"How fast?"
Marcus looked at him. Then at Zain. The look that passed between them was one Seth had seen before, the silent negotiation of men who'd learned to trust each other's judgment even when they didn't trust each other's emotions.
"Three days," Marcus said. "Ghost, start planning. Jack, weapons and vehicles. Nate, medical supplies and safe transport for survivors. Elijah. "
"I know," Elijah said quietly. "Overwatch."
"And me?" Seth said.
"You know the operation from the inside," Marcus said. "You help plan. You help identify guards and layouts. But whether you're in the field, " he looked at Zain, "is between you and your handler."
The wordhandlersat in the air like a dare.
Seth looked at Zain. Zain looked at Seth. A conversation happened without words, the kind that only works between people who've been inside each other in every way that matters.
"He's in the field," Zain said. "With me."
"Always with you," Marcus agreed. And there was something in his voice, not amusement, not approval, but recognition. The recognition of a man watching two people choose each other in the middle of a war.
CHAPTER 25
They fought about it in the armory.
Not the clean, managed disagreement of professionals. A real fight, voices raised, old wounds open, an argument that only happens between people who matter enough to hurt.
"You're not going."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I'm your handler. "
"You're myboyfriend,Zain. Or whatever the hell we are. You don't get to use operational authority to keep me safe because you're scared."
The word hit like a slap.Scared.Zain's jaw locked. His hands, which had been organizing ammunition with practiced precision, went still.
"I'm not scared."
"You're terrified. You've been terrified since Levi. Since the gala. Since you realized I'm not going to sit in this safehouse and wait for you to come home."
"That's not…"
"It is. And I get it. I get why. But you can't protect me from the thing that already happened. I wasinthose cages, Zain. I know what's in those buildings better than anyone at this table. If you go in without me, people will die because you didn't have the information I have."
Zain's hands curled into fists at his sides. The armory was small, eight by ten, walls lined with weapons and tactical gear, the air sharp with gun oil. It was supposed to be a controlled space. A place of precision and order. Right now it felt like a cage of its own.
"I lost someone," Zain said. The words came out before he could stop them. "Before Lakefront. My partner. Rodriguez."
Seth went still.
"Not lost like, he didn't die. He betrayed me. But before that, before I knew what he was, we went into a house in Brightmoor. Suspected trafficking. Bad intel. There were eight men inside and two of us, and I watched Rodriguez take a bullet in the vest and go down, and for eleven seconds I thought he was dead."
The number was specific because Zain had counted. Had counted every second of believing the one person who had his back was gone, and those eleven seconds had carved themselves into him like initials in wet concrete.
"Eleven seconds," Zain said. "And in those eleven seconds, every part of me that was a functioning human being just... stopped. I was a weapon. I cleared that room on autopilot, four men down in under a minute, and I didn't feel any of it. Rodriguez got up, turned out the vest caught it clean, and he was fine. And I looked at him and thought,I can't do this again."
Seth's anger had drained. In its place was something quieter, what looked like understanding.
"That's why you keep people at arm's length," Seth said. Not a question.
