“No.”
A beat.
“Attachment.”
The word settles like a blade.
Because that’s where even the strongest systems fail.
Not under pressure.
Under feeling.
Sentinel turns away from the screen, already moving toward the door.
“Prepare a new access point,” he orders. “Something smaller. Personal. No noise.”
“What’s the objective?”
Sentinel pauses, hand resting lightly on the frame.
Then—
“We don’t take her,” he says.
A quiet breath.
“We make her choose.”
And this time—
He intends to watch her break.
23
Logan
Idon’t leave.
That’s the first thing I register.
Not when the medic signs off.
Not when the hallway clears.
Not even when Boone gives me a look that sayswe need to talk.
I stay.
Scout is resting—if you can call it that. She’s lying back against the pillow now, eyes closed, but I know she’s not fully under. Her breathing is too controlled. Too aware.
She’s still tracking.
Even here.
I lean against the wall near the door, arms crossed loosely, watching her without making it obvious.
It’s habit.
