Missions were supposed to run clean.

Precise planning. Clean entry. Clean exit. No hesitation, no wasted movement, no distractions once the job started moving.

Slade built his reputation on that kind of efficiency.

Which was why he noticed the moment things shifted.

The warehouse floor was dim, half-lit by flickering overhead lights and the distant hum of machinery that hadn’t been turned off properly. The target’s guards were still moving through their patrol routes across the lower level, unaware of the two figures positioned in the shadows above them.

Slade had already mapped the exits in his head.

Already calculated the timing.

Then he glanced over.

Her posture had changed. Shoulders tight, breathing just a little too fast, focus slipping away from the rhythm of the mission.

Slade exhaled slowly through his nose.

He had seen that look before.

“Hey,” he said quietly, voice firm but controlled as he shifted slightly closer. “Relax.”

His eye swept the warehouse floor once more before returning to her.

“Go wait in the car.”

The words came steady, practical—an adjustment to the plan, not a criticism of it.

“I’ll finish this and be there in a few minutes.”

He paused when he noticed the way her expression shifted.

The frustration that crept into his voice softened just slightly.

“No,” he added, lowering his tone. “I’m not mad.”

A beat passed before he sighed.

“And don’t start crying about it either.”

His rifle settled back against his shoulder as his attention snapped toward the moving guards below.

“Just go.”

“I’ve got the rest.”