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The elevator dinged at their floor.
When the doors opened, she just walked out. Head high. Shoulders back. But he saw the tremble in her hand when she swiped her badge.
The annex was quiet. Fluorescents buzzed overhead. Terminals blinked on standby. Grace headed straight for the main panel, her fingers flying across the touchpad with practiced ease.
Nash hung back, giving her space. Watching her slide into her element like a blade into a sheath.
This is where she belonged,he thought.Not buried in audits. Not hunted by ghosts. Here. In the code. In control.
Later, they stopped at the breakroom, not the full mess. That was down on the main floor. Grace needed caffeine. Nash just wanted proximity. He watched her set up with a mug of coffee and her laptop at a small table near the vending machines.
“Want something?”
“Plain chips,” she said. He walked over to grab her snack, cash already in hand. Inserted the dollar. The machine whirred and then spit out every single bag of chips except the one she’d asked for.
Nash blinked.
“Okay…” he muttered. “That’s weird.”
Grace’s head lifted. Her eyes narrowed. “What the hell—" she said quietly. “That’s strange.”
He stared at her. “Malfunction?”
“Could be, but the only bag of chips left in the machine is the one I wanted. Maybe a pranking joke?”
Nash ran a hand down his jaw, unnerved despite himself.
The lights above the machine flickered once, then held steady.
He dropped the extra bags on the counter and returned to her table, sitting across from her.
He should’ve let it drop. Should’ve kept the moment light. “Why did you change your mind?” he asked.
She looked up and said, softly, “You really want to know?”
Nash nodded once.
“There was a picture of you… and your team in your file,” she whispered. “Riggs, Marroquin, Kobayoshi, Stone, DeLeon, Klein, and Milner.”
He froze.
“Riggs left behind his wife and two daughters. Marroquin was getting married to his high school sweetheart.” Her voice wavered. “Kento ‘Superman’ Kobayoshi is still missing. Presumed dead.”
She reached across the table, barely a touch. Just the soft brush of her hand against his. But it burned.
“That’s what I got out of your file.”
Nash swallowed hard. His chest ached. His hand curled beneath hers, thumb brushing along the edge of her palm.
He wasn’t the only one haunted.
When they walked out together after their shift, the sky had gone flat gray. Snow still drifted in wide, lazy spirals, softening the world into something too quiet to trust.
He didn’t say anything as they crossed to the car. Let her settle in first. Let the silence stretch. The kind that hopefully reassured her that when he asked a question, it wasn’t small talk.
He barely breathed when she reached for her seatbelt and clipped it into place. A simple act. A declaration.
She was still here.