"He's adapting well," Kane observes.
"He's good at adapting. Had to learn young." I watch my son play with the massive dog. "But he shouldn't have to."
"No. He shouldn't."
We stand in silence for a moment, watching Lucas and Khalid. Then Kane excuses himself to handle something in operations, leaving me alone in the corridor.
I should go back to Lucas. Should check on him, make sure he's really okay and not just putting on a brave face. But my feet carry me in the opposite direction, back toward the area Kane showed me earlier.
The armory.
I'm not sure why I'm drawn there. Maybe because weapons mean protection and protection means Lucas stays safe. Maybe because seeing the tools Colton uses to keep us alive makes this all feel more real.
The door is slightly ajar. I push it open and step inside.
Weapons line the walls in organized rows. Rifles, pistols, tactical gear. Everything secured but accessible. Everything maintained with the kind of care that speaks of people who trust their lives to these tools.
"Looking for something specific?"
I turn to find Colton standing near a workbench, cleaning a disassembled pistol. He's changed clothes since last night. Fresh tactical pants and a black t-shirt that shows the outline of muscle and the edge of a holster.
"Couldn't sleep?" I ask instead of answering his question.
"Tried. Didn't work." He sets down the cleaning cloth and really looks at me. "Kane give you the tour?"
"Yeah. This place is... impressive."
"It's necessary." Colton moves around the workbench, closing the distance between us. "You doing okay? Really okay, not just putting on a brave face?"
"I don't know yet." Honesty feels easier than lying. "Ask me again in a few days when the panic subsides and I can think clearly."
"Fair enough."
We stand in silence. Not awkward, exactly, but charged with awareness I'm trying very hard to ignore. He's too close. Smells like gun oil and something clean and masculine. Familiar in ways that make my chest ache.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For bringing us here. For protecting Lucas. For all of it."
"You already thanked me. In the truck yesterday."
"I'm thanking you again." I meet his eyes. "You didn't have to do this. Could have handed us off to someone else. But you didn't."
"I told you last night. I failed you once. I'm not doing it again." His voice drops. "And Kane was right. I care too much to walk away."
"Kane told you that you care too much?"
"Kane told me to make sure caring doesn't make me stupid." A smile ghosts across his face. "But yeah. I care too much. Always have, even when I pretended I didn't."
My breath catches. We're standing too close. Heat radiates from his body, and I'm acutely aware of every inch of space between us. Or lack of space. The air feels charged, electric, like the moment before lightning strikes. His chest rises and falls, breathing just slightly faster than normal, and I wonder if he feels this too. This pull. This ache that starts low in my belly and spreads through my limbs. If I just leaned forward slightly, if I tilted my face up just a fraction more?—
"Stryker, you in here? Kane needs... oh."
Tommy stands in the doorway, tablet in hand, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows.
"Kane needs what?" Colton doesn't move, doesn't step back, but his voice shifts into professional mode.
"Meeting soon. Committee chatter analysis from overnight." Tommy's eyes flick between us. "But I can tell him you're busy if..."
"We're not busy." I step back, putting space between myself and Colton. "I should check on Lucas anyway."
