Page 41 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir
She lifts the sensor, aligns the housing, and tilts it for better angle diffraction. Just enough to counter the distortion field from the sewer grid above.
It’s a good adjustment.
No—it’sperfect.
I step over. “That the S-12 variant?”
She nods without looking up. “Has a lower signal footprint. Won’t trip the ion dampeners.”
“Angle’s tight.”
“I know.”
She closes the panel, seals the latch, and finally looks at me.
“You saw it,” she says.
It’s not a question.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“Command says we wait.”
Her jaw flexes, but she doesn’t say I told you so. Doesn’t throw it back in my face that her gut flagged it days before my sensors confirmed it.
She just nods.
That hurts more.
I set the relay module aside and sit beside her, knees brushing. I don’t pull back. Not yet.
“You were right,” I say.
Leah arches a brow. “That a confession?”
“Call it an operational reclassification.”
She smirks. “That’s romantic.”
I huff. “I’m adjusting your access.”
That gets her attention.
“To what?”
“Full base feeds. Tactical overlays. Encryption queues. You’re seeing everything I see from now on.”
There’s a beat.
“Why?” she asks.
I look at her.
Really look.
“Because I trust you more than I trust Command.”
