Page 94 of Over the Edge

I reached for it, opened the flap staring at the thick stack of money.

My payment.

This meant I was officially done with Edge Ops.

Officially no longer Lyric’s partner.

My gut clenched and I tucked the envelope away in one of the pockets of my duffel.

“So where do you go from here?” Ethan asked. “Now that you’re staging a jailbreak from the hospital. Another job?”

Before Monte Carlo, before Lyric, the answer would have been automatic. Get the job done, collect the payment, move on to the next contract. No attachments, no commitments, no team depending on me—or me depending on them. Clean. Simple. Safe.

But now?

I had a few more jobs lined up, but I wasn’t sure I wanted them now.

No, I knew I didn’t want them.

I wanted Lyric.

But did she want me?

I busied myself with checking the contents of my duffel, buying time. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“No rush,” Ethan said, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m sure there are plenty of military contractors looking for someone with your skill set.”

I glanced up, trying to read his angle. This wasn’t just casual conversation. Ethan Voss didn’t do casual.

“What are you getting at, E?”

He shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Edge Ops could use someone like you.”

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When none came, I laughed, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through my side. “Jesus, Voss. Did you hit your head during the extraction? Last I checked, you and I weren’t exactly compatible colleagues.”

“People change,” he said simply. “Priorities shift. The work we do matters, Flynn. And you’re good at it. Better than most.”

“You want me on the team? Permanently?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You’re a good operator, Shepherd. One of the best I’ve worked with. Your tactical instincts are solid, and you think on your feet. The team respects you.” A short pause. “I respect you.”

Coming from Ethan, that last bit was practically a ringing endorsement with fireworks and a parade. I turned away, oddly unsettled by the sincerity in his voice.

“I work alone,” I said, the words automatic, a defense mechanism I’d relied on for years. “Always have.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Ethan’s question was mild, but it hit like a sucker punch. “If the team hadn’t been there?—”

“I know.” I cut him off, not needing the reminder of how close I’d come to dying on that helicopter. How Nolan’s piloting skills and Alistair’s medical expertise had pulled me back from the edge. How Lyric’s voice had anchored me to this world when everything else was fading to black.

Lyric. There it was—the real complication. The real reason I was hesitating instead of giving Ethan my usual speech about preferring to work alone. Because joining Edge Ops wouldn’t just mean becoming part of a team. It would mean seeing her every day. Working alongside her.

It would mean admitting that she’d changed something fundamental in me, something I’d thought was permanently broken after Yemen.

“Let me think about it,” I said finally, the words inadequate for the storm of conflicting impulses raging inside me.

Ethan watched me, his eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts. “Fair enough.”

I zipped the duffel closed with a finality that felt symbolic, though of what, I wasn’t sure. Then I slung it over my shoulder, wincing at the pull on my stitches.

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