“You shouldn’t be alone today,” I said.
She paused, then tilted her head. I could just catch the motion from the corner of my eye. Despite her stare, I didn’t turn to look at her.
“I’m not,” she said.
We both knew she wasn’t talking about the agents.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
The honesty between us was a thing you had to handle carefully. Like nitroglycerin. One wrong movement and everything went up.
“I’m not asking you to protect me,” she said.
“You wouldnever,” I told her bluntly and earned a faint smile in return along with an almost helpless shrug. Like what did I expect?
That, I expectedthat, but I didn’t comment.
“I am asking you to keep working with me.” As loaded invitations went, that one threatened to crush me.
I let out a slow breath. “Those are not the same thing.”
“No,” she agreed. “But they’re adjacent.”
There it was. The edge.
I’d shut that door a long time ago because I knew exactly what was on the other side. Because once opened, it didn’tclose again. Not cleanly. Not without cost. And because Mallory McBryan didn’t do half-measures.
The fact she was opening the door right now…
Before I could respond, Reardon shoved his way inside without knocking.
Because of course he did.
Mallory didn’t turn.
I did.
“Reardon,” I said. Flat. Neutral. A name stripped of courtesy.
“Flint.” His gaze slid between us, measuring distance, posture, alignment. He clocked proximity the way men like him always did—not to understand it, but to calculate how much it cost. “We need to talk.”
“We’re talking,” I said.
He smiled a little wider, as if indulging a child. “About optics.”
Mallory turned then, slow and deliberate. “If this is about yesterday’s numbers?—”
“It’s about tomorrow’s,” Reardon cut in smoothly. “And the next day. And the day after that.” His attention locked on her now, undiluted. “It’s about whether Washington decides you’re still worth the exposure.”
I felt the shift beside me—the way her spine straightened, the way she didn’t step back.
“Careful,” she said. Calm. Cold. “You’re drifting from concern to threat.”
Reardon smiled faintly. “No. I’m still firmly in concern.” He spread his hands in a suggestion of geniality he’d never possessed. “Threats are explicit. This is just how things tend to go.”
“Concern doesn’t usually require leverage,” she replied.
