She follows Kane toward the conference room. Leaves me standing in the command center trying to figure out how to keep her alive when everything she needs to survive requires risking her death.
The electrical heat from the monitors presses against my back. The burned coffee smell turns my stomach.
Maya used to say I controlled everything because I was afraid of losing anyone else. She was eight when she said it. Didn't even know what she was calling out. But she was right.
Years later and I'm still doing it. Still controlling people because I think I can protect them. Still making decisions for them because I've already lost everyone I failed to protect.
Reagan's not Maya. She's not Lisa. She's a grown woman with her own agenda and her own methods and her own willingness to die for what she believes in.
But watching her walk away feels exactly like watching the video feed of the bombing that killed my wife and daughter. I force the memory down. Focus on the present. The briefing starts in two minutes.
The conference room carries the stale air of recycled ventilation and too many bodies in a small space. Kane sits at the head of the table. Stryker to his right, reviewing tactical displays. Mercer across from him with satellite imagery pulled up on his tablet. Reagan sits with her spine straight and her expression carefully blank. Khalid hunches in his corner with that book he's probably already finished twice.
Kane gets straight to it. "Status update. Sarah confirmed the Committee is using Reagan's investigation as a roadmap. Charlie, Ellen, the barista—they're part of a systematic sweep. The Committee breached Reagan's apartment hours ago. They're attempting to crack her cloud storage. Tommy estimates they'll succeed within days."
"What's in the cloud?" Stryker asks.
"Everything." Reagan's voice stays flat. "Six months of investigation. Every source, every document, every connection I found tracing Protocol Seven from Morrison's original operation to Webb's current network. It's encrypted but they'll break it. And when they do, everyone who helped me becomes a target."
Kane pulls up a list. Names scroll across the wall display. Too many names.
"Forty-seven individuals with direct contact. Another hundred-plus with indirect connections. Researchers, librarians, IT specialists, analysts. All of them potential targets."
"We can't protect that many people." Mercer doesn't look up from his tablet. "Too many targets across too many locations. Best we can do is warn high-value individuals and hope they disappear before Committee teams find them."
"These are civilians." Reagan leans forward. "Professors. Analysts. They don't know how to defend against professional killers."
"Then we prioritize." Kane highlights twelve names. "These have information critical to your case. They can testify about Webb's operations. They can verify evidence. We focus protective resources here. Federal marshals where we have contacts. Anonymous warnings for everyone else. Instructions to go to ground until this is over."
"And the hundred-plus who helped without knowing what I was investigating?" Reagan's hands clench on the table. "The people who pulled archived documents or gave me database access because I asked? They're exposed because they did their jobs."
"They're casualties of the Committee's response." Kane's tone stays level. "You asked questions about Webb's network. The Committee decided killing witnesses was easier than answering them. That's on Webb, not you."
"Doesn't feel that way when their names are on my source list."
"Guilt doesn't help them. Action does." Kane closes the list. "Tommy's scrubbing databases. Removing digital trails. Sarah's coordinating warnings through back channels. We save who we can. We accept that some casualties are inevitable."
Reagan stares at the blank display where the names were.
"Blackout protocols are in effect. No external communication. No database access. No research that creates digital signatures the Committee can track." Kane looks at Reagan. "You work with what you have. Once Tommy clears the threat, you expand the investigation."
"We can't go to trial with half the story."
"You help her build a preliminary case with existing evidence. Prove Webb's involvement. Document Protocol Seven's continuation after Morrison's death. Establish the connections you've already found." Kane stands. "That's the order. Dylan agrees."
He dismisses the briefing. Stryker heads to perimeter duty. Mercer gathers Reagan’s tactical displays. Khalid slips out first.
Reagan stays seated. Staring at the blank screen.
"I should have used better security." Her voice barely carries across the table. "Should have protected my sources instead of assuming my precautions were enough. Charlie, Ellen, that barista—they trusted me. Now they're dead because I wasn't careful enough."
"You used professional-grade encryption. Layered security. Everything a trained investigator would implement." The chair scrapes when I move to turn off the display. "The Committee broke it anyway because they have resources you don't."
"Then whose fault is it? Webb's? The Committee's? The system that lets generals continue Morrison's work and murder civilians?" Reagan finally looks at me. "I wanted to expose corruption. Instead I got people killed. That's on me."
"They made their own choices. They knew helping you was dangerous."
"Based on information I provided. Based on my assessment of the threat. Based on my promise that I'd protect their identities." Reagan stands. "I failed them. Now forty-seven morepeople are at risk because I couldn't keep my investigation secure."
