Silence snapped tight.
Before Brewster could respond, another voice cut in.
“That’s enough.”
Agent Hale—mid-forties, same level as Brewster, same calm authority—stood in the doorway. Based on his expression, he’d been listening longer than any of us wanted to admit.
“Hale,” Brewster acknowledged, stiff.
Hale’s gaze moved between us once, then settled on Brewster. “You’re too close.”
Brewster bristled. “I’m in charge of this detail.”
“And right now,” Hale said evenly, “you’re not thinking clearly.”
“That’snotyour call.”
“It is when the SAC is already questioning your judgment.”
Flint whistled softly. “Well. That’s comforting.”
Hale ignored him. “Brewster, take a walk.”
The room went dead quiet.
Brewster stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Hale said. “Five minutes. Cool off. Let us handle logistics.”
Brewster’s gaze flicked to me. Dark. Controlled. Dangerous.
“I’m not leaving her,” he said.
“I’m notaskingyou to,” Hale replied. “I’morderingyou to step back.”
For a moment, I thought Brewster might refuse.
Then his jaw flexed once.
He turned sharply and left the room without another word.
The door didn’t slam. It didn’t need to.
Flint exhaled. “Well. That was fun.”
Hale looked at me. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “You go live in twenty.”
As Flint started assembling the camera, my phone buzzed.
One notification.
Unknown sender.
I didn’t open it.
