My marks flare bright enough to hurt. Rage. Recognition. The terrible clarity of finally having a name for the ghost that's been haunting me.
Webb sold us. Webb got half our unit killed. Webb is the reason Astra was taken, the reason I had to make that choice, the reason six years of my life taste like ash and mathematics.
And he's alive.
Working for the Vex.
Close enough to reach.
I'm on my feet before I make the conscious decision to move. The file transfers to my personal device. I'm halfway to the door when I stop.
Astra needs to see this. She has the same right to Webb's face, Webb's location, Webb's throat that I do.
She also has a team. Resources. The authority to mobilize a hunting party.
I could tell her. We could work together. Coordinate. Do this smart.
Or I could go alone. Fast. Finish it before she has time to make it complicated with questions about due process and interrogation protocols.
Six years ago, I chose the mission over her life.
This time, I choose to walk back down the corridor. Find her office. Let her be part of this.
Not because the math says to.
Because she's earned it.
And because, for once, the calculation that matters isn't the one about survival.
It's the one about what kind of man I want to be when she's watching.
Her office door is closed.I don't knock. Just override the lock with my command codes and walk in.
She's on her feet instantly. Hand on her sidearm. The barrel's pointed at my chest before I finish crossing the threshold.
"Easy," I say.
"Get out."
"I have something you need to see."
"I don't need anything from you."
I hold up my display. Let her see Webb's face on the screen.
Her gun doesn't waver. But her eyes shift. Just for a second. To the image.
Recognition hits her like a physical blow. I feel it through her walls. The spike of shock, the flood of rage, the bitter satisfaction of finally,finallyhaving a target.
"Where?" Her voice has gone dead flat. The tone that means she's given up on something. Or decided to kill it.
"Vex station. Two jumps."
"When was this taken?"
"Three days ago."
Her gun lowers. Slowly. She crosses to me. Takes the display from my hand. Studies Webb's face with an expression I can't quite read.
