From the other side of the glass, the man talks like he’s reciting facts. Flat. Self-satisfied. As if what he’s describing isn’t a week of terror but a series of reasonable choices that somehow just happened.

Nick keeps his voice even inside the room, patient in the way only years of interrogations can teach you. He lets the man talk. Lets him hang himself with his own words.

Outside, Olivia stands with her arms folded, eyes fixed on the suspect, every muscle tight. Finn is beside her, unreadable, but his jaw shifts each time the man opens his mouth. Amanda hovers just behind them, her expression sharp with fury she’s barely containing.

Rafael isn’t watching the suspect.

He’s watching her.

At first, she’s standing like she always does—shoulders squared, face composed, eyes forward. Too composed. Too still. The kind of stillness Rafael has learned to distrust.

The man inside shrugs and smiles, saying it was her fault. That she drank. That she stayed. That if she was hurt, it wasn’t his responsibility.

Rafael sees the moment it hits.

Her breathing changes—not faster, not louder. Just… wrong. Shallow. Controlled to the point of breaking. Her hands curl in on themselves at her sides, fingers tightening like she’s holding onto something invisible.

Her eyes lose focus.

She’s no longer looking through the glass. She’s looking past it.

Olivia notices the shift a second later—the way her posture tilts, the way she seems to withdraw without moving. Finn’s gaze follows, landing on her face, his expression hardening as recognition sets in. Amanda stiffens, anger giving way to concern.

But Rafael is already stepping closer.

He moves without drawing attention, positioning himself just enough to block her view of the interrogation room. He doesn’t touch her at first. He knows better than that.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t respond.

That doesn’t surprise him.

He lowers his voice further, steady and grounded, meant to cut through whatever memory has pulled her under. “You’re here. You’re safe. We’re right outside.”

His hand hovers near her arm—close enough to offer, far enough to give her control.

Olivia watches him out of the corner of her eye, recognizing the care in the gesture. Finn shifts, subtly closing the distance on her other side. Amanda takes a step nearer too, a silent show of support.

Inside the room, the man keeps talking.

Outside it, Rafael doesn’t let her face it alone.

Not for a second.