“You are aware that escalation along the border is a delicate matter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And yet you seem intent on testing that boundary.”
“With respect, sir, I’m preventing them from testing it first.”
A flicker of something passes through his eyes, gone almost as soon as it appears.
“You have a reputation, Lieutenant,” he says. “Difficult. Aggressive.”
I don’t respond.
He steps closer, just enough that I can see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the way his gaze sharpens as it locks onto mine.
“But also effective,” he continues. “Your sector reports fewer violations than any other stretch of this line.”
“Then I’d say the approach is working, sir.”
Silence stretches between us, the wind filling the gap with its constant, whispering hiss.
“Control your tone,” he says finally. “And your methods.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t need another incident report crossing my desk.”
“You won’t have one, sir.”
He studies me for another second, then gives a short nod.
“See that I don’t.”
He turns and walks away without another word, his presence receding as quickly as it arrived.
I exhale slowly, only then realizing how tight my chest had gotten.
“Difficult,” I mutter under my breath.
Better than dead.
I shift my stance and resume my patrol, eyes scanning the fence line again.
Routine. Pattern. Control.
Except something feels… off.
It takes me a few minutes to pinpoint it.
Then I see it.
Tury’s post.
Empty.
I slow my pace slightly, my gaze lingering longer than it should.
Maybe he’s late.
