Page 24 of Protect Thy Enemy

I resist the urge to say that this isn’t my job either. My debt to Harris, to Leo, appears to be way more complicated than I imagined.

I exhale through my nose, refusing to confirm or deny anything. He knows exactly how to get a reaction out of me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, I push off the wall, straightening. “Harris wants them ready for the field. Hesitation in the field gets people killed.”

Tate smirks. “And you’re just the man to make sure they don’t hesitate, right?”

I don’t answer. It’s not a question that needs a response.

I find myself in the training facility an hour later, watching from the observation deck as the rookies spar with one another. Williams moves with precision, her form solid.

On the surface, she’s everything Harris expects from someone on this team.

But I can still see those cracks. The brief pauses in her steps, the flickers of doubt she tries to mask with bravado. She’s good, better than most, I’ll give her that. But she’s not unshakable.

And unshakable is what’s needed.

I lean against the railing, my eyes narrowing as she counters Park’s attack with a clean block and a swift jab to his ribs. He staggers back, laughing despite the hit, his words lost to the soundproof glass.

There’s an ease to her interactions with him, a camaraderie that reminds me of a time before all of this, before the weight of responsibility turned every connection into a liability.

She’s young, determined, and smart enough to make me question why her hesitation bothers me so much.

I can’t help watching her. The way she paces, the slight twitch in her fingers when she thinks no one’s looking. It’s not nerves. It’s something deeper. I’ve seen countless agents crack under the pressure of these drills before, but this is different.

It’s the same look I saw on Leo’s face years ago, just before he defied protocol and ran headfirst into the fire. Back then, I didn’t understand how someone could carry that much and still move forward. Now, I wonder if Arden even knows she’s carrying it.

I’ve spent years trying to outrun ghosts like hers. Seeing her now feels like I’m getting closer and closer to looking into that mirror I’ve worked hard to avoid.

“Grant.” Harris’s voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back.

I straighten, turning to face him.

“They’re making progress,” he says, nodding toward the floor below. “Williams is holding her own.”

“Progress isn’t enough,” I reply.

Harris raises an eyebrow. “You sound like you’ve already written her off.”

I don’t respond immediately, my gaze shifting back to the floor. Williams lands another hit on Park, her focus unwavering.

“She’s good,” I admit finally. “But good isn’t enough. Not for what you say you’re building here.”

Harris chuckles softly. “You’ve got a funny way of showing your encouragement.”

“Encouragement doesn’t keep people alive,” I counter firmly. “Preparation does.”

He nods, his expression unreadable. “Just don’t break her before she gets a chance to prove you wrong.”

Later, as I’m leaving the facility, I cross paths with Williams in the hallway. She’s heading toward the locker room, her hair damp from sweat, her jaw set in that stubborn way that’s quickly becoming familiar.

“Williams,” I say, stopping in my tracks.

She glances up, her expression guarded. “Agent Grant.”

I study her for a moment, the sweat coating her forehead. The way her chest rises up and down. “Do better tomorrow.”

Her eyes widen slightly, the faintest flicker of indignation breaking through her cool exterior.

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