"You saved me," she says, gripping my hand as they work. "You didn't hesitate."
"Told you," I manage through gritted teeth. "Nothing bad happens to you on my watch."
"You stupid, noble bastard." She kisses me hard, not caring about the blood or the audience. "If you die on me, I'll kill you."
"Not dying." The drugs they're pushing make everything fuzzy, but I need her to know. "Tyler would be proud. Saved the girl."
"Yeah," Flint says from somewhere above me, his voice unusually gentle. "You saved the girl, brother. Mission accomplished."
Frost's hand grips my shoulder—brief, firm. Brotherhood distilled into a single gesture.
As consciousness fades, sirens wail in the distance—medical, fire, police. The chemicals are secured, Prometheus is finished, and Savannah is alive. The weight I've carried for years—Tyler's death, my hesitation, my failure—finally lifts.
This time, I was enough.
TWELVE
Savannah
The FBI debriefingroom smells like burnt coffee and bureaucracy, fluorescent lights harsh after three hours of questions.
Maria Santos sits across from me, recording device between us, going through every detail for the fifth time. Sawyer's in medical, getting his leg properly treated—the field dressing held through the fight, but he needs real surgery to repair the damage.
"Walk me through the code sequence again," Santos says, patient but thorough.
I explain, again, how Nathan built his redundancies, where he made mistakes, and how I recognized his coding signature. My throat aches where he choked me, voice rough, but I keep talking. This testimony will put away what's left of Prometheus, and I want them buried.
"The chemical formula he was using," Santos continues. "Where did he source the knowledge?"
"He had access to classified studies on water treatment vulnerabilities from his time consulting for Homeland Security."I pull up the files on my laptop. "Here. Every study they accessed, every weakness they exploited."
Santos reviews the data, and her expression grows grimmer. "This could have worked. If you hadn't stopped them?—"
"We did stop them." I'm too tired for hypotheticals.
"Yes." She closes the file. "Which brings me to it. The FBI wants you back. Full reinstatement, your choice of assignments, commendation for stopping a terrorist attack."
Four days ago, I would have accepted immediately. The FBI was my life, my purpose, my identity. Now...
"I need time to think."
Santos's eyebrows rise. "Time? We're offering complete vindication."
"I understand. But I almost died for an organization that turned on me the moment Nathan pointed a finger." I meet her eyes. "I need to decide if I can trust the system again."
"The system failed you. But you could help fix it from the inside."
"Maybe. Or maybe I can do more good from outside." I stand, and exhaustion makes the room tilt slightly. "I'll give you an answer tomorrow."
"Savannah—" She pauses, seems to really see me for the first time. "You're different. This experience changed you."
"It showed me who I really am." I manage a tired smile. "Turns out I'm not just an analyst who follows rules."
I leave before she can respond and leave for the hospital. Sawyer's in recovery, and the nurse tries to stop me from entering.
"Family only?—"
"I'm his fiancée." The lie comes easily, but the ring of truth in it surprises me.
