“Christ.” Dom turned away and ran a hand through his hair. “They can map the vulnerabilities. Plan an attack. Get to Viktor, to Sebastian, to Adrian.”
“The codes are incomplete. They won't work without the secondary authentication?—”
“You don't know that.” He spun back. “You're guessing. Hoping. But you don't actually know if what you gave them is enough.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“No. You did what you wanted to do. What made you feel less guilty. What let you save one person at the cost of everyone else.” Dom's expression was raw, furious, and underneath the fury something that looked like grief. “And you lied to me. Looked me in the eye and lied.”
“I didn't lie?—”
“You said it was nothing. Just now, when I asked about the message. You lied.”
“I was protecting operational security,” I said, and it sounded weak even to me.
“You were protecting yourself.” Dom stepped closer. “Because you knew I'd be furious. Knew I'd tell you this was reckless. Knew I'd stop you if I could. So you did it anyway and hoped I'd never find out.”
“Yes.” The admission tasted like ash. “Yes, I did. Because I couldn't let him die, couldn't stand there and do nothing while Harrow tortured him for information. So I made the trade, and I'd make it again.”
“Then we have a problem.”
“We've always had a problem.” My voice went cold. “You want someone who asks permission. Who puts the mission first. That's not me. It never has been.”
“I want someone who doesn't lie to me.” Dom's hands came up and gripped my shoulders hard enough to hurt. “That's it. That's the bar. And you just failed to clear it.”
“Then let go.” I tried to pull away. He didn't let me. “Let go, Dom.”
“No.”
“Let. Go.”
“Make me.”
We stared at each other, his grip iron, his expression furious and hurt and full of something else I couldn't name and wasn't ready to.
“I'm angry,” he said finally. “I'm furious. But I'm not done. Not walking away. Not yet.”
“You should.”
“Probably. But I'm not.” His grip loosened slightly. “So here's what happens next. You tell Adrian what you did—all of it—and then we figure out how to fix it.”
“There's nothing to fix?—”
“Then we verify that. We make sure what you gave them isn't enough to use, and if it is, we prepare.” His voice hardened. “But you don't make another move without telling me. Understand?”
“I can't promise that.”
“Then try.” His forehead pressed against mine. “Because if you lie to me again, if you make another trade behind my back, if you endanger the people I love because you think your guilt matters more than their lives, we're done. Completely. No second chances.”
The ultimatum was clear. Final.
“Understood,” I said quietly.
