“Oh, I’m trained.” I lift my bat from where it rests against the chair. “In emotional terrorism.”
Knight closes his eyes like he’s praying for patience.
I hop onto his counter, boots kicking lightly. “Knight. Face it. You need me.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I literally don’t.”
“Youabsolutelydo.”
His voice goes low and dangerous. “Why?”
I soften—just barely.
Because this is my moment.
“Because you don’t finish,” I say quietly. “You drag these guys into the light, you give the evidence to the authorities… and then you walk away. But sometimes? The system breaks. And bad men walk back into the world.”
His throat bobs. He knows I’m right.
“And because…” My voice softens even more. “…you’re trying to protect people without letting anyone protectyou.”
Silence.
Knight’s not good with emotions. They scramble him. He prefers anger—it feels cleaner. He finally exhales and sits across from me. “What’s on the drive?”
“Footage of every op you’ve done in the last three months.”
His head snaps up.
“Plus,” I add cheerfully, “the weak points in your encryption, your blind surveillance angles, and a list of ways you could’ve gotten arrested.”
“You—assessed us.”
“I evaluated your deficiencies.”
“That’s worse.”
“And I also included a folder titled ‘Why Knight Needs Me.’ It’s color-coded and formatted. You’re welcome.”
He glares. “Delete it.”
“Not unless you accept my terms.”
He leans forward. “There are terms?”
“Oh yes.” I hold up one finger.
Term One:
“I go on missions. Not behind a screen. In the field.”
He opens his mouth to argue—I cut him off.
Term Two:
