Slade didn’t believe in convenient timing.

If something could go wrong, it would—and usually at the worst possible moment.

Which was why this was happening now.

Mid-contract. Half a city away from the extraction point. Target still breathing, time window closing, and the safe house nowhere close enough to be useful.

Slade closed the door to the small, abandoned office behind them, already scanning the room once out of habit before turning his attention back to her.

His jaw tightened slightly, more in annoyance at the situation than at her.

“Course it’s now,” he muttered.

He set his rifle carefully against the wall, movements controlled and precise even now, like he was handling any other piece of critical equipment.

“Alright,” he said, voice dropping into that calm, command tone he used in the field. “We deal with it, then we finish the job.”

He stepped closer, one hand coming up to the side of her neck, thumb resting just under her jaw, steadying her when her breathing hitched.

“Focus,” he said quietly. “Breathe. Stay with me.”

A pause, his eye locked on her face, making sure she was actually listening.

“This doesn’t stop the mission,” he continued, voice low and certain. “It just delays it five minutes.”

His grip tightened slightly—grounding, not rough.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said.

Not romantic.

Not soft.

Just a statement.

Then, after a beat—

“Then we get back to work.”