"How long do we have?"
"Depends on how fast they mobilize reinforcements."
"Then we use that time." She meets my eyes. Steady. Determined. "We keep Traci safe. We extract what she knows. We build the case against the Marshal. And when they come, we're ready."
Standing here in the darkness with Helena beside me and threats moving in the forest, everything clicks. The conversation we just had wasn't theoretical. It was preparation. Helena showing me I can function as both operator and man. That caring doesn't make me weak.
That maybe I'm not as destroyed as I thought.
"Thank you," I say. "For what you said. About Syria."
"I meant it." She touches my arm briefly. The contact sends heat straight through me even though it's just her fingers on my sleeve. "You're stronger than you think, Eli. And you're not alone anymore."
She leaves me at the window with tactical assessments and the ghost of her touch burning through fabric.
I watch the forest. Run scenarios. Calculate response times and defensive positioning.
But underneath the operative mode, something else is running. The awareness that Helena sees me. Not just the tactical exterior. Not just the damage. All of it.
For the first time in years, that doesn't feel like weakness. It feels like possibility, and that feels dangerous.
