The room felt suddenly smaller. The walls too close. My skin prickled.
“They moved him,” I said slowly. “Just like they were going to move us.”
Wrecker didn’t deny it.
A wave of guilt hit me so hard it stole my breath.
“If you hadn’t come for me?—”
“Stop,” he said sharply.
“But they might’ve had more time to track him,” I insisted. “They might’ve?—”
“No,” he said again, firmer this time. “You don’t get to put that on yourself.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting the sting behind my eyes.
“He helped me,” I said quietly. “Before. At the compound. He joked with me when I was nervous. He made me feel like I wasn’t just… baggage.”
Wrecker exhaled slowly. “Scout’s one of ours.”
“So am I,” I said, surprising both of us.
He looked at me then, something like pride flickering across his face.
“Yes,” he said. “You are.”
The panic didn’t come back this time.
Something else did.
Resolve.
“I heard them talking,” I said. “At the warehouse. Not everything they said made sense, but— it wasn’t just random. They had lists. Schedules. That place was a stop.”
Wrecker leaned in. “What do you remember?”
I closed my eyes, forcing myself back into the memory, even though my body protested. “They talked about timing. About moving people before dawn. One of them said something about a reroute.”
Wrecker nodded slowly. “That helps.”
“I don’t want to be protected in the dark,” I said. “I want to know what’s happening.”
He studied me for a long moment.
Then he nodded. “Okay.”
The simple agreement steadied me more than anything else had.
A knock sounded at the door. Cap stepped in, expression softer when he saw me sitting upright.
“You holding up?” he asked.
“I will,” I said.
He nodded once. “We’re not done.”
“I know,” I said.
