Page 81 of Duty Devoted
Ethan cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “Now that we’re all here, let’s continue.”
The look Ty shot Ethan might as well have been a neon sign sayingSee? Told you he’d show up looking like death. Jace made a similar expression, subtle but there.
My jaw tightened. They’d been talking about me. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“As I was saying,” Ethan continued, sliding a tablet across the table, “we’ve got three potential contracts on deck. The journalist extraction in Bangladesh looks like it might resolve diplomatically, but we’re keeping an eye on it.”
Words washed over me without sticking. Something about a corporate executive in Mexico City. Security assessment for an embassy that had recent threats. Normal shit. The kind of missions that used to light me up, get my blood moving.
Now, it all sounded like white noise.
My mind drifted to my recent missions, body on autopilot while Ethan outlined logistics of future ones. Somalia, hunting down leads on a kidnapped aid worker. Before that, Ukraine. Before that… Christ, I couldn’t even remember. The missions blurred together.
When was the last time I’d eaten something that didn’t come from a ration pack? The thought surfaced uninvited, dragging another with it. The last real meal someone had made for me was juane wrapped in bijao leaves, still warm from?—
No.
I shut that down hard, clenching my fist under the table. Eight weeks of practice had taught me exactly how fast those thoughts could spiral. Think about the food, then Elena’s gap-toothed grin, then the clinic, then green eyes and honey-blonde hair and?—
“Logan?”
I blinked. Four faces stared at me, waiting.
“Sorry. What?”
“I asked about your availability.” Ethan’s tone stayed neutral, but I caught the concern underneath. “For upcoming missions. I’m sure you want to take a little time off.”
“First available international slot.” The words came automatically. “Sooner, the better.”
The room went still.
“That would be your seventh consecutive deployment without a break.” Jace finally looked up from his laptop, blue eyes sharp behind his glasses. “In two months.”
“So?”
“So that’s not sustainable.” Ty leaned forward, all traces of humor gone. “It’s not even human.”
“It’s my job.”
“No.” Ethan’s voice carried that particular note of command. “Your job includes operational readiness. Rest. Recovery. Not grinding yourself into dust playing action hero.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Jace snapped his laptop shut. “You’re trying to commit suicide by mission, and we’re not going to enable it anymore.”
Holy fuck. The words hung in the air like a flash-bang.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard him.” Ethan stood, hands flat on the table. “Seven deployments, Logan. Back-to-back. No breaks, no downtime, just jumping from one firefight to the next like you’re trying to catch a bullet with your name on it.”
“That’s bullshit.” I shoved back from the table, ready to walk. “I’m doing my job. Sorry if that makes you all uncomfortable sitting here in your climate-controlled?—”
“Don’t.” Ty’s voice cut through my building tirade, all traces of his normal jovial tone gone. “Don’t pull that field versus support shit. We’ve all been there. We all rotate out to rest properly between fieldwork. You don’t. We all know what you’re doing.”
“Which is?”
“Hiding.” Jace’s quiet response hit harder than shouting would have. “You’ve been in perpetual motion since Puerto Rico.”
