Page 36 of Protect Thy Enemy

“What the hell were you thinking?” he growls, his hand closing over my wrist as he hauls me to my feet after handcuffing the man on the ground.

His eyes blaze, cold and unrelenting as they cut back to mine.

I carefully hold up the detonator, my voice calm despite the pounding in my chest. “He had this.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at the device. His gaze stays on me, sharp and dissecting. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

“And I stopped a potential attack,” I fire back, matching his intensity.

For a moment, we stand there, locked in a silent battle of wills. His firm grip on my wrist is almost bruising, but I refuse to flinch.

Finally, he releases me, the tension crackling between us like the detonator in his hand. “Get back to your position.” He taps the side of his own comms to probably signal for backup.

I wait a second, but he doesn’t glance in my direction again. I turn to return to my post, his disapproval heavy in the air. I should feel bad, but I can’t bring myself to regret what I did.

Knowing I made the call and that I’d do it again.

My pulse continues to pound in my ears, but I force myself to focus on the scene in front of me.

Park steps into view, silent as ever, his dark eyes taking in where Holden stood before flicking to where the suspect was being dragged away. He says nothing, but his presence carries a weight that forces me to acknowledge him..

“What?” I ask, still catching my breath, though my voice comes out sharper than intended.

He doesn’t answer immediately. He just shifts his gaze to me, cold and assessing. It’s like he’s peeling back layers, trying to read something I’m not ready to share. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured.

“Reckless.”

One word. That’s all. But the way he says it, like a blade slicing through the tension, makes me bristle.

“I did what needed to be done,” I snap.

Park doesn’t flinch, his expression unreadable. He steps closer, his movements calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re lucky.”

The words send a chill down my spine, but I hold his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “It wasn’t luck. It was training.”

His lip curls, just slightly, like he’s about to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns away, his silence heavier than any lecture.

“He,” he says over his shoulder, his tone sharp enough to leave a mark, “won’t see it that way.”

With that, he walks off, his figure dissolving into the shadows of the corridor.

By the time the event winds down, my muscles ache with exhaustion. The adrenaline crash leaves me hollowed out, every footstep heavier than the last as I follow the corridor leading to the debriefing room.

I barely have time to catch my breath before the door swings open, and Grant steps inside.

The room feels smaller with him in it, the air heavier. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans against the table, arms crossed, his piercing gaze pinning me in place.

“You ignored a direct order,” he says finally.

“And I stopped a threat,” I counter, refusing to back down.

His lips press into a thin line, but his eyes remain unyielding. “You don’t get to decide when to break protocol, Williams. This isn’t a game. Every move you make affectseveryonearound you.”

I step forward, the heat of frustration bubbling under my skin. “If I hadn’t acted, we’d be dealing with a hell of a lot worse right now. I made the right call.”

“The right call?” he repeats, his tone cutting. “You got lucky. And luck won’t save you or anyone else when things really go south.”

The weight of his words hits hard, but I keep my gaze steady. “I didn’t join this agency to play it safe. I’m here to make a difference.”

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