The briefing continues. Extraction protocols, contingency plans, and communication frequencies. I absorb it all, filing the information the way I file financial architectures. Routes, timelines, and backup procedures. The mathematics of getting in and getting out alive.
When it's over, the team disperses. Operators checking weapons. Women reviewing their positions. The controlled chaos of professionals preparing for a mission.
I stay at the table, staring at the schematic. The corridor. The server room. The terminal where I'll upload the framework that ends Phoenix.
Four minutes. That's all I need. Four minutes at that terminal, and everything I built gets turned back on itself.
"Hey." Cassie is standing beside my chair, tablet in hand. Her expression is neutral. The lawyer's face gives nothing away. "Can I show you something?"
She doesn't wait for an answer. She sets the tablet on the table and pulls up a document I've never seen before.
"This is the official mission file. What goes to the federal contacts after we're done. The record of what happened and who was involved."
I look at the screen. Names. Dates. Operational details. And there, in the personnel section, is my name.Julianna Stratton.
"You're listed as a mission-critical asset." Cassie's voice is matter-of-fact. "Technical specialist. Framework architect. The person who designed the weapon that took Phoenix down."
"I'm also the person who built the systems it ran on."
"That's in here too." She scrolls down. "But so is this."
She stops at a section labeled Background Context. The defection attempt. The DOJ contact. The interception. Eight months before Ghostwater.
"You already know about this. Thorne told you." Cassie meets my eyes. "But what you don't know is that he came to me the next morning. Asked me to make sure it was included in the official record. Not buried in some classified annex. Front and center, where anyone reviewing this file will see it."
I stare at the screen. The words I already know, now formatted into official documentation.
"He didn't have to do that."
"No. He didn't." Cassie closes the tablet. "But he made sure the record shows who you fought to become. Not just who you were."
She walks away before I can respond.
I sit at the table, the schematic still glowing on the laptop in front of me, and I think about what Thorne did. He told me he knew about my defection, confronted me with it, and demanded to know why I never said anything.
Then, quietly, without telling me, he made sure it was documented. Made sure the people who will judge me when this is over will know that I sought a way out.
I don't know what to do with that.
Lily findsme an hour before deployment.
I'm in the bedroom, checking my stitches, making sure they'll hold for the next twelve hours. The wound is angry, red at the edges, tender to the touch, but the sutures are solid. Skye knows her work.
The door creaks open. A small face appears in the gap.
"Julianna?"
"Hey, Lily." I lower my shirt.
She slips inside, Theodore in one hand, a piece of paper in the other. She's wearing dinosaur pajamas, different ones than before, purple with green spots, and her hair is wild from sleep.
"Daddy said you're leaving."
"For a little while. I have to help your daddy with something."
"Is it dangerous?"
I don't lie to her.
