Opportunities.
The operator’s team fans out carefully near the loading dock entrance while maintaining fire suppression outside.
Professional as hell.
Private military.
Black ops.
Ghost unit.
Something off-books.
And somehow they knew Hannah would be here before we did.
That thought settles ugly in my chest.
“Hannah,” I say quietly without taking my eyes off him, “did anyone from that training course ever contact you afterward?”
“No.”
The operator answers before she can.
“She wasn’t supposed to know she was under evaluation.”
Evaluation.
Jesus Christ.
Hannah’s expression hardens instantly.
“You experimented on us?”
“No.”
The operator’s tone stays perfectly calm.
“We identified survivability markers.”
“That’s just a prettier way of saying the same thing.”
Damn right it is.
The operator studies her silently for a second.
Then says quietly—
“You scored higher than anyone we’d ever tested.”
The words hit Hannah hard.
I see it immediately.
Because this suddenly reframes everything:
the training,
the deployment,
