Chapter 65
Clay
Something’s off.
I feel it before I see it.
Before anyone says anything.
Before the room even settles.
It’s in the way Russ walks in.
Too quiet.
Too controlled.
Not his usual pace.
Not his usual presence.
The team’s already gathered—Lucas, Miles, Boone, Hawk—all spread out around the table, mid-conversation.
That stops the second Russ steps in.
Yeah.
Definitely something off.
I lean back in my chair slightly, arms folded.
Watch.
Wait.
Because whatever this is—
It’s coming.
Russ doesn’t speak right away.
Doesn’t rush it.
He just sets a file down on the table.
Looks at all of us.
Then—
“We’ve got a situation.”
Miles exhales under his breath.
“Don’t we always.”
Russ ignores that.
His gaze sweeps the room.
Then—
It lands on me.
Just for a second.
Too quick for most people to notice.
Not quick enough for me.
Yeah.
This has something to do with me.
I straighten slightly.
Not obvious.
Just enough.
“What kind of situation?” Lucas asks.
Russ doesn’t answer right away.
Instead, he opens the file.
Turns it around.
Slides it across the table.
Right into the center.
We all lean in.
Photos.
Reports.
Locations.
Medical tags.
That’s what catches my attention.
Medical.
My jaw tightens slightly.
Because there’s only one reason that would matter—
“She was supposed to check in three days ago,” Russ says.
Calm.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
“She didn’t.”
Something in my chest shifts.
Small.
Sharp.
Unwelcome.
“She?” Miles asks.
Russ doesn’t look away from me this time.
“Dr. Hannah Bowers.”
Everything—
Goes still.
Not the room.
Not the team.
Me.
Like something just locked into place.
Hard.
Final.
I don’t move.
Don’t react.
Not on the outside.
Inside?
Different story.
“She was working with a medical relief unit near the border,” Russ continues. “Routine assignment. Low-risk.”
Low-risk.
That’s a joke.
There’s no such thing.
“Contact was lost forty-eight hours ago,” he adds.
Forty-eight.
My mind starts running numbers.
Timelines.
Distance.
Worst-case scenarios.
I shut that down fast.
Not helpful.
Not yet.
“What do we know?” Lucas asks.
“Not enough,” Russ answers. “Last confirmed location puts her near a convoy that never made it to its destination.”
Ambush.
Or worse.
I push that thought away too.
Focus.
Need facts.
Need—
“Could be a delay,” Miles says. “Comms failure. Happens all the time.”
Russ doesn’t respond.
That tells me everything I need to know.
Yeah.
He doesn’t believe that.
Neither do I.
“She wasn’t alone,” Russ says. “But no one else from that team has checked in either.”
My fingers tighten slightly against my arm.
Just enough to feel it.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
“She’s trained,” Boone adds. “Smart. She can handle herself.”
Yeah.
She can.
I’ve seen it.
That doesn’t make her bulletproof.
That doesn’t make her—
I stop that thought.
Hard.
Because this is not—
No.
I lean forward slightly.
Finally.
“What’s the play?” I ask.
My voice is steady.
Flat.
Controlled.
Exactly how it should be.
But every eye in the room shifts to me anyway.
Because they hear it.
That edge.
That difference.
Russ watches me for a second.
Like he’s measuring something.
Then—
“We’re still gathering intel,” he says.
Not good enough.
“We don’t wait,” I reply.
It comes out faster than I intend.
Sharper too.
Miles glances at Lucas.
Lucas doesn’t look away from me.
“You volunteering?” he asks.
Yeah.
That’s a stupid question.
“You already know the answer to that.”
Silence.
Then—
Russ nods once.
Slow.
“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”
Another beat.
Then—
“Gear up,” he adds.
Just like that.
Decision made.
Mission set.
I push to my feet.
Ignore the pull in my ribs.
Ignore the warning.
Doesn’t matter.
Nothing else matters right now.
Because there’s only one thing running through my head—
One thought I can’t shut down.
She didn’t check in.
And I didn’t go back.
Didn’t fix it.
Didn’t—
My jaw tightens hard.
Because I don’t get to think about that now.
Not when there’s still time.
Not when there’s still a chance.
I grab my gear.
Move fast.
Focused.
Locked in.
Because this?
This is what I do.
And I’m not too late.
Not this time.