Page 151 of Operation: Defiance

I hear what he doesn’t say, and a tiny kernel of warmth settles in my chest.

I’m not leaving you.

“Okay. I’ll…uh…be here.”

The brief quirk of his lips before he walks away is almost enough to make me smile.

I arrange the directory into rows and columns—neat, clean facts I can make sense of.

No names.

No corrections.

No escalation codes.

Just metadata waiting to be studied.

Asher

Raine works like she’s rebuilding the world from splinters.

Fingers steady on the keyboard. Spine straight. Shoulders pulled tight.

She’s not breaking.

She’s dissociating with skill.

That terrifies me more than her tears ever could.

I slip into the bedroom, leaving the door open. It’s a testament to her focus—and the trust she’s given me—that she didn’t ask who I was calling or why.

God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to stretch out on the bed and take some of the pressure off my back. But seeing her fight for every ounce of energy keeps me upright.

There’s a thread between us now—thin, new, but unmistakably there—and stepping away from her takes more effort than I expect.

I open my encrypted contacts folder—the one I only use when I can’t trust my own two eyes.

“Ruzgani,” a woman says when the call connects. Her light, refined voice reminds me of a job in Budapest eight years ago. And how I’d inadvertently saved her life by being in the right spot at the exact right time.

“Inara. It’s Asher Cole.”

She inhales like I just climbed out of my own grave.

“You’re the last person I expected to hear from again,” she says.

“I need a favor. You still working on the wrong side of the law?”

“It’s only the wrong side if you’re an idiot or an asshole,” she snaps, then her voice softens. “What do you need?”

“Quiet eyes on an apartment building in the city,” I say. “Minimal footprint. No alerts. I need to know if someone named⁠—”

Shit.

I don’t know her last name.

I head back toward the doorway. She’s bent over the laptop again, half inside that terrible world. I don’t want to break her concentration, but this matters—her identity matters.

“Raine?”