Trigger looked ready to start a war.
Even Rook’s face darkened in a way that made the surrounding operators subtly straighten.
“Shepherd’s escalating,” Rook said coldly.
“No,” Hersh corrected quietly.
Everyone looked at him.
His eyes never left the photograph.
“He’s unraveling.”
A chill slid down my spine.
Because Hersh sounded certain.
Like he understood Shepherd in ways the rest of us didn’t.
Wolf folded his arms. “You think this is personal now?”
Hersh gave him a look.
“Brother, this was personal long before tonight.”
Silence.
Thunder rolled overhead again.
I slowly looked up at Hersh.
Rain dripped from his dark hair across the scar beside his eye.
Blood still stained his shirt beneath the medic’s bandages.
And yet somehow?—
the scariest thing about him right now was how calm he looked.
Not emotionally calm.
Worse.
Focused.
Deadly.
Like something inside him had fully locked into place.
“He kept the first photo for ten years,” Hersh said quietly. “He carried it through missions. Through safehouses. Through kill sites. He went into the cabin while she slept and took this photo.”
My stomach twisted harder.
“He watched her from a distance because he knew exactly what she was.”
I barely managed to whisper, “What am I?”
His eyes finally lifted to mine then.
