“I think regret’s the one thing you don’t let yourself feel. Not when it costs you control.”
Her throat tightened. She laughed, the sound brittle. “Maybe control’s the only thing that’s kept me alive.”
“Or your partner. If you trusted him,” he said.
She turned then, her gaze locking on his. “You think following Maddox makes me weak? That I just salute and obey?”
Blake’s jaw flexed. “I think Maddox knows how to pull your strings. He’s using that shiny promotion to make you dance his tune, and you’re pretending it’s duty.”
Her stomach clenched. “You don’t know what he’s asking me to do.”
“I know a bully when I see one.” His tone sharpened, cutting through the fog between them. “And I don’t like bullies. Never did.”
Vivian swallowed hard. The faint tremor in her hand betrayed her, so she set the cup down before he saw too much. “Yes, I know all about your history.”
Blake’s jaw flexed, the muscle ticking as he crossed his arms and leaned against the bulkhead.
“You still think if you can beat them, maybe you can fix what happened that day on the ice.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Don’t.”
She stepped closer, the low hum of the storm filling the silence between them. “You were a kid, Blake. You didn’t make your friend walk out there. Those boys did.”
“I said stop.”
“You think if you’d fought harder, yelled louder, you could’ve saved him,” she pressed, the words trembling with emotion she didn’t expect to feel. “You’ve been chasing every monster since, trying to even the score.”
He turned on her so fast she flinched. His face was tight, controlled, but his eyes—those eyes—burned with something raw. “You want to analyze me, Agent? Fine. You spend your whole career trying to prove you’re nothing like your father. That you’ll never choose wrong. That you’ll follow orders, even when it costs someone else everything.”
The words hit like a slap. Her throat constricted. “Don’t you dare?—”
“You’ll sing whatever the higher-ups want,” he said, voice rough now, no teasing left. “Because deep down, you think that’s how you erase what he did. Your father chose love over duty, and you’ve been trying to make up for it ever since.”
Her nails dug into her palms. “Love?” she bit out. “He walked out on his post. Disobeyed a direct order. Walked out on us. That’s not love. That’s betrayal.”
Blake’s laugh was harsh, hollow. “Then maybe betrayal’s not as black and white as you make it. I disobeyed a direct order that saved your life and got me written up. Or did you forget that?”
“And if you hadn’t broken protocol, we wouldn’t have gotten ourselves in that mess,” she said, voice rising despite herself. “Protocol is there for a reason. It would’ve saved my father from ruining my family. My father lost everything because of his so-called choice. You’re exactly like he was.”
His jaw tightened, eyes darkening. “I didn’t do it to play hero or to be some rebel or to break a rule to prove I could.”
Her breath caught. “Then why?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. The silence between them pulsed with everything they’d never said—and everything they shouldn’t feel.
Vivian turned away first, her chest tight. She hated how he could still shake her, how his voice could cut through years of carefully built armor.
“You think I’m letting Maddox use me,” she said, quieter now, forcing her tone steady. “That’s what this is really about.”
“I think you’re smarter than this,” he said, softer but no less dangerous. “And I think you hate that I might be right.”
Something twisted deep in her chest, something she’d spent years locking away. “You ever think maybe I pulled you from that op because I was trying to save your life?”
He went still. The muscles in his shoulders tensed like he was holding something back. “You didn’t save me. You ended the mission. We were so close to blowing Laurel Tide open, and then you followed your command chain and shut it down. You think they’ll promote you because you follow orders?” His laughwas rough, humorless. “They dangle that promotion over you because you’ll do what they can’t make me do.”
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. “You think I wanted to burn the op? You think I haven’t replayed every second of that night?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. The silence said he’d replayed it too.
