Fast.
Gone.
“I feel fine.”
“Yeah?” Lucas cut in over comms. “Because from here it looks like you’re favoring your left side.”
Clay rolled his shoulder once, testing the movement.
Another quick stab under the ribs.
Manageable.
“I’m good.”
Silence.
Then Miles snorted softly.
“Man, if I had a dollar for every time you said that—”
“Focus,” Clay said flatly.
The word came harder than he intended.
Miles’ grin faded just slightly.
The team fell quiet again after that. Professional. Efficient.
They moved through the next section of the compound in practiced formation.
Clear room.
Check corners.
Advance.
Everything exactly how it should be.
Except something about it felt…
Off.
Not the mission.
Him.
Clay tightened his jaw as they moved down another corridor lined with cracked concrete and hanging wires.
He ignored it.
Ignored the ache in his side.
Ignored the exhaustion sitting heavier in his bones lately.
Ignored the restless edge that hadn’t left him in weeks.
Because thinking about it wouldn’t change anything.
