Ethan moves in, weapon up.
“Stand down!” he snaps.
Daniel ignores him.
He shifts again, trying to roll, trying to gain leverage—
Ronan is there.
Like a ghost stepping into existence.
He grabs Daniel’s arm mid-motion andwrenchesit back.
Controlled.
Precise.
Brutal.
Daniel stills.
Not out of fear.
Out of calculation.
Weapons are up now.
All of them.
Pointed.
Locked.
Ready.
And I’m standing there with the device clutched tight in my hands, my pulse hammering like I’m back in the cockpit pulling Gs.
“You make one more move,” Ethan says coldly, “and this ends differently.”
Daniel’s chest rises and falls once.
Twice.
Then—
Slowly—
He stops fighting.
Jase doesn’t let go.
Doesn’t ease up.
Doesn’t trust it.
Neither do I.
“Bad move,” Jase mutters.
