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“Out,” I echo. “That’s all I get?”

Gideon glances over his shoulder. “He’ll be back.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It wasn’t meant to.”

I fold my arms. “I’m not a civilian in this. You all need me, remember?”

“We do.” He nods toward the plate. “Want a cookie?”

“I want answers," I say taking a spoonful of cookie dough. Delicious.

Gideon just arches an eyebrow and returns to arranging the second batch of cookies on the baking sheet. I don't remember owning cookie sheets or a fancy stand mixer for that matter.

"Sutton," he says after a beat, tone low but firm, "I know you’re smart. But sometimes, knowing everything isn’t the safest choice."

"Don’t be condescending," I snap, taking another spoonful of dough. "I’ve spent the last few years untangling embezzlement schemes and laundering fronts for oil companies. Damn this is really good."

"It's better and healthier baked."

"I don't care. I like the dough better."

Gideon chuckles. "So does Deacon."

"So Gideon, what's going on? Do you think I can’t handle a little black-ops drama?"

"This isn’t black-ops drama." His gaze sharpens. "It’s deeper and older than anything you’ve read in a report."

"And still no straight answers," I mutter, folding my arms. "You sound like Deacon now—cryptic and growly."

He actually cracks a smile. Just barely. "Maybe because he knows what’s coming. And maybe he’s trying to shield you from it."

"Too late," I say quietly. "I’m already in it. Look, I get it." I step closer, but trying to physically intimidate a guy Gideon's size is an exercise in futility. "You guys live in some classified,hush-hush world, but I'm not an idiot. Something’s off. And it’s more than just Deacon being a walking, growling storm cloud."

Gideon sighs, scraping a cookie off the tray. "It’s not that simple. You think it’s all shadow ops and encrypted files, but what we deal with... Like I said, it’s older than that. Deeper. It gets into your blood, your bones. Changes how you see the world."

"Nothing is ever simple. But I deserve to know what kind of mess I’ve been dragged into. What I’m risking my neck for. Is or was Sookie part of whatever this is? This thing with you and Deacon."

Gideon shakes his head. "I don't know." He sets the spatula down and looks at me—really looks at me—searching my face. "You’re risking more than your neck, Sutton. You just don’t know it yet."

That pulls me up short. The air between us stretches tight, heat prickling beneath my skin—not fear exactly, but something close. A flicker of realization that whatever Gideon’s holding back, it’s big. Bigger than me. Bigger than even Deacon. And maybe I’ve just stepped into something I’ll never be able to step out of again.

I glance at Gideon, every instinct urging me to push harder, demand answers, scream if I have to. But something in his eyes stops me—a flicker of real concern, of protective hesitation. He’s not being cruel. He’s guarding something, someone. Maybe even me. And somewhere deep down, past the chaos and rising questions, I know one thing with bone-deep certainty.

I know I can trust Deacon and the rest of his team, even if I don’t understand why yet.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"No," he says quietly. "It’s supposed to make you careful. Because once you know the truth, there’s no going back."

My jaw tightens. He thinks he can deflect me with baked goods and stoic silence? Not a chance. I’m done playing along.

I take another spoonful of cookie dough, defiantly licking it off the spoon while staring him down. Gideon doesn’t flinch. Instead, he scoops a small mound of dough and offers it to me with a shrug.

"Figured you might want one more before you go full rebel."

I take it without breaking eye contact. "I’m already there."