Standards.
Kids are sacred.
Always.
"Gunnar," Runes says, and my head snaps up. "You're good at intel gathering. Asking questions without raising flags. I want you on this."
Fuck.
"Yeah," I hear myself say. "Whatever you need."
"I want Ulf and Hakon with you. Start downtown, the usual spots. Listen more than you talk. See what people know. Report back in three days. We reconvene, compare notes, and then figure out our next steps."
More discussion follows—logistics, safety protocols, what to do if we stumble onto something bigger than expected.
I try to pay attention.
Try to think about the run I’m heading on instead of Ingrid.
But my mind keeps splitting.
Trafficking investigation.
Ingrid's silence.
Duty and desire pulling in opposite directions.
Finally, Runes adjourns the meeting.
Everyone filters out, conversations breaking into smaller groups.
I stand, ready to escape.
Ready to figure out what the hell I'm doing about Ingrid.
I head out to the hall and find Hakon and Ulf, let them know what we need to do, and as I turn to leave Hakon catches my arm.
"You good for this?" he asks quietly. "This run? You seem... distracted."
"I'm fine."
"Because if something's going on?—"
"I said I'm fine."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. "All right. We start tomorrow. Meet here at ten, hit downtown, see what we can find."
"Got it."
I head for the exit, pulling out my phone.
Still no response from Ingrid.
Still that delivered but unread message sitting there like an accusation.
Fuck waiting.
Fuck giving her space.
