The safehouse felt different when we returned.
Maybe it was just my perception, but everything seemed smaller somehow. The walls closer together, the rooms more cramped. Like I'd outgrown the space without realizing it.
Or maybe it was the weight of the decisions I'd made settling onto my shoulders.
Marco was waiting in the planning room, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Elena sat at her workstation, pretending to focus on wards but clearly listening. Tommy's screens showed our route back, verifying we hadn't been followed.
"So," Marco said as we entered. "Want to explain what actually happened?"
"The job was compromised. Client information was suspect, target was more secure than intel suggested. We made the call to abort rather than risk the team for uncertain payout."
"That's the official version. Now give me the real one."
I should have known Marco wouldn't accept the sanitized report. He'd been running the Jackals too long to be fooled by half-truths.
