The silence that followed felt heavier than the hum of the machines.
I cleared my throat and forced myself back into work mode.
“Whatever,” I said as if knowing who Novak really was didn’t matter. Tapping a key and pulling a satellite image onto the main screen. “Here’s what I’ve got so far.”
Novak’s attention moved to the monitors.
“Compound sits just inside the tree line here.” I zoomed in, outlining the buildings with the cursor. “Three main structures, two smaller outbuildings, and a perimeter fence. Aerial footage came from open-source satellite passes and a couple of archived survey flights.”
He leaned forward slightly but didn’t interrupt.
“Most of the chatter about them comes through domestic extremism monitoring—DHS fusion center reports, a few ATF notes, the kind of stuff that flags when a prepper group starts stockpiling too much hardware or preaching apocalypse.” I switched to another image. “They’ve been on the radar for a while after they purchased the compound from the government. Cult-adjacent ideology, isolationist, armed.”
Novak studied the layout without comment.
“We’re roughly five miles out from them at this cabin,” I continued. “Too far for clean visual confirmation from the ground without getting spotted, and I can’t put a drone up.”
“Why not?”
“Too risky.” I tapped the screen again. “If they’re the kind of group the reports suggest, they’ll be watching their airspace. One drone buzzing over their compound and they’ll know someone’s looking.”
I pulled up another window, bringing up the surrounding terrain.
“So, we do it the old-fashioned way,” I said. “We get eyes on the place ourselves and set a few cameras along the perimeter.” I glanced at him. “We’ll go tonight. Darkness gives us the best chance of getting close without them clocking us.”
I reached for the chocolate bar, peeled back the wrapper, and snapped off a square. The crack sounded loud in the quiet room.
“Chocolate’s your weakness,” Novak said. “I like Peanut Butter Cups,” he said.
“The robot eats candy?”
He tilted his head. “Only that.”
I took a bite of the chocolate and leaned back a little, eyes on the screens but attention split between the data and the man sitting six feet away.
Sharing food wasn’t intimate, but the room suddenly felt warm and enclosed.
He didn’t step closer. He never did. Always that careful distance, but he watched me eat the chocolate.
I felt it without looking—the weight of his attention tracking every small movement, the way a predator watched something it hadn’t decided whether to catch or let go.
I kept typing, chewing slowly, pretending it didn’t make the back of my neck warm.
Six feet of space separated us.
“What’s with the distance shit?” I blurted, glancing up from the keyboard. “Always six feet.”
“Because six feet is the distance I need to anyone,” he said after a pause, his voice calm in that same matter-of-fact tone he used when explaining how to break a man’s neck. “Closer than that and people start to think they’re safe. They start to believe I won’t hurt them.”
His eyes held mine without blinking, but there was no threat in his gaze, no attempt to intimidate me—just a statement of fact delivered by a man who had already run the numbers and understood what he could do if the line in his head ever slipped.
“And if I ever forget that someone dies.” The words landed in the room without drama, as calm and certain as gravity.
I leaned back against the table, studying him the same way he studied everything else in the world, and the question came out before I could stop it. “You think you’re going to hurt me?”
Novak’s expression gave way to something darker and more deliberate. “No,” he said after a moment. “You’re the exception.” He held my eyes when he said it, as if making sure I understood the distinction. “The distance isn’t for me,” he continued. “It’s so I can pivot if someone comes for you.” His mouth tightened slightly before he added, almost as an afterthought, “And because if I stand any closer than that, I’ll end up touching you, and I can’t do that yet.”
Okay then. Focus on the chocolate.
