical.
"I'm going to give her back."
Sienna's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And when she sees what he's become?"
A pause.
Then a smile.
"Then he'll finish what he started."
Bishop walked past her toward the elevator.
"Prepare the delivery," he said. "The next piece is ready."
Sienna didn't move.
"Will it work?"
He stopped at the elevator door.
Looked back.
"It already is."