I shift my stance, adjusting my grip, preparing to step into whatever she’s already set in motion.
“Couldn’t just wait,” I add under my breath.
And then I move?—
Right toward her.
CHAPTER 33
JOLIE
The corridor outside Driscoll’s command sector smells different from the rest of the base.
It’s cleaner, sharper, like someone scrubbed the air itself until it forgot how to carry anything human, and the lighting shifts from utilitarian strips to something colder and brighter that reflects off the polished floor in a way that makes every movement feel exposed. Dadams walks half a step ahead of me, his shoulders tight, his breathing controlled but not steady, and I keep my grip firm on his arm, just enough pressure to remind him who’s setting the pace.
“You still have time to walk away from this,” he says quietly, not turning his head.
“No,” I reply, guiding him forward as we pass the last checkpoint. “I really don’t.”
“You think forcing this out into the open is going to fix anything?” he asks.
“I think it’s going to stop them from pretending it isn’t happening,” I counter, my voice low as I scan the corridor ahead. “That’s a start.”
I can feel the tension in his arm shift under my grip.
“You’re not wrong about what he’s done,” Dadams says. “You’re wrong about what happens next.”
“Yeah?” I murmur. “Then enlighten me.”
“You pull this thread,” he says, finally glancing at me, “and you don’t control what unravels.”
I meet his gaze without slowing.
“I’m not trying to control it,” I say. “I’m trying to expose it.”
“That’s the same thing,” he replies.
“No,” I shake my head slightly. “It’s not.”
The command doors come into view ahead, sealed and flanked by a pair of guards standing at rigid attention, their posture sharper than anything we passed on the way in. Their eyes track us immediately, attention locking onto Dadams first, then shifting to me, narrowing as they register the mismatch.
“Hold,” one of them says, stepping forward. “This sector is restricted.”
Dadams exhales slowly, his voice slipping into something practiced and official.
“Override authorization,” he says, lifting his chin just enough to sell it. “Inspector-level clearance. Immediate entry.”
The guard hesitates, his gaze flicking between us.
“She’s not cleared,” he says.
Dadams doesn’t miss a step.
“She’s with me,” he replies. “And if you want to challenge that, you can explain the delay directly to Driscoll.”
The name lands.
The guard shifts.
