Page 110 of Dose

“Why did you let him go alone?” Isla asks.

Nikolai does not take offense at the question.

“Because the contact protocol specified C-11 and one traveler. A visible partner would have killed the lead. Because Ezra submitted a viable plan with surveillance thresholds, abort conditions and recovery support. Because keeping him home by force would not make him safer the next time Marchant reached for him.”

“And if Marchant is at the end of it?”

“He does not approach. That is the condition.”

“You believe he’ll follow it?” I ask.

“I believe he chose the condition himself.” Nikolai’s jaw tightens. “I also know trauma can make intelligent people break their own rules. That is why Marcus is tracking him and Dominic is waiting.”

There is no comforting version. Only a plan built around the possibility that Ezra may cease to follow it.

“Twelve hours remain,” Nikolai says. “If he misses the final check, we recover him. If either tracker fails, we recover him. If he enters a fixed location without the agreed signal, we recover him.”

“And if Marchant hurts him?” Isla asks.

Something cold moves through Nikolai’s face.

“Then recovery becomes the first objective. Marchant becomes the second.”

He does not need to describe the second objective.

Back in our quarters, Isla curls against my chest. Neither of us pretends we will sleep soon.

“Do you think he’ll follow the abort condition if he sees her?” she asks.

“I think he intends to.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“No.” I stare into the dark. “I don’t know what ten-year-old Ezra will do if she knows how to reach him.”

Isla’s palm settles over my sternum.

“He isn’t ten anymore.”

“No. But neither are we, and Korte can still put both of us back in old rooms without touching us.”

Her body goes still against mine.

I kiss the top of her head. “He’s not unprotected. Whatever happens, he isn’t alone.”

We lie beneath the familiar hum of the ventilation while the countdown runs on my phone.

Eleven hours, forty-two minutes.

Isla’s breathing eventually settles into its four-count rhythm.

I keep watching the numbers.

30

ISLA

The Seattle hub is uglier in person.