Matthew stepped forward, moving with the same careful precision he used with patients who might bolt. He set a fresh cup of coffee beside my untouched one, the gentle placement at odds with the tension radiating from him.
"You could've told us,"he said, quiet but firm.
"Told you what?"I muttered, still staring at the article.
Michael let out a sharp breath and braced his hands on the table, leaning in."The rest of the story. Like why Walsh pulled you from active response. Or why Sarah's team is all over your truck."
I clenched my jaw, eyes locked on the ripples in my coffee. "It's procedure."My voice was flat."Nothing to discuss."
A short, humorless laugh erupted from Michael."Nothing to discuss? Are you fucking serious? Someone tampered with your regulator, Marcus. You could've died.
Matthew shifted his weight, rubbing a hand over his jaw."That's not procedure. That's personal. And you damn well know it."
Anger started to roll off Michael, a storm brewing beneath the surface. He straightened, raking a hand through his hair."Do you even hear yourself? Someone is trying to kill you, and you're sitting here acting like it's just another day on shift."
I shrugged."If they wanted me dead, they'd have done it already."
Michael's body went rigid, and I knew I'd crossed a line. His voice was sharp, a blade honed by years of SWAT training, of seeing good people end up in body bags. He took a step closer,lowering his voice."Someone's hunting you, Marcus. It's a game to them. You know what happens next?"
I didn't answer. Michael slammed his coffee mug onto the table, liquid sloshing over the rim, pooling into the creases of my report.
The metal chair screeched against the concrete as I stood, something inside me snapping." What, Michael? Do they get scared? Do I walk away?"My voice cracked on the last word, betraying everything I was trying to bury.
Michael's jaw tightened."No."His hands curled into fists at his sides."Then you get fucking killed."
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
Matthew exhaled slowly, his posture shifting from medic to brother. His voice was calm and measured, but there was no mistaking the plea buried beneath it.
"Look, man. We're not saying roll over. We only want to help."
"I don't need help." It was a lie, and we all knew it.
Michael shook his head, letting out a slow, incredulous breath."You need to stop acting like you're fucking invincible."
His voice shifted lower but no less intense."Need to stop pretending this isn't getting to you. Walsh told me more details about the regulator. That's not—it's your air supply, Marcus. They got to itin the station. It's where you're supposed to be safe. You didn't tell us everything."
I looked away." Because it's my problem to handle."
Michael's expression hardened."Like Dad handled everything alone?"
I flinched.
"Like he pushed everyone away until—"
"Don't."
Michael's mouth tightened into a thin line, but he didn't back down."You're doing what he did. Running yourself intothe ground. Thinking if you push hard enough and train long enough, you can outrun what's coming."
He'd carefully planned the words to land hard. His voice dropped lower and quieter, but it hit harder than any shout."We're not going to watch another McCabe burn out trying to prove something."
I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. "I'm not trying to prove anything."
"Bullshit."
Matthew sighed, rubbing a hand over his face."Let us help, Marcus, before it's too late."
The walls were closing in. I needed air.
