Page 85 of The Scout

Coffee and water were enough for me. I functioned better on empty. A full stomach slowed me down, made me too aware of my body. I needed to be sharp. Focused. Unbreakable.

After a few bites, she set the fork down and met my gaze. “Tell me how this is going to work.”

I leaned back in my chair, rolling my shoulders. “Multiple teams will have eyes on the exchange. The enemy will expect that. We’ll have surveillance from the water, from the land, and from the air. But I’ll be the one going in for Will.”

Her body tensed. “No.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“It’s too dangerous,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t?—”

“This is what I do, Isabel.” My voice was calm, even, because I’d already accepted it. “I walk point. I go in first. That’s the job.”

“Then let someone else do it.”

I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over my jaw. “Will is my responsibility.”

That was the end of it.

She knew it, too. I could see it in the way her fingers curled into her palms, the way she looked at me like she wanted to reach across the counter and shake me. But she didn’t. She just swallowed hard and nodded.

After a moment, she asked, “What about the ransom?”

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the counter. “It’s covered.”

She studied me for a long second, like she was waiting for me to elaborate, but I didn’t.

After a moment, she let it go.

The day passed in a blur of final preparations.

The sun climbed higher, and still, there was no sign of the enemy. No new messages. No last-minute breaks. Just silence.

I went deeper into the mission, into the role that had been carved into me after years of leading teams into the unknown. I walked through the plan with my men, drilled them on every possible scenario, tested our communication lines, and ran through backup plans in case shit went south.

Because it always did.

I didn’t let myself think about Isabel.

Didn’t let myself think about what I was leaving behind.

Didn’t let myself think about what could have been.

When it was finally time to leave, I found Isabel in my room, waiting for me.

She stood near the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching me as I grabbed the armor I had set aside for her earlier. The chest plate, the reinforced straps.

I stepped toward her, lifting the vest.

She frowned. “That’s unnecessary.”

I didn’t answer. Just pulled the shirt over her head, my fingers brushing over her bare skin as I worked.

“Ryker—”

“It’s not up for discussion,” I said, tightening the straps into place.

She scowled, but she didn’t fight me.

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