"Documentation is critical for the after-action report." Maya snapped another photo of Cory's forehead, the flash making him wince. "And fighting off potential lawsuits."
"Nobody's suing anybody," Cory said, though his cop brain was already cataloging the legal ramifications.
"Maybe we’ll sue Janet Morrison." Axel's voice went dark. "Woman tries to murder our people? She's lucky she's in custody is all I gotta say."
The protective fury in the big man's tone made Cory reassess his earlier wariness. These people had accepted him as one of their own, apparently. When had that happened?
Ronan had been quietly observing, but now he moved closer to Cory's bed, arms crossed in that way that meant incoming interrogation. Cory recognized the look—he'd worn it himself countless times.
"Walk me through the cabin breach. You had two flash-bangs?"
"Standard loadout," Cory confirmed. "Izzy insisted on full tactical gear for the approach."
"Smart. And the decision to detonate inside?"
"That was all Izzy," Cory said immediately, unable to keep the admiration from his voice. "I was still trying to break downthe door like an idiot. She recognized we needed deception, not force."
"Classic Fraser," Kenji laughed. "When in doubt, hit it harder."
Heat crept up Cory's neck. Was he really that predictable?
"It was risky," Ronan continued, ignoring the commentary. "Flash-bang in an enclosed space with CO poisoning already affecting cognitive function. Could have disoriented you both into unconsciousness."
"We were about thirty seconds from unconsciousness anyway," Izzy pointed out.
"Plus she knew Janet expected us to come through the door," Cory added, needing them to understand how brilliant she'd been. "The misdirection was brilliant. Make her think we'd died, bring her in to check."
"Except you couldn't hear her coming after the bang," Maya said, looking up from her documentation. "How did you know when to move?"
Cory exchanged glances with Izzy, remembering those terrifying moments of visual-only awareness. The way they'd had to trust each other completely, communicate without words.
"Saw shadows under the door," Izzy said. "Watched the handle turn."
"And then Tom knocked her out with champagne," Kenji added gleefully. "Which is the most romantically tragic thing I've ever heard. Forty years of marriage ended by anniversary bubbly."
"It's not funny," Deke said quietly.
"It's a little funny," Kenji insisted. "In a horrible, Greek tragedy sort of way."
"You're all insane," Maya muttered, but Cory caught her fighting a smile as she continued her photographic assault on their injuries.
"Speaking of Tom," Deke said quietly, "he's upstairs. Psych ward. Complete breakdown when he realized what Janet had done. Keeps saying he should have seen it, should have known."
The room fell silent. Forty years of marriage reduced to attempted murder and psychiatric holds.
Izzy's phone buzzed, mercifully breaking the moment. Her wide grin beneath the oxygen mask said it all.
“She’s home,” Cory said.
Izzy blinked back tears, still staring at her screen. “Wilson just texted.”
Cory's hand found hers across the gap between beds, warm and steady.
"Gracias, Dios," she whispered. "Thank you for keeping her safe. For keeping us all safe. For?—"
"Amen," Cory said softly, squeezing her hand.
"Amen," her team echoed, voices unusually gentle.
