Not because it didn’t hurt—but because Sentinel was watching my pulse, not my face.
“You care,” he said.
“I assess,” I replied.
“Liar.”
The screen shifted.
Another clip.
Adam and Raine.
Together.
Safe.
Very much alive.
My chest tightened—just slightly.
Sentinel smiled for the first time.
“There it is,” he murmured. “Relief.”
“You won’t use them,” I said.
“Oh, I already did,” he replied calmly. “I used them to make a point.”
He stepped closer—not crowding me, but close enough to claim the space.
“You’re not the kind who breaks when threatened,” he continued. “You break when you’reresponsible.”
I said nothing.
Because he was right.
“You study the aftermath,” Sentinel said. “You put people back together. You make sense of what men like me do.”
He leaned in, voice lowering.
“So let me show you something new.”
The screen changed again.
This time, it wasn’t Logan.
It was a file.
Psychological profiles. Case studies.
Names I recognized.
Some I’d testified for.
Some I’d helped clear.
Some I’d failed.
