Because it’s true.
Because he knows it.
Because I know it.
I exhale slowly.
Force the tension down.
Lock it back where it belongs.
“She’s one of ours,” I say.
That part’s true.
Safe.
Simple.
Clear.
Russ nods once.
“Yeah,” he says. “She is.”
But he doesn’t look convinced.
Not entirely.
“You keep it that way,” he adds. “You bring her back. That’s the job.”
“I know the job.”
“Then do it.”
Another beat.
Then—
“Not because you didn’t finish a conversation,” he says quietly.
That—
That hits harder than anything else.
Because he’s not wrong.
Because that’s exactly what this is.
I look away first.
Grab the rest of my gear.
Secure it.
Check it.
Focus.
