"Clearly." Stryker sips his coffee. "Just don't let it compromise operations. Kane's already running calculations on whether this becomes a liability."
"It won't."
"Good." He claps my shoulder. "Because she's good for you. Haven't seen you this human since before Syria."
He moves back to the counter before I can respond. Leaves me standing with coffee and the weight of that observation.
Human. Like spending years as an interrogator stripped away something essential. Like operational efficiency required sacrificing the parts of myself that connected to other people.
Maybe it did.
Reagan catches my eye across the kitchen. Smiles slightly. The tightness in my throat eases just enough to breathe.
Kane clears his throat. "Now that everyone's caffeinated, we need to address the situation. Tommy sent updated analysis overnight. The Committee's cyber division is actively probing multiple locations."
"What kind of probing?" I move to the table. Reagan shifts to make room.
"Systematic search patterns." Kane pulls up a map showing digital traffic patterns. "They're checking Reagan's known travel history. Every city she visited, every hotel she stayed in, every location tied to her investigation. They're building a geographic profile."
"Looking for places I might find safe to hide," Reagan says quietly.
"Exactly. They know we'd need to secure you somewhere off their radar. They're checking locations within your established movement patterns." Kane highlights three areas on the map. "Montana. Wyoming. Northern Colorado. All places you traveled during your investigation."
"How long until they narrow it down?" I ask.
"Tommy estimates we have days at most. Maybe less if they bring more resources online." Kane closes the display. "This location stays secure for now. But we need contingency plans. Multiple options if we have to move fast."
Reagan's hand finds mine under the table. Squeezes once. I squeeze back, drawing strange comfort from the contact even as assessments flood my mind.
"What about Echo Base?" Stryker asks. "They haven't found that yet."
"Echo Base stays dark," Kane says firmly. "No movement in or out unless absolutely critical. Reagan doesn't know the location and we're keeping it that way."
"For operational security," I add when Reagan tenses beside me. "Not because we don't trust you. If the Committee captures you, they'll extract that information. Better you don't have it."
She nods slowly. Understanding the logic even if she doesn't like it.
Khalid speaks up from his corner. "What about the others? The people on Reagan's source list?"
"Sarah's coordinating warnings through back channels," Kane says. "Anonymous calls. Encrypted messages. Instructions to go to ground immediately. We'll save who we can."
"And the ones we can't save?" Reagan's voice stays level but her hand tightens on mine.
"Acceptable losses." Kane's tone is flat. Matter-of-fact. "We prioritize high-value targets. People who can testify. People with information critical to Delaney's case. Everyone else gets a warning and hope."
"Acceptable losses." Reagan repeats the words like they taste bitter. "Like Charlie. Like Ellen."
"Like anyone who gets close to a Committee operation." Kane doesn't soften his delivery. "This is war. People die in war. Our job is to make sure their deaths accomplish something."
The silence stretches. Stryker studies his coffee. Khalid's expression goes carefully blank. Reagan's hand stays locked on mine, grip tight enough to hurt.
I need to say something. Bridge the gap between Kane's necessity and Reagan's guilt over casualties she couldn't prevent. Find words that make this bearable.
But I spent years delivering Kane's same logic to operatives who questioned orders. Spent years making peace with acceptable losses because the alternative was paralysis. The words don't come because I'm not sure I believe them anymore.
Reagan stands abruptly. "I need air."
She leaves the kitchen before anyone can respond. Khalid watches her go, then looks at me with silent accusation.
