Derek’s first instinct is protection.
It shows before he even says anything. The way his shoulders square like he’s bracing against an impact only he can see. The way his jaw tightens, teeth setting as his mind starts moving faster than the room. He’s already building a response, already narrowing possibilities down to the ones he can control. He doesn’t need the full briefing to land there. He reads threat like a second language. Always has. It’s muscle memory for him, carved in by years of responsibility that never really lets go.
“Reduced exposure,” he says, tapping the table once like it seals the thought into place. “We limit your routes. Cut unnecessary movement. You stay inside the core areas unless there’s a clear reason.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it. He’s looking at t
