Page 223 of Operation: Defiance

Raine pushes her bowl away. “They know I care about Tessa. She’ll be next.”

I close my eyes, seeing her that first night. How hard she fought for a fucking sip of chicken broth. What even that small motion took from her.

There’s only one move left that keeps her out of their hands.

“Tessa’s their next logical move. Unless they can find someone better.”

Her chair scrapes against the hardwood floor as Raine jerks to her feet and backs away from the table. ”No. Absolutely not.”

Slowly, I brace my hands flat on the wood, push up, and follow her into the living room. I don’t touch her. Don’t get too close. Keep my voice low and steady. “If they have me, killing Ellen doesn’t give them anything more than a body they have to explain away. Loose ends that need to be tied up. Her house. Her car. Credit cards. Remnants of a life. A chance someone else could discover what they’re doing and why.”

“Asher, they won’t send you to Coherent Path. You’ll be in GSD custody. Their detention center. Advanced interrogation protocols,” she manages. “If they catch me, they’ll send me back to the black site and run enough electricity through my head to kill me instantly. But you…” The backs of her knees hit the couch, and she doesn’t sit so much as collapse. “They’ll hurt you. And they won’t stop until there’s nothing left of you to break.”

I crouch down in front of her, holding her gaze long enough, a single tear threatens to spill down her cheek. “This is the only move that saves Ellen and keeps you out of their hands. I can survive pain. I won’t survive losing you.”

The city glows faintly beyond the glass to our right. People living their lives oblivious to all the agents GSD has destroyed over the years.

The tear falls, and I reach up to catch it with my thumb. “This buys us enough time for you to talk to Northbridge. And if I choose my words carefully, I can make them believe they’re in control.”

Chapter Sixty-One

Raine

I stare at his hands. The hands he never hides from me. At the tear glistening on his thumb. I think about how tomorrow, those hands will be trapped in cuffs. Or bloody. Or shaking.

They’ll do everything they can to break him. And they’ll succeed. Even if it all goes as planned. Even if Northbridge calls at exactly four thirty. Even if they can manage to get me the Procedure Index, the logs, video evidence of what goes on inside the black site. Asher will never be the man he is right now again.

“It changes you,” I say, surprised—and a little proud—that my voice is clear. “Enhanced interrogation. I’ve seen it.”

“I know. There is no version of this where one of us isn’t forever changed. But you’ve survived enough hell, Raine. And you’re the only one who can finish this. Whatever they do…I’ll come out the other side.”

He’s right. Mostly. GSD will keep him alive as long as he’s useful. But once I go public…will they consider him nothing more than a liability?

I’ve run dozens of extractions. Some were rescues. Others, nothing more than government-sanctioned kidnappings. The targets were clear—Assets. Terrorists. Murderers. Every single op plays on its own loop in my head over and over again.

“How will you do it? Let them think they’ve trapped you?” I need to know the plan so I can track it. Track him.

Asher braces his hands on his thighs to push himself to his feet. “I need to cook some meals for you. Come into the kitchen with me and we can talk it over.”

I follow him, catching his arm before we make it more than three steps. “You…no. That’s not⁠—”

“It is.”

Any argument I might have made fades at the anguish in his eyes. He’s doing this for me, yes. But also for himself. Whether he needs something to do with his hands or needs to know that I’m eating while he’s…not isn’t clear.

I drop his arm, painfully aware that this could be our last night together.

He’s already pulling ingredients from the fridge. Vegetables, chicken, tofu. Potatoes and garlic from cabinets. Stock from the freezer.

The apple pie is still cooling on the counter. We never had a chance to cut into it.

“I’ll go back to the Seattle safe house in the morning,” he says.

The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board brings a hint of structure to the world around me. That matters more than I can say.

“They’re already circling that area. It won’t take much.”

“No,” he agrees. “If I use your credentials and hit that internal archive you found without a VPN, they’ll trace the IP address in minutes. I can sever the connection almost immediately. Open a VPN, reconnect. It’ll look like a mistake.”