Page 93 of Dozer

I sit straighter. "That's a real title?"

"It is now."

I almost smile. "Full authority to build out the department however you see fit. Staffing. Equipment. Procedures. Operational integration. Whatever you need."

"Budget?"

"Within reason."

"Define reason."

"No."

"Hunter."

"You can terrorize accounting after you sign."

Now I do smile.

"Higher risk than DOD," he continues. "Worse hours. Considerably less bureaucracy standing between you and actually doing the work that matters." His expression stays carefully neutral. "I'm not going to pretend I'm not hoping you say yes." Then his eyes flick toward Dozer's room. "But I need you to make the choice for yourself. Not for anyone else."

Something inside me softens. Because he knows. Of course he knows. Hunter notices far more than he admits. But, I imagine anyone around us in the last two days would be a fool not to notice.

I look toward Dozer's closed door. "I appreciate you saying that."

"I mean it."

"I know."

And I do. The distinction matters. I don't want to choose a job because I want a man. I don't want to wake up six months from now wondering whether I rebuilt my entire life around someone else before figuring out what I wanted for myself. Dozer would hate that too. Maybe that's one of the reasons I trust him. He has never once asked me to become smaller so he can feel bigger beside me.

I think about Ryan. About twenty-three-year-old me joining DOD while grief was still new. I wanted purpose. For nine years, the DOD gave me good work. Important work. I don't regret it. But the system also proved how easily it could decide I was expendable when a spreadsheet told it to. Then, the second my name became useful again, suddenly the door reopened.

I think about Elite and the team offered there. Ruby. Ghost. Hack. Hunter. People who understood that truth wasn't something you admired from a safe distance, but something you had to fight to protect.

"I want Spartan Elite."

Hunter doesn't react immediately. So I keep going. "Not because of Dozer."

"I know."

"I want that on the record anyway."

"Noted."

I inhale. "I've spent nine years doing careful, correct work inside a system that treated me as disposable the second budgets got tight. I want to build something that answers to the truth first and bureaucracy never." Something warm settles into my chest as I say it. Certainty. "I want the department you're offering. I want to build a forensic program that doesn't wait for somebody powerful to decide a victim is important enough to investigate. I want to be the person who makes sure nobody ever has to wait for a body to wash up on the news before somebody finally looks hard enough to find the truth in it."

Hunter smiles. "Then welcome to Spartan Elite."

I grin. "Officially?"

"Officially."

The happiness hits. "Thanks, Hunter. Thanks for believing in me."

Hunter stands. Before he leaves, his hand settles briefly on my shoulder. We’re family. No blood required.

A few minutes later, a nurse tells me Dozer is awake. I am out of that chair before she finishes the sentence.