Jordan’s throat tightens. She glances at me.
I step closer so Clint can see me in the frame.
Clint’s eyes widen slightly. “Lonari.”
“Hello,” I say.
Clint swallows. “This is insane.”
“Welcome,” I reply.
Jordan snaps, “Clint, listen to me. You have to?—”
Clint cuts her off, voice strained. “Jordan, I’m not calling to debate. I’m calling because I think they’re about to yank me off the board.”
Jordan’s voice breaks slightly. “Then get out.”
Clint laughs once, bleak. “To where? IHC has my access, my housing, my identity. I’m not exactly built for… syndicate life.”
Jordan’s eyes flick to me again.
I don’t hesitate.
“Come to Gur,” I say.
Clint blinks. “What?”
“I authorize extraction,” I say, voice steady. “Kaijen protection. Ghostline route. You’ll be safer under my roof than under your own government’s knife.”
Jordan’s eyes widen. “Lonari—bringing him here makes us a bigger target.”
“I’m aware,” I say.
Clint stares, stunned. “You’re offering me… asylum?”
I tilt my head. “I’m offering you survival.”
Jordan’s voice turns sharp, almost pleading. “Clint, say yes. Please.”
Clint hesitates—fear battling loyalty and the instinct to cling to the institution that raised him.
Then his shoulders slump, and he says quietly, “Okay. Yes. I’ll come.”
Jordan exhales like she’s been holding her breath for years.
Clint’s eyes lock onto mine through the holo. “If I do this, there’s no going back.”
I nod once. “That’s correct.”
He swallows. “Then… give me the route.”
“Jordan will,” I say, and glance at her.
Jordan’s hands are already moving, typing fast, eyes bright with adrenaline.
“Copy,” she says. “I’ll send you a clean window.”
Clint nods, then his expression tightens. “One more thing.”
