Page 74 of Dagger

He caught her staring and smiled.

Just the smallest flicker, that half-smirk she hadn’t seen in years. It was nothing and everything, a glint of mischief tucked inside a war machine.

It wrecked her.

Flash swung the door open with a wink. “After you, ma’am.”

She climbed in, her pulse still skipping erratically, her skin too tight, too aware.

The vehicle doors slammed shut with a thud, sealing them in.

The ride to the embassy was swift, the silence in the cabin thick and purposeful. Quinn sat between Dagger and Twister, and even though no one spoke, the weight of their presence was felt in every inch of the space. The low murmur of comms, the metallic scent of steel and Kevlar, the creak of loaded gear shifting with each jolt of the road, it was an orchestra of tension, of readiness.

But beside her, Dagger was pure stillness.

He held his rifle across his lap, fingers resting lightly on the grip, eyes scanning the window like nothing could ever take him by surprise. Not fear. Not chaos. Not even her.

She stole another glance at him at the sharp angles of his face, the faded scar at his temple, the glint of his dog tags catching the filtered sunlight and something inside her twisted.

This wasn’t the man she’d once blamed.

This was the man who’d held her sons like they were his own. The man who carried guilt like a shadow but never let it slowhim. The man who watched everything, protected everyone, and never asked for credit.

Her fingers curled around her bag, grounding herself.

She didn’t feel like a failure anymore.

She didn’t feel like a fraud, either.

There was still pain, of course there was, but it wasn’t the drowning kind. It was the kind that lived beside strength. The kind that could coexist with progress.

Outside the window, the city passed in a blur of contradiction, graffiti-stained walls, bright marketplaces, crumbling buildings framed by blooming flowers. A city surviving, enduring.

So was she. She wasn’t a ruin anymore. She was rebuilding, brick by brick, breath by breath. For the first time, she believed in her own foundation

He wasn’t her enemy. God help her. Heneverhad been…ever.

He was her anchor.

When the convoy rolled to a stop, the back door opened, and Quinn stepped down, boots crunching over gravel, heat pressing against her skin.

The moment she set foot on the ground, everything changed.

The SEALs fanned out in a flawless arc, no commands needed. Just motion, instinct, and silent precision. It was like watching a predator ballet, each man scanning, covering angles, protecting her without touching her.

She didn’t feel suffocated.

She felt protected.

Watched over.Safe.

For the first time in a very long time.

Her breath caught as she walked toward the construction site. The chaos from days earlier was gone. In its place, arhythmic hum of progress, machinery groaning, boots thudding, radios crackling.

But more than that, there was apresencenow. A steel net of protection wrapped around her world.

Gabe stepped out from the trailer, Piper trailing behind him. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of her armored entourage. He gave a slow smile. “You came back,” he said, voice warm. “That’s a good sign.” Then he glanced over her shoulder at the team dispersing across the site like shadows. “I think it’s safe to say… they’ve got us covered.”