That much is clear.
Miles runs a hand through his hair. “He said he was fine…”
I don’t look at him.
“He lied.”
Flat.
Truth.
“That’s what we do.”
Silence hits for a second.
Then—
“Hannah.”
Lucas.
Low.
I glance over.
“Don’t let him die,” he says.
Not a request.
Not really.
She nods once.
Then I look back at the table.
At Clay.
At Hannah.
She’s leaning in close now, eyes locked on Clay like she’s daring him to give up.
“Listen to me,” she says, low and fierce. “You don’t get to quit after dragging us all out of hell. That’s not how this works.”
Her hand tightens slightly.
“You fight.”
Something flickers across Clay’s face.
Faint.
But there.
“Good,” she murmurs. “There you are.”
“BP’s still dropping—”
“Then we adjust!” she snaps. “Get me another line—move!”
