Concerned.
Which somehow hits harder.
“You’re allowed to breathe for five minutes,” he says quietly.
“I don’t have five minutes.”
“Yes,” Boone says.
“You do.”
Before I can argue, he pulls me gently toward him.
His arms wrap around me.
Strong.
Warm.
Solid.
For a moment I freeze.
Because I’m not used to this.
Not in the middle of chaos.
Not when everything feels like it’s falling apart.
But Boone just holds me.
Like the storm outside the helicopter doesn’t exist.
Like the world isn’t about to collapse into a network cascade.
His voice drops near my ear.
“You’re not alone in this.”
Something tight in my chest loosens slightly.
“I know.”
“You don’t act like it.”
I exhale slowly.
“You saw the projections.”
“Yes.”
“And if we fail—”
“We won’t.”
I pull back enough to look at him.
“You can’t promise that.”
