Lila looks up from her laptop across the room. “Listen to him, Ki. You look like a zombie. “She offers a tired half-smile. “A hot zombie, but still.”
“I don't need…” Kiera starts.
“That wasn't a request,” I say, my voice dropping into the tone that makes grown men reconsider their life choices—the one I use on jobs when negotiation is over. "You're going to lie down for four hours. If you can't sleep, you're at least going to close your eyes and let your brain stop running at a thousand miles per hour.”
She glares at me, eyes flashing with exhausted defiance. "You can't just order me around."
"Watch me," I say. Before she can argue, I throw her over my shoulder in one smooth motion and head toward the back room where we've set up makeshift sleeping quarters.
She claws at my back, half-heartedly and exhausted. "Sterling, I'm serious. Put me down. I need to…"
"What you need," I interrupt, turning her to face me, "is to not collapse in the middle of a firefight because you're too fucking stubborn to admit you're human." My hands come up to frame her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, forcing her to look at me. "I need you sharp tonight. Not half-dead on your feet. Not making mistakes because your brain is too fried to process threats." Something in her expression cracks. The fight drains out of her shoulders.
"I can't stop thinking," she admits quietly. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Wade's body. My childhood home on fire. My mom's face onthat screen. The corrupted data where my pairing should be. If I stop moving…if I let myself think about it all…"
"You'll fall apart," I finish, pulling her closer.
"Yeah," she whispers, the single word heavy with reluctant surrender.
I press my forehead to hers. "Then fall apart. You've earned it. But do it somewhere soft where I can put you back together after."
Her laugh is broken, watery. "You can't fix this."
"No," I agree, my voice low and steady against her temple. "But I can hold you while you break. And I can make sure you don't have to do it alone." She stands there against me for a moment, then finally nods.
I guide her to the back room. It's not much—a mattress on the floor, a pillow, a blanket that's seen better days. But it's dark, quiet, and far away from the monitors, the files, and the constant reminder of what we're about to walk into. Kiera sits on the edge of the mattress, her movements mechanical and slow. She tries to take off her boots, but her hands are shaking too badly to manage the laces. "Let me," I say, kneeling in front of her.
I unlace her boots carefully and set them aside. She watches me with heavy, exhausted eyes, too tired to protest the help. When I reach for the blanket, she catches my wrist. "Stay," she says. Not a question. A plea. I kick off my own boots and lie down beside her, pulling the blanket over us both. She curls into my side immediately, her head finding the hollow of my shoulder like it was made to fit there. Her breathing is already starting to even out, exhaustion finally winning the war against adrenaline. I hold her, feeling the tension slowly drain from her body assleep pulls her under. My phone buzzes. I pull it out carefully, trying not to wake her.
Cam: You get her to sleep?
Me: Yeah. Don't wake her
unless the building is on fire.
Cam: Copy. Lila's mapping the perimeter
surveillance. I'm working on a loop for
their security feeds.
Me: Good. What about the
guard schedule?
Cam: Shifts change at 2300 and 0300.
We hit them at 0001, right after midnight.
New guards will still be getting their bearings.
Old guards will be mentally checking out.
Me: Perfect. Send me the
full breakdown when you
have it.