Don’t care.
“This isn’t a courtroom, Poppy, where the bad guys are led in unarmed and cuffed, and the most dangerous thing you face is a bad objection.”
I step in again, so close now I can feel the edge of her fury heat the air between us.
“In field ops, the bad guys don’t wait to be read their rights. They hide in closets with guns. They shoot the first damn shadow that moves. You would’ve been the first thing through that door.”
She lifts her chin. Proud, defiant and so fucking maddening.
“I wasn’t unarmed. I had a brain. And maybe a little instinct that paid off.”
“You were fucking curious, Poppy.”
Her nostrils flare, and her voice drops into a dangerous calm. “You know what I see when I look around, Blackwood? I see victims. Alive. Because I followed a hunch. Because I moved. We would have left them trapped in there until they starved to death.”
“And you think I don’t care about that?” I snap.
“You think I don’t want them out? That I didn’t come here to find them? I’ve spent months trying to crack this case wide enough to breathe through it, and you come in and make a reckless move that could’ve ended in a body bag—and not theirs.”
A beat of silence hangs between us, heavy and tight.
Then I say what I mean to say.
“You could have gotten yourself or one of the officers shot. And I would be the one that has to go tell their family they aren’t coming home.”
The words are quiet. Honest and raw.
“Who would that be for you, huh? Mom and Dad? A sister? A brother?”
Her expression falters—just a flicker—but it’s enough.
She knows it’s real.
I see it land.
See it unsettle her just like it unsettles me.
But I don’t let the moment linger.
I straighten.
Rein it back in.
Lock it down.
“You want to be part of this? Fine. But if you’re going to be in the field, you followmyorders.
You listen. Or you will stay behind next time.”
Final word.
No room for debate.
She opens her mouth to argue—and thinks better of it.
Smart girl.
Wrong fucking battleground.