"Confirmed deployment?" I ask, moving closer to the screen.
"Confirmed through multiple intelligence sources," Cross replies. "Reeve left his previous operation in Eastern Europe and is en route to your region. He'll be operating with significantly more caution than Kessler demonstrated, which means he won't engage until he's absolutely certain of your facility's location."
Kane's expression doesn't change, but I see the calculation happening behind his eyes. "Timeline?"
"Days, possibly longer. Reeve doesn't operate on predictable schedules." Cross's gaze shifts to me. "He's aware of Kessler's failure and the casualties your team inflicted. He won't underestimate you the way Kessler did."
The picture becomes clear and I don't like it. Reeve hunting us means extended surveillance, careful tracking of supply movements and digital signatures, methodical elimination of false leads until he pinpoints Echo Base's actual location. He'll take his time, stay patient, wait for the perfect moment to strike.
And Lucas remains his primary target.
"We need to change the equation," Kane says, voicing what I'm already thinking. "Make Lucas worthless as a target before Reeve gets close enough to act."
"How?" I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.
"Secure his testimony officially. Get it on record with federal contacts we trust, protected from Committee access." Kane pulls up files on the display. "If Lucas's testimony is already secured and documented, killing him becomes counterproductive. The Committee would be better served by damage control and spin than by creating additional murder charges that draw more federal attention."
The logic makes sense, but the reality of putting a young child through that process makes my stomach turn. Lucas has already survived so much. The rescue from the cartel compound where he was born. Witnessing a murder that should never have touched his young life. Then the nightmares. Adding the weight of official testimony and federal involvement feels like just one more thing to protect him from.
But keeping him alive matters more than keeping him innocent.
"Cross, can you facilitate federal contact?" Kane asks. "Someone with the authority to secure testimony and the discretion to keep it protected from Committee infiltration?"
"I have contacts in the federal system," Cross says. "A prosecutor I've vetted personally who has both the authority to secure testimony and the discretion to keep it protected from Committee infiltration. He's built his career on cases that require witness protection."
"Set it up," Kane orders. "Coordinate with Tommy on secure communication channels. We'll need this arranged quickly before Reeve gets close enough to complicate extraction."
Cross nods once and disconnects, her face disappearing from the screen with characteristic efficiency.
Kane turns to face me fully. "This is the right call. You know that."
"Doesn't make it easier," I admit. "Rachel's already been through enough. Lucas too. Now we're asking them to make this official, put it on record, relive everything."
"We're asking them to stay alive," Kane corrects. "Everything else is secondary to that objective."
He's right. Mission parameters, emotional costs, the trauma of testimony—none of it matters if Lucas ends up dead because we couldn't protect him from the Committee's next assassin.
"Get some rest," Kane says, already turning back to his displays. "We'll brief the team in the morning once Cross confirms the federal contact arrangement."
I leave his office with my ribs protesting every step, the compression wrapping tight enough to restrict movement but not tight enough to prevent the constant ache. Exhaustion pulls at me with physical weight, the adrenaline crash from the firefight finally catching up now that the immediate briefing is complete.
But sleep won't come until I see Rachel again, until I confirm she and Lucas are safe and the fragile connection we're building survived another day of violence.
The residential corridor is quiet when I reach it, most of the team either on watch rotations or getting what rest they can between operational demands. Rachel's quarters are near the end of the hall, her door standing slightly ajar with warm light spilling into the corridor.
I knock quietly before pushing the door open.
Rachel sits on her bunk with her back against the wall and her knees pulled to her chest, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. She looks up when I enter, her face shifting through surprise and relief before settling into something more complicated.
"Lucas asleep?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
"Finally. He was terrified after seeing you and Dylan come back bleeding." Her voice stays steady but I hear the tremor underneath. "Willa tried to distract him, but Lucas knew what was happening. Knew you were out there fighting people who want to hurt him."
“I’m sorry he had to see that.”
"Don't apologize for keeping us alive." She unfolds from her position and stands, crossing to where I'm standing just inside her doorway. "How bad are the ribs?"
"Cracked. Willa says I'm lucky the vest held."
