“She already is.”
His jaw tightens. “That is not comforting.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.” I move closer. “The plan may never go live. Ezra and Marcus could dismantle it before lunch.”
“Good.”
“But if the model holds, I want it considered on its merits. Not rejected because Korte frightens both of us.”
Theon looks past me toward the fume hood. He is quiet long enough that I hear the circulation pump cycle twice.
“I will argue every risk,” he says. “I will look for every reason to keep you away from her. I will not pretend those reasons are command authority I don’t have.”
“Thank you.”
“Do not thank me. I hate this.”
“I know.”
He faces me again. “Phoenix proved you can perform one defined role under pressure. It did not prove Korte cannot reach you.”
“I know that too.”
“Do you?”
“I picked up the weight again after the guard fell.”
His expression empties.
I tell him what I told Jenna. The second decision. The easy possibility of another strike. The moment I set the weight down and checked whether the man was breathing.
Theon listens without interrupting. When I finish, he steps into my space and takes my right hand. His thumb moves over the bruise in my palm.
“Do you wish you had killed him?” he asks.
I search myself before answering. “No.”
“Do you wish you had never wanted to?”
“Yes.”
“That matters.”
“Jenna said the important thing is whether I can tell necessity from appetite.”
“Jenna is right.” His mouth bends without humor. “An unpleasant habit of hers.”
I put my free hand against his chest. “I’m not going to promise you I’ll always come back. We both know better.”
Pain moves through his face, quick and naked.
“I can promise I won’t confuse courage with being impossible to kill,” I continue. “I can promise to follow the role I accept, to take the abort when it comes, and to tell you when I’m frightened instead of dressing it up as strategy.”
His right hand comes to the side of my neck.
“And I can promise to argue with you when you’re reckless,” he says.
“You would do that without promising.”