His expression hardens slightly.
“Jolie—”
“No,” I cut him off, lifting a hand to stop him. “You do not get to redirect this conversation.”
He stills, his attention sharpening.
“You want me to choose,” he says.
“I need you to,” I reply. “You either act with me now, or you step aside and let me handle it.”
His shoulders square slightly, and I can see the tension settle into him as he processes the demand.
“I am not acting without a plan,” he says.
“That is not what I asked,” I reply.
“It is the answer,” he says, more firmly.
My chest tightens, but I do not step back.
“Then you are not with me,” I say.
“I am with you,” he insists.
“No,” I shake my head slowly. “You are not, because if you were, you would not still be standing here trying to manage the fallout instead of stopping the cause.”
His jaw tightens, and his gaze hardens slightly as frustration edges into his expression.
“You are not accounting for what happens after,” he says.
“I am accounting for the fact that people are disappearing right now,” I counter.
“You push this wrong, and more will disappear,” he replies.
“And if I do nothing, it continues exactly as it is,” I say.
Silence stretches between us, heavy and immovable.
“You made your choice,” I say finally.
“So did you,” he replies.
“Yes,” I say. “I did, and I am not backing off it.”
The space between us feels colder now, the tension no longer charged but severed.
“You are on your own,” he says.
“I know,” I reply, and this time the words settle without hesitation.
I turn and walk away, and I do not slow or look back because I already know he will not follow.
By the time I reach the upper corridor, the system has shifted around me, the tension in the air sharper and more alert, and Ican feel the consequences of my actions settling into motion. A figure steps into the corridor ahead, and I stop immediately as recognition locks in.
Driscoll stands in front of me, his posture rigid, his gaze sharper than I have ever seen it, and the controlled composure he usually carries now feels like a mask stretched thin over something far more dangerous.
“Lieutenant,” he says.
