“I know.”
“I’ll adjust the protocols,” Viper says in a flat, efficient tone. “Vaughn’s team will start triangulating now that the vehicle’s been recovered.”
My hand tightens around Kira’s before I realize it. “You’re not wrong,” I tell Viper, “but you could say it like she’s a person, not a threat assessment.”
His head snaps toward me, his eyes cold. “There it is.”
Kira looks between us, confusion clouds her face, followed by hurt, and my chest gets hot.
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “You’re standing there talking about her like she’s a problem to be managed.”
“I’m talking about reality,” he shoots back. “The same reality you’re apparently willing to ignore.”
I level a glare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He glares back, his jaw flexing. “You made this personal, and once you do that, you stop thinking clearly.”
Kira turns her body fully toward him. “Silas?—”
He doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t even acknowledge the sound of her voice.
“I don’t have the luxury of getting attached,” he tells me. “Neither should you.”
Kira lifts a tissue to her eyes again, and I squeeze her forearm. “This isn’t on you,” I tell her. “None of it.”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
Atlas steps in before I can say something else to Viper that would scorch the ground between us. “We handle this together,” Atlas says. “Same way we always have.”
Viper barks out a short, humorless laugh. “You already are.” He looks at Kira, his gaze briefly scanning her face, his expression shuttered tight. “I’ll update the protocols,” he repeats. “Someone around here needs to stay focused.”
Then he turns and walks out.
Kira stares blankly at the screen, which is now showing a weather report.
Anotherstorm coming.
Later, after Atlas leaves to make calls and Kira goes upstairs to read, I go looking for Silas and find him in the armory methodically checking weapon serials. He ignores me for a full minute.
“You going to pretend I’m not here?”
He doesn’t look up.
“Kira already has enough shit going on,” I say. “She doesn’t need more from you.”
He finally turns, narrowing his eyes at me. “All I’m doing is staying out of it.”
“You’re burning bridges because you’re afraid of where they lead.”
His laugh is bitter. “Careful, Boyd. You’re starting to sound like a psychoanalyst.”
“Funny. I learned it from you.”
He sneers as he sets a rifle down. “You’ve chosen your side.”
“This isn’t about sides. It’s about people.”
“Then why don’t you man up and claim what you want?” he snaps. “You’re settling for scraps.”
