Wrecker’s brow furrowed. “It doesn’t mean anything bad about you.”
“It feels like it does,” I admitted. “Like I should be past this by now.”
“You were just kidnapped,” he said flatly. “There’s no ‘past this’ on a timeline.”
“I didn’t fall apart,” I said, more to myself than him. “But I almost did.”
“But you didn’t,” he replied. “That matters.”
Doc came back in with water and a small kit, moving efficiently. He checked bruises, cleaned a shallow cut on my arm, wrapped it carefully. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t comment on the blood.
When he finished, he squeezed my shoulder once. “You did good.”
After he left, I sat there for a long moment, letting the quiet settle. Letting my body catch up to where I already knew I was.
Mine.
That was when I heard it.
Not in the room.
In the hallway.
Cap’s voice. Low. Tight.
“…Scout’s burner was there. Same model. Same prefix.”
My stomach dropped.
Another voice, Ghost’s, quiet but unmistakable. “Name was on a transfer list. Two days ago.”
Transfer.
My fingers tightened around the glass.
Wrecker noticed immediately. “What did you hear?”
I hesitated.
I didn’t want to say it out loud. Saying it would make it real in a way I wasn’t sure I could handle yet.
“Scout,” I whispered.
Wrecker went still.
“They found his name,” I said, the words tumbling out now. “Didn’t they?”
His jaw clenched. “Yeah.”
The relief I’d been clinging to shattered.
“He was there,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“And he’s not now.”
Wrecker shook his head once. “Not anymore.”
