Dale said.“Give me a minute.”
Marsh’s grin crooked.The grin faded as he tapped the map again.“We’ll keep pressure on the drone thread, but my money’s on a separate grudge.One thing, though, when you are on watch, the hesitation at the fence is longer, like it is looking directly at you, and wants you to see it there.”
“So, it’s someone who thinks I’m good looking?”Dale said.“Could be anyone.”
“True,” Marsh said as he drained his coffee and threw the cup away as he moved to the door.“You are too damn good looking for your own good, said no one ever.”
Dale barked a laugh and shot his friend the finger.
“Tell your architect to give me a wish list for interior cams,” Marsh said.“We need to harden inside the fence.Better motion.”He paused, then added, offhand, “He definitely wants you in particular to see him, almost like he is daring you to know who he is.Like he’s sending you a sign or a message of some kind.”
The line snagged on a memory.Not an answer yet—just the edge of one.
Marsh clocked it.“You just went somewhere.”
“Maybe,” Dale said.He shook his head, trying to catch the frayed end.“It’s nothing yet.”
“Let me know if turns into something,” Marsh said then opened the door to leave.
Dale nodded.“I will.And Marsh—thanks.”
“For what?”
“For the retriever line,” Dale said dryly.“Haven’t been insulted so sweetly in a while.”
“Anytime,” Marsh said then he left.
Silence came back.Dale stared at the board.The little flash kept trying to resolve.Sending a sign, or a message.Someone who wanted to be seen.Not Kavaci.Slower, angrier, more personal.He put the pen down and reached for the speaker on the shelf instead.If he couldn’t think it loose, he’d sweat it loose.
He cued a playlist and let the first track hit.Bass rolled the room.He wrapped his hands, chalked the bar, and set for pulls.Five clean, then rest.He kept his eyes on the floor and let the count wash the static out of his head.
On the third set, the shape in his mind sharpened.Not last night.Before.Outside, under an open sky in another country.What was his mind trying to tell him.
He turned—half a second too slow because the music was up and his head was already down the rabbit hole of the thought—and something heavy came in from his blind side.
The world snapped white.A hot, bright edge of pain lit the back of his skull.Rubber floor.Metal smell.The music kept going without him.He had just enough space to think Ty.Oren.Don’t— before the dark rose up and took the rest.
****
Ty liked the officebecause the door shut and he could lock himself inside with just his designs and an engineer he loved more than life.Oren sat across from him with a coffee and the build packet spread between them—Ty’s sketches, Oren’s notes in neat block print.
“I’ve been thinking about what we are going to do once this build is finished,” Ty said.“Where are we going to live and how we are going to run the business, that sort of thing.”
Oren hummed.“I’ve been thinking that, too.I’m thinking this is as good a place to run the business from as any.We can travel when we need to or rely on the design and build teams we have working for us on remote jobs.”
Ty looked up from the plan to Oren’s face because that’s what he did now—checked, confirmed.The glue line at Oren’s brow held, the wrist wrap was snug.“You still feeling okay to work?No pain?”
“No pain,” Oren said.The corner of his mouth moved.“But I have to admit I love the fact that you worry about it.”
Ty smiled.“That’s never going to change.And imagine how Dale’s feeling about it.At least I am sitting here with you, and can see how you are doing for myself.It must be driving him crazy.”
Oren laughed, holding up his phone.“Yep, he’s messaged me about thirty times already this morning.”
The door opened without a knock.Bateman stepped in, taking the whole room in one pass—wrap, glue, posture, whiteboard.
“Status?”he asked Oren with a pointed look at his wrapped wrist.
“Functional,” Oren said lifting his hand and wiggling his fingers
