Simon's POV
The director's office smelled like old leather, sterilized silver, and something faintly magical—probably a protection charm carved into the mahogany beams. I didn't trust it. I didn't trust anything in this place, least of all the people who ran it.
But politics demanded civility, so I sat with Charlie on one side, our expressions unreadable as the hospital director offered a warm, practiced smile.
"Alpha Simon. Beta Charlie. I can't thank you enough for your assistance during the raid," the director said, leaning forward with hands clasped. "Without your intervention, we'd have lost more than just ground. We'd have lost lives."
Charlie inclined his head. "We simply did what needed to be done."
I didn't respond. I wasn't here for thanks. I was here to make sur
