“What the hell happened?”he asks, eyebrows drawn low.
“She okay?”another player mutters.
“Why was Kael texting us at two in the morning?”
“Did someone try something?”
“Is she safe?”
“Do we need to handle something?”
Wren stops.
She stands straighter.
Shoulders back.
Chin lifted.
Finn tenses beside her.
Atlas looks ready to throw anyone who gets too close out a window.
I keep my voice steady.“Give her space.”
But before I can say more, Wren steps forward.
She faces the players directly, eyes steady.
“I’m fine,” she says.“Something happened, but I’m here, and I’m still doing my job.”
The room stills.
She swallows, chin tightening.“I’m not quitting.”
A ripple moves through the team.
Not just shock—respect.
Rowan nods slowly.“We’ve got your back.”
“Always,” another player adds.
Atlas shifts, barely, but enough that I can see the tension bleed from his shoulders.
I lean close to her.“You don’t have to talk to anyone else.”
“I want to,” she says.
I believe her.
***
Ops pulls us into theconference room.
Santos, Leung, and three security personnel sit waiting.Papers.Screens.Tense faces.
They expect fear.
