Page 109 of Dose

The household has been told he is on restricted reconnaissance. Only Nikolai, Marcus, Dominic, Raphael, Isla and I know what answered him or why the window has to remain quiet.

Darius puts down a stack of plates. “Any update?”

“No change,” Nikolai says. “He remains inside the approved window.”

No one asks again.

Raphael sets aside a covered plate without comment.

Marcus gives the operational update. “Cascade persistence remains clean. Customer and pharmacy records support the Seattle plan. The intelligence gate is satisfied.”

“Entry is not scheduled,” Nikolai says. “Not until Ezra’s status is resolved and all assignments are reconfirmed.”

Damon nods. He does not argue that the team can absorb another absence. Lucien asks whether the delay changes the medication estimate. Raphael says forty-eight hours will not, but anything longer requires recalculation against current stock.

The conversation moves on because it has to.

Jenna steals a piece of roasted potato from Nikolai’s plate while looking directly at him.

“You could ask,” he says.

“You would give it to me.”

“Yes.”

“Then stealing it is more interesting.”

His hand settles possessively at the back of her neck. “Keep it.”

Across the table, Isla smiles. The expression is real, but her hand finds mine beneath the table and grips hard.

At seventeen thirty, Nikolai looks at us.

“My office after dinner.”

He closes the office door behind us.

“Ezra changed routes two hours ago,” he says.

Isla’s fingers tighten around mine. “Abort condition?”

“No. The new route is still public, and both trackers are live. Dominic believes Ezra identified surveillance unrelated to us and is clearing it.”

“How far is the recovery team?” I ask.

“Thirty-eight minutes. Marcus can redirect a closer asset if the tracker enters a fixed location.”

Too far to stop a bullet. Close enough to matter if Ezra sees the trap first.

Nikolai studies both of us. “Did he say anything after the morning check that he would not put in the operation log?”

“No,” I say.

Isla shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“Then we do not invent meaning for the route change.”

I hear the order beneath the sentence. Do not turn fear into intelligence.