Page 76 of Echo: Line
"Now that we've established trust," Kane continues, pulling up the tactical display, "let's talk about how we use Delaney's expertise to plan our assault on Committee leadership. We have intel from Alex's interrogation, Cross's information about the Denver operation, and forty-eight hours before the Committee leadership meets. That's our window to strike."
"Infiltrate, extract evidence, expose publicly," Stryker says. "Three-phase operation with multiple contingencies."
"Exactly." Kane looks at me. "Delaney, your role is evidence collection and federal prosecution prep. If we survive this, we need documentation that'll hold up in court. Can you do that while managing combat stress?"
"I've documented evidence under hostile conditions before," I say. "Not quite at this level, but the principles are the same. Chain of custody, proper photography, witness statements, everything time-stamped and verified."
"Good. Because we're not just gathering intel—we're building a case that exposes the entire Committee structure. We need it airtight."
Sarah approaches after the briefing concludes, her expression thoughtful. "You're sure about this?" she asks quietly. "About getting involved with Alex? About all of it?"
"More sure than I've been about anything," I say honestly.
"He's..." Sarah pauses, choosing words carefully. "He's good at keeping people alive. But he's not good at keeping people close. Easier for him to work alone, to not care, to treat every mission like a mathematical equation without emotional variables."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
"I'm okay with him," I say. "However he comes. With all the emotional distance and tactical precision and walls he's built to survive. I'm not trying to fix him or change him. I'm just... here. If he wants me here."
Sarah's smile is sad and knowing. "He wants you here. That's what scares him. Because people he wants tend to die in this line of work."
"Then we don't die," I say simply. "We finish the mission and we survive and we figure out what comes next when we're not being hunted by a shadow conspiracy."
"That simple?"
"That complicated."
She laughs, the sound surprisingly warm. "You'll fit in here just fine."
Alex finds me later, after the planning session ends and most of the team has dispersed to prep gear or catch sleep before the operation. We’re on the roof of the safe house—the only outdoor space that's both secure and private, accessed through a maintenance hatch that regular people might not even know exists.
The Montana sky stretches above us, stars sharp and cold in the winter night. The air bites exposed skin, but it's clean and clear after hours in the operations center's recycled atmosphere.
"You gave up everything for this," Alex says without preamble. "For me."
"I gave up a lie for the truth," I correct, echoing my earlier words. "Big difference."
"Is it?" He's not looking at me, staring instead at distant mountain peaks. "You were forced to give up your career. Yourreputation. Your entire life built over eight years. That's not nothing."
"It's not everything either." On the roof, I position myself close enough to feel his warmth. "The career was built on cases that made me complicit in the Committee's operations whether I knew it or not. The reputation was based on profiling skills they manipulated for their own ends. The life I thought I had was an illusion constructed around systematic murder disguised as law enforcement."
"You could have walked away. Could have disappeared. Started over somewhere they'd never find you."
"Could have. Didn't want to." I turn to face him, making him look at me. "You asked me earlier if I was sure. I'm asking you the same thing. Are you sure about this? About me being here? About this thing between us?"
His jaw tightens, that muscle ticking near his ear that signals internal conflict. "Nothing about this is sure. We're planning an assault on a shadow conspiracy that controls most of the federal government. Our survival odds are low. Our chances of exposing them without being killed are lower. And the possibility that we both make it through this alive is..."
"Not zero," I finish. "Low doesn't mean impossible."
"Delaney..."
"No." I cut him off. "Don't give me the speech about how caring about people gets them killed. Don't tell me I should keep my distance for my own safety. Don't treat what's happening between us like it's a tactical liability instead of..." I pause, finding the right words. "Instead of the one thing keeping us human while we do impossible things."
"It is a liability," he says, but his hand comes up to cup my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. "Everything I care about becomes a target. Everyone I let close becomes vulnerable."
"Then we make ourselves hard targets. We train, we prepare, we watch each other's backs. But we don't pretend we don't care just because caring is dangerous."
