Chapter 6 Beckett
Beckett
Debriefs were worse than briefings.
At least in briefings, everyone still had their illusions. Afterward, you had to face the ugly details. The failures. The lies.
Cyclone projected numbers and images onto the wall of the dimly lit conference room.
Bank accounts. Transfer codes. Hydra’s veins pulsing with dirty money.
Oliver muttered about weak points. Gage swore under his breath every third slide.
I sat with my arms crossed, a dull throb pounding behind my eyes.
And Elara—Elara sat straight-backed on the far side of the table, a bandage stark against the collar of her suit. Like she was proud of it. Like she wanted us to see that she’d bled alongside us. Did she always have to prove herself to Hydra?
“Elara provided accurate intel,” Cyclone said. “Warehouse matched coordinates. We recovered drives and lots of drugs. Operation’s a win. Maybe the next one we’ll rescue some humans.”
“Win?” My voice cut sharper than I meant. “We almost had a body bag.”
Cyclone’s eyes flicked to Elara. “She didn’t run. That’s something. She saved your life.”
“Doesn’t prove anything,” I shot back. My gaze locked on her. “Hydra doesn’t keep weak links. They don’t leave holes in their fences unless they want to.”
She didn’t flinch. She never did. Her chin lifted, eyes meeting mine without apology. That stare of hers was a quiet blade.
“Beckett,” Oliver warned, low.
But I wasn’t finished. “You want me to believe she didn’t know Hydra trafficked kids? Women? Drugs?” My jaw ground so hard it hurt. “Don’t insult me. Nobody with her access is that blind.”
For the first time, something flickered across her face. Not guilt. Not shame. Anger. Controlled, dangerous anger.
“Then maybe,” Elara said softly, “you don’t know Hydra as well as you think.”
Silence. You could have heard a pin hit the tile.
River broke it with the scrape of a chair. “That’ll do. We’ll take it from here.”
But as they moved to shuffle her off for interrogation, her eyes never left mine. Cold. Burning. A message I couldn’t read.
Distrust carved deeper into my gut. But so did something else—something I didn’t want to name.