Sharp.
“You think I didn’t know that?” I snap. “You think I didn’t calculate every single move before I let them take me?”
“Then explain it,” he fires back. “Because from where I’m standing, you almost got yourself killed.”
“I needed them to come out into the open!”
“And now they have,” he says. “And they’re trying to kill you. So congratulations—that part of your plan worked.”
I stop.
Because—
He’s not wrong.
I hate that.
“…Lord, give me strength…” I mutter.
“What are you not telling me?” he presses.
I look away.
Bad move.
He steps closer.
Worse.
“What are you carrying?” he asks again, quieter this time.
Not demanding.
Not aggressive.
Focused.
That’s the problem with him.
He doesn’t let things go.
I exhale slowly.
Because this is the part where everything changes.
“This isn’t about me,” I say finally.
“It is when people are shooting at you,” he replies.
“It’s not just me,” I correct. “It’s what I have.”
His eyes sharpen.
There it is.
“That convoy wasn’t protection,” I continue. “It was bait.”
“I figured.”
