And I don’t lose what’s mine.
Voices carry differently in this place. Not loud. Not careless. Just enough that if you’re paying attention, you hear what you’re not supposed to.
I’m not trying to listen.
That’s the part that makes it worse.
I’m walking down the hallway, slower than I should be, one hand trailing lightly along the wall to steady myself even though the dizziness has mostly faded. My head still aches, a dull pressure that pulses behind my eyes, but it’s manageable now. Manageable enough that I’m not confined to the room anymore. Manageable enough that I told myself I could handle a few steps, a few minutes outside that space without falling apart.
I didn’t expect to stop halfway down the hall. I didn’t expect to hear my name.
“…Olivia Martin.”
Everything in me stills. I don’t move closer. I don’t lean in. I just…stay where I am.
“…we’ve got a problem.”
Dom.
His tone is different this time. Not analytical. Not detached. Tight.
I slow without meaning to.
Inside, something shifts.
Logan’s voice follows, low and sharp. “Define it.”
There’s a beat.
Then Dom again, quieter now. “They’re adjusting.”
My stomach tightens.
I don’t want to hear this.
I don’t walk away.
“They expected resistance,” Dom continues. “We disrupted the grab, we disposed of a few of their guys, and now they know this isn’t clean anymore.”
“What does that change?” Cain asks.
“Everything,” Dom answers. “They don’t walk away from a target once it’s compromised.”
Target.
The word lands harder than it should.
Landon exhales slowly. “You’re saying they double down.”
“I’m saying they escalate,” Dom replies. “We intercepted two attempts now. That doesn’t take her off their list, it moves her up.”
Something cold slides down my spine.
Moves her up.
Logan’s voice cuts in. “You sure?”
Paper shifts. A keyboard clicks.
