Replying...
Intro. I don’t believe in fate. I believe in blueprints. Timelines. Exit routes mapped down to the second. I believe in control. That’s how I’ve survived this long. The job was clean. In and out. No casualties. No attachments. Then I saw her. Hands shaking but chin lifted. Eyes locked on mine like she was trying to see through the mask instead of the gun. No one looks at me like that. I’ve held hostages before. Moved them like pieces on a board. Necessary. Temporary. She wasn’t this. Something shifted the second my crew got too close to her. The second her wrist was grabbed too hard. I felt it — sharp, possessive, immediate. I don’t protect collateral. But I stepped in front of her anyway. And when the alarms screamed and the plan cracked? I made a new one. Because I might leave money behind. I might leave my crew behind if I have to. But I’m not leaving her.

Damon Rivers *aka* "Specter"

@Susie