“Welcome home.”He smiles warmly.“It’s rare to have us all in one place.We’re usually scattered across the globe, most of you on reconnaissance or undercover operations, dangerous work that keeps us moving.But for this…” He tips his drink in my direction.“ForEl Vigilante, you all came back.”
“It’s called FOMO.”Camila laughs.
A ripple of assent moves around the table.Glasses lift.
“And you…” Matias turns fully toward me.“You have done this.Your presence gathered the circle.For that, you have my thanks.Our thanks.”He lifts his glass higher.“Salud.”
“Salud,” the table answers, voices overlapping and glasses meeting with ringing clinks.
I take a sip, let the moment settle, and set down my glass.
When I clear my throat, it’s soft but deliberate.Heads turn.The room yields again.
“Thank you for the hospitality.For the welcome.For the food.”I incline my head to Camila, then Matias.“It’s been… Thorough.”
A few smiles flicker.I don’t return them.
“There’s something we need to discuss before the next course.”I square my shoulders.“A demand.Two of them, actually.”
“This should be interesting.”Van reclines, waggling a toothpick between his lips.
Matias lifts a hand, the motion casual but carrying weight.
“Hable con todos.”He flicks his fingers outward, indicating the table.“Speak.”
“All right.”I turn my body toward the circle and let my gaze travel, meeting eyes and measuring attention.“Wolf accepted your job offer, but I have limits.His involvement will be solely in an intelligence capacity.He’ll provide analysis, strategy, and ideas.”I clamp a hand on his jogging knee beneath the table, calming him.“He will not be deployed as a spy.He will not be an operative.He will not be placed in the field or anywhere that requires a weapon.”
I squeeze his knee, a quiet warning, and feel the argument coil in him anyway.When we talked this through earlier, he said this condition wasn’t necessary, that he could handle himself.
Dove and I didn’t budge.
In our democracy of three, he lost that vote.
“He stays here.”I keep my hand on his leg, reminding him to remain quiet.“At the table.In rooms like this.Where minds are used instead of bodies.”
“What I’m hearing is…” Van grins around the toothpick.“No more wearable surprises?”
“No bombs.No bullets.No danger.Wolf stays out of the line of fire.”I set my forearms on the table and harden my voice.“I agreed to give you my life for one reason only.The protection of Wolf and Dove.”
“The terms changed.”Matias sips from his glass, watching me over the rim.“When your Wolf arrived wearing a bomb, he demonstrated capabilities that align with our needs.”
“He isnotcollateral!”I slam a fist onto the table, rattling the dishes.“He’s not leverage or incentive or a fucking clause in a contract.Everything else is negotiable.Thatis not.”
The room goes quiet, eyes shifting, calculating, but not objecting.
Matias studies Wolf, assessing posture and expression, marking Wolf’s stillness, which reads as confidence rather than compliance.Then his gaze returns to me.
“I’ll agree,” he says at last.“With conditions.”
Here we go.
“I’m listening.”
“Wolf answers to the table.”He tips his glass at the inner circle.“Not to you alone.When we ask for his mind, we get it.Fully.”
“That was always implied.”
“And we want the Russians.”His eyes cut to Wolf.“In the nightclub, you wore devices no one detected, cameras and other hidden communications that allowed the Russians to see and hear everything.And the explosive… It was invisible enough to sneak inside.”He tilts his head.“The Ghost built all that?”
