Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Even when that old instinct pulls at me to adjust, to soften, to become smaller so nothing stands out—
I don’t.
I hold the line.
Barely.
But I hold it.
Across the room, the tech is already gone.
Like nothing happened.
Like it didn’t matter.
But it did.
Because now I know.
Sentinel doesn’t need access.
He doesn’t need proximity.
He doesn’t need force.
He just needs—
The right pressure.
In the right place.
At the right time.
And for a second—
I almost gave it to him.
But I didn’t.
Not completely.
And as Logan moves beside me again, steady and unshaken—
I realize something important.
This isn’t about never feeling it.
Never reacting.
Never slipping.
It’s about what I do next.
And this time—
I didn’t disappear.
