Page 10

Holden

A s I replay the detail, my hands grip the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles are white.

The explosive was small and homemade but deadly enough to make my stomach twist. We caught it in time, but just barely. It was too fucking close.

I glance in the rearview mirror. Williams stares out the window, her posture rigid, her hands clasped in her lap. She hasn’t said a word since we left the school. Good. She shouldn’t be talking. She should be thinking and processing what went wrong. What she did wrong.

Park sits beside her, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Tate’s beside me, scrolling through his phone, but even his usual nonchalance feels forced.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Tate mutters, breaking the silence.

I don’t respond, keeping my focus on the road. Anger radiates off me in spades.

When we pull into the lot, I’m the first one out, my movements brisk. The others follow, their footsteps echoing behind me as we head inside for the debrief.

The debriefing room feels colder than usual, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Harris sits at the head of the table, flipping through his notes with his signature meticulousness.

“Let’s get right to it,” he says, his tone clipped. “Your first detail was successful. The president delivered the speech without incident, and the device was neutralized before it could cause harm. However...”

His gaze sweeps the room, landing on each of us in turn.

“There were lapses in protocol that could’ve been catastrophic. We’ll address those now.”

He starts with Park.

“Agent Park, the main entrance was your responsibility. Why wasn’t the area cleared thoroughly?”

Park shifts uncomfortably, the dark and silent confidence he usually wears like a second skin notably absent. “It was an oversight, sir. I missed it.”

Harris’s expression hardens. “Oversights are unacceptable. Be grateful today wasn’t worse.”

He turns to me next.

“Grant, you were supervising the sweep. What happened?”

“I take full responsibility,” I say evenly. “The device should have been caught sooner.”

Harris studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

Finally, his attention shifts to Williams.

Her shoulders straighten, and I see the flicker of defiance in her eyes even before she speaks.

“Agent Williams,” Harris says, his voice sharp but calm. “Your report states you followed procedure. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies, her tone steady but clipped.

“Then why didn’t you double-check the area?”

“With respect, sir,” she says, “the main entrance wasn’t my area of responsibility. My focus was on securing the perimeter.”

Her professional and calculated answer is a perfect cop-out. And it grates on me. I grit my teeth to keep from calling her out.

But I’m coming to realize things never go as planned with this woman.

“This isn’t about whose area was who,” I snap before Harris can respond. “It’s about anticipating problems before they happen.”

“Enough, Grant,” Harris says, raising a hand to cut me off. “We’ll address this further during tomorrow’s briefing. Dismissed.”

I catch up with her in the hallway, her stiff posture and quick pace telling me she’d prefer to avoid this conversation.

“Williams,” I call out.

She stops but doesn’t turn immediately. Her expression is guarded when she does, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Sir?”

I step closer, my voice low and clipped. “You need to do better.”

Her jaw tightens, but she holds her ground. “With all due respect, sir, I followed protocol.”

“Protocol isn’t enough,” I snap, taking another step closer. “You’re not here to check boxes. You’re here to anticipate and act before things go wrong.”

Her eyes blaze, but her voice stays calm. “I understand that. But Park was responsible for the sweep, and he missed it. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t matter,” I growl, the frustration bubbling over. “The moment you’re in the field, everything is your responsibility. No excuses. And we operate as a team . Do better to remember that the next time you think about saving your own ass.”

The tension between us crackles. Her gaze locks on mine, fire meeting ice. For a split second, I’m not sure if I want to shake some sense into her or...

Goddammit .

My eyes flick to her lips, and the thought is there before I can stop it. What the hell is wrong with me? This isn’t the time or place. Or ever, for that matter.

But the heat in her gaze only fuels the storm building in my chest. She’s too bold for her own good, too stubborn. Yet something about that stubbornness makes my blood run hotter.

She takes a step back, her voice quiet but firm. “It won’t happen again.”

I don’t know what to expect, but her conviction catches me off guard. She leaves me standing there as she turns and walks away, her back straight, her head held high.

I watch her go, anger simmering beneath the surface. I tell myself it’s because she was careless. Because she could’ve gotten us all killed. But the truth digs deeper. Anyone could’ve missed the device. I know that.

So why am I so angry?

The answer flickers at the edge of my mind, but I shove it down, burying it beneath years of discipline and control.

Later, back at my desk, the memory of the detail crashes over me again, dragging me further back.

The glint of metal beneath the bench. The soft beep of the device.

“Move!” I’d barked, pulling her back just in time. The adrenaline had burned hot, my instincts on overdrive. But it wasn’t just that.

It was Leo.

The flashback is instant, unrelenting. The dark alley. The metallic tang of blood in the air. The weight of his lifeless, battered body as I dragged it from the explosion.

“We can’t save everyone, Holden. But someone has to try.”

I’d tried that night. Tried and failed. And now, watching Williams stand her ground, chin lifted despite the firestorm in her eyes, I feel the same weight creeping in.

She has the same potential to get herself killed if she doesn’t open her eyes.

Because caution may keep you alive, but the second you hesitate, you’ll realize a second too late that it’s already too late.

I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Tate’s words from earlier echo in my head. “Maybe what she needs is a leader who has her back.”

I need to focus. On the job. On making sure this team doesn’t fall apart.

But as I glance at her name on the roster, the frustration twists into something else. A much darker emotion I’m too ashamed to admit.