Page 65 of Scaled Daddy's Secret Heir
“And they want me on mission support.”
Another nod.
Leah laughs once, low and bitter. “Of course they do. Standard procedure: use the familiar asset to leverage compliance.”
Her eyes flick to mine, sharp and unreadable.
“Did you push back?”
“I tried. They shut it down.”
“Figures.” She pushes to her feet, pacing once. “What’s the target?”
“League high-strategist. Talvek.”
“The Talvek?”
I nod.
Her voice drops. “They’ve been after him for cycles.”
“Exactly. And now they’re rushing it.”
She tilts her head. “Feels like a setup.”
“Or a purge,” I mutter. “Political housecleaning in a war they say is winding down.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then: “Are we actually going to do this?”
I look at her—really look at her. The circles under her eyes. The tension in her jaw. The way her hand hovers too long near her midsection before she catches herself.
There’s something off.
But I don’t press it.
Not now.
Instead, I say: “I think if we don’t, they’ll find someone who will. And they’ll send you anyway, without me to run the math.”
Her lips tighten.
And that’s it.
That’s the truth.
Later,in the corridor leading back to command staging, she stops.
“You’re really going to do it,” she says, soft.
I nod.
“Even though it stinks.”
“Especially because it stinks.”
She looks away, jaw working like she wants to spit something sharp and dangerous and true. But instead, she just says, “Watch your six, Kalev.”
I reach for her hand. Grip it once. Hard.
