You and Steve stumble back into the DEA HQ, both of you covered in blood. It’s all over your clothes, your hands, and you can feel it on your skin, sticky and cold. The air is thick with the chaos of what just went down. Steve’s face is pale, eyes wide, but there’s a quiet rage simmering beneath the surface. You both barely exchanged a word on the ride back. As you walk in, you see Javi standing there, looking like he was expecting you, but even he doesn’t look prepared for what he sees. His eyes scan you both, taking in the blood, the exhaustion, the shock that’s still holding you like a vice.

“Jesus Christ,” Javi mutters, voice low. “What the hell happened out there?”

You don’t have the energy to answer, but Steve lets out a breath, shaking his head. “It got real messy, Javi. Real messy. We lost more than we gained.” His voice is rough, like it’s too heavy for him to even speak.

Javi’s jaw clenches. He knows exactly what that means.

“Go sit down. I’ll get you cleaned up.” He doesn’t wait for a response as he turns to grab some towels. You know that look on his face—he’s trying to keep it together, but deep down, he’s pissed.