Page 293 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘I told him to talk to you about it in person, but he can be stubborn,’ Blaire intones calmly, drinking her coffee, ‘like you.’

‘I don’t accept.’

‘I told him you would say that.’

‘Fuck his sulky bullshit. I’m not signing off on it.’

‘So, you intend to detain him once his notice expires? Resignation is notification, Lachlan, not a request.’

‘I can hold him in breach of contract.’

‘No, you cannot.’

‘He has principal-level clearance. He needs a compartment audit, weapons reconciliation and formal debrief before he can be released.’ Lachlan hears himself assembling the barricade piece by piece. ‘I control the scheduling. I can delay it.’

‘For how long?’

‘As long as necessary.’

‘Forever, then?’

‘I’ll deal with it. Was that all?’

‘Hardly.’

Lachlan touches his earpiece.

‘Control, give me eyes on Cascade.’

He waits a few seconds.

‘Eight bells, Kestrel. Eyes on.’

‘Heard.’

‘Locking up the people you love—’

‘Blaire, I’m busy. Very, very busy, OK?’

‘You are exhausted, Lachlan. When did you last sleep?’

‘This morning.’

‘For how long?’

‘I’m not a child!’ he snaps, fist slamming into the desk, cracking the dormant built-in screen Carrigan had used.

Blaire just stares at him.

He looks away, should apologise, should explain.

Where the fuck would he even begin?

‘You are twenty-six years old with the weight of several worlds on your back. I ask because I love you, because I care.’

‘I felt certain you just assured me you weren’t here to declare—’

‘My regard for you is nothing but stone-cold acceptance of who you are, understanding of what you need and appreciation for all that you do.’