I brace for the explosion.
But instead he says, "You did the right thing."
I blink. "What?"
"The investigation, the intel gathering—that was the smart play. The strategic play." He pauses. "But leaving that little girl? That would've been wrong. And I'm not raising my daughter to be with a man who can do wrong and call it strategy."
The words land heavy.
"I thought you were pissed."
"I am. You went rogue, compromised our position, alerted the network." He claps a hand on my shoulder. "But you saved a child. And that matters more than what we needed. So yeah, I'mpissed, and proud your father raised you to be a good man. Both at once."
"What now?" Hakon asks. "They know someone's onto them."
"Now we move faster," Fenrir says. "They'll try to move the Thursday shipment earlier, or cancel it altogether. We need to get ahead of them."
"Emergencykirkja?" Ulf suggests.
"Tomorrow morning. We brief everyone, accelerate the timeline." Fenrir looks at me. "They know someone's onto them now. They'll either move the Thursday shipment up or scatter completely. We need to act fast."
"What about tonight?" Hakon asks. "Those three are still out there."
"Not for long," I mutter.
Fenrir's eyes cut to me. "We're not starting a war in a parking lot with local cops involved. We got the girl. That's the priority."
He's right.
Logically, strategically, he's absolutely right.
But everything in me wants to follow those fuckers down and put bullets in the men who called a six-year-old child "merchandise."
"Get in the truck," Fenrir orders. "We're leaving before those cops decide to ask harder questions."
We pile in.
Fenrir pulls out of the lot, takes the back roads instead of the highway.
My phone buzzes.
Text from Ingrid:
Are you okay?
I type back:
Yeah. On my way back. Wait for me?
Her response comes immediately:
Always.
I stare at the word.
Always.
After everything—her running, her fear, her walls crumbling just hours ago.
