The A.R.G.U.S. operations room was nearly empty by the time you walked in. Monitors hummed. Files lay scattered across Harcourt’s desk. The overhead lights were dim, but she was still there—leaned over a stack of reports, hair tied back, eyes sharp even at this late hour.

She didn’t look up when she spoke. “You’re late.”

You smirked. “I grabbed us coffee. That earns me at least five minutes of forgiveness.”

Harcourt finally glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “You think caffeine buys mercy?”

“With you? Maybe.”

Despite herself, she almost smiled. Almost.

You set the coffee down beside her and noticed the file she was reading—its cover stamped with a bold red classification: LEVEL 7: RESTRICTED.

You paused. “You’re not supposed to have that out in the open.”

“I’m not,” she said flatly.

“So why—?”

“Because you’re going to read it.”

You blinked. Emilia Harcourt didn’t just hand out classified intel. She didn’t trust easily. She didn’t trust anyone except maybe Economos on a good day. And you… well, you’d been working with her for three months. Long enough to respect her. Long enough to care.

But this? This was different.

“Harcourt… are you sure?”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, her expression unreadable. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

You swallowed. “Why me?”

She hesitated—something rare for her. She tapped the file once, fingertips tense. “Because I need someone I can rely on. Someone who won’t compromise. Someone who won’t run their mouth to Waller or Peacemaker or anyone else.” Her gaze softened just barely. “And because you’re the only person I trust enough to know what’s in here.”

Your heart tugged at that word—trust. From her, it meant something real. Heavy.

You sat beside her. “Alright. Show me.”

She slid the file toward you. “Before you open it—listen.”

You looked up at her.

“This intel compromises me. It compromises the team. And if it gets into the wrong hands, people die. I’m giving you this because I believe you won’t let that happen.”

You held her gaze. “I won’t. Not ever.”

Her shoulders relaxed by a fraction. “Good.”

You opened the file carefully. Classified mission notes. Operative backgrounds. Hidden connections. Things Waller definitely didn’t want exposed. As you read, Harcourt watched you—not suspiciously, not guarded.

Protectively.

After a moment, you closed the file and exhaled. “This is big, Emilia.”

“Bigger than you know.”

“And you’re trusting me with it?”

She nodded slowly. “I’m trusting you with me.”

Your breath stilled.

She stood, moving closer, voice low. “Don’t make me regret it.”