Edges and Silences
1274 Words
Iris sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around her knees like an anchor. Across the room, Sadie leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, patient and quiet, giving her the space she needed. The low hum of the base filled the silence, steady and mechanical—too calm for the storm churning in Iris’s head.
“Something happened on the extraction,” Iris said at last. Her voice came out low, careful. “Something… someone.”
Sadie straightened slightly. “Okay,” she said gently. “Start there.”
Iris swallowed. Once she started, there was no pulling the words back. “There was a man. In the corridor. He shouldn’t have been there—no alarms, no warning. He looked right at me and said my name. Like he already knew me.”
Sadie’s expression shifted, alert now. “Your real name?”
“Yes.” Iris nodded. “And he said he’d been looking for me. For years.”
Sadie blinked. “Years?” She pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer. “Iris, no one was supposed to have eyes on that extraction.”
“I know.” Iris dragged a hand through her hair. “That’s what scares me. I don’t know how he got there. I don’t know who he is. And I don’t know what he wants.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.” Iris hesitated. “Not directly.”
“That hesitation tells me a lot,” Sadie said carefully. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”
The answer came too fast. “Yes.”
Sadie waited.
“Not just physically,” Iris added. “There was something… wrong about him. Or maybe familiar. Like he knew exactly how close to stand, exactly what to say. Like he already had a piece of me I don’t remember giving away.”
Sadie’s jaw tightened. “That’s not nothing.”
“I keep asking myself if I imagined it,” Iris admitted. “But I didn’t. I know I didn’t.”
“What happens if you see him again?” Sadie asked.
Iris shook her head slowly. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I don’t know if I should run. Or fight. Or listen.” Her hands clenched tighter around her knees. “And I don’t know if I should tell Alex.”
Sadie sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because if I’m wrong—if I don’t have answers—he’ll lock this down. Turn it into a threat assessment. And if I’m right…” Iris’s voice faltered. “Then this is bigger than any of us.”
Sadie didn’t interrupt. She never did when it mattered.
“I hate this,” Iris said quietly. “I hate not knowing who I was. I hate that someone out there does.”
Sadie reached out, resting her hand over Iris’s. Steady. Solid. Real. “You’re not weak for not having answers,” she said. “You’re human. And whoever this man is, he doesn’t get to control the timeline.”
Iris let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“We don’t rush,” Sadie continued. “We don’t panic. And we don’t face this alone. If he shows up again, you trust your instincts—but you loop me in. Every time.”
Iris nodded.
“As for Alex,” Sadie added, “we decide together. When you’re ready.”
Silence settled between them, heavier now—but not as crushing.
“I just don’t want to be caught off guard again,” Iris said.
“You won’t be,” Sadie replied. “We’ll watch the edges.”
Iris stared at the floor, the image of the man already resurfacing in her mind—calm, deliberate, waiting.
She knew one thing with absolute certainty.
This wasn’t over.
And next time, she wouldn’t be unprepared.
The base had settled into its nighttime rhythm—low lights, quiet footsteps, the steady hum of systems running in the background.
Iris slipped into the galley, barefoot and restless, intent on grabbing water and getting back to her room before her thoughts dragged her under again.
She stopped short.
Elias stood by the counter, fridge door open, staring inside like it might offer answers. He glanced up when he sensed her, surprise flickering briefly before easing into something more familiar.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
She snorted softly. “Apparently insomnia is contagious.”
He shut the fridge and leaned back against the counter. “You okay?”
Iris raised an eyebrow, glass already in hand. “Why? You gonna fight my demons for me?”
A quiet laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it. “Please. Like you can’t handle yourself.”
She smiled despite herself. “Damn right.”
They fell into an easy silence—comfortable, but charged. The kind that made Iris suddenly very aware of how close he was, how the dim lighting softened the sharp edges of his usual seriousness.
She studied him for a moment. “Alright. Your turn. What’s wrong with you?”
Elias blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t come down here in the middle of the night for water,” she said. “You look like you’re arguing with the refrigerator.”
That earned her another small laugh, but this one faded quickly. “Just… couldn’t shut my brain off.”
“Mission stuff?” she asked.
“People stuff,” he admitted, then winced like he hadn’t meant to say it.
Her chest tightened just a little. “That bad?”
He shrugged. “Depends who you ask.”
Iris’s gaze drifted before she could stop it. The refrigerator’s light spilled across Elias’s frame, catching bare skin where his shirt had been tossed aside earlier, softening the hard lines of muscle and shadowing the familiar tension he always carried. He looked different like this—unguarded, human. Less soldier. Less asshole.
The thought startled her.
Something pressed low in her chest, then settled uncomfortably in her stomach. A tight, unfamiliar pull she didn’t quite have a name for. She wasn’t used to seeing him stripped of armor—literal or otherwise—and it made her rethink things she’d already decided about him.
Maybe there was more to Elias than clipped words and suspicion. Maybe beneath the control and constant vigilance, there was something quieter. Something tired. Something real—
“Looking for a clean shot to kill me?”
The words hit like a slap.
Iris stiffened. He’d caught her staring. Of course he had.
Her mouth twisted as the moment shattered, heat flashing into irritation. And there it is. Trust issues, served cold at midnight.
She scoffed. “Relax. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be standing.”
He studied her for a beat, unreadable, then looked away like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or brace himself.
Just like that, whatever fragile thing had been forming snapped.
Why was a man that sexy such a prick?
She turned back to her glass, jaw tight. Of course he’d never think of anything else. Of course he’d never like her back. He still didn’t trust her—not really. Not after three years. Not after everything.
And that stupid, traitorous pull in her chest? Gone. Buried under armor she knew how to wear far better than hope.
She took a long drink of water and straightened. “Goodnight, Elias.”
She didn’t wait for a response.
Some things were easier when they stayed unspoken.
- Writer
