The door groaned shut behind them with a metallic finality, the kind that made your skin crawl if you thought about it too long. The lock clicked into place, heavy and echoing in the sterile room. It was cold—cold in that way only a prison could be, where the walls seemed to leech the warmth right out of your skin.

Callen hated this room. Hated the energy in it, the sharp angles, the false calm. Mostly, he hated who was sitting at the table waiting for them.

Lukas Voss. Hacker. Saboteur. Suspected of involvement in three government system breaches, one missile silo scare, and at least one murder that couldn't be pinned down. His code had brought entire cities to a halt. His fists had broken jaws. A tech genius with a penchant for violence. Dangerous from behind a screen. Lethal face to face.

He hadn't wanted to bring Nell.

It wasn't that he didn't trust her—he did, more than most - but prisons were dangerous, unpredictable and he didn't like bringing her that, but he needed her mind to get inside Voss's.

And now Voss was chained to the table, pale wrists cuffed, but posture relaxed. He looked up as the agents entered, a slow, unnerving smile spreading across his face as his gaze fell on Nell.

"They sent you?" His voice was thick with mockery, as if she were a child who'd wandered into the lion's cage. "Cute."

Nell didn't react. She walked calmly to the table, pulled out the chair, and sat. Her tablet rested in front of her, fingertips poised over the screen like she was about to take notes in a lecture hall—not face down a sociopath.

Callen didn't say a word. He stood behind Nell's chair, arms crossed, jaw tight. His stance said everything he needed it to. One wrong move, and this wouldn't end pretty.

Nell glanced down at her tablet once then looked Voss in the eyes.

"You reverse-engineered the Red Specter strain," she said. No preamble, no warming up. "You lifted the architecture from DarkSky and buried your own backdoor in the kernel. You built something no one else could trace. Until we did."

That flicker of interest flashed behind his eyes. He sat up slightly.

"You think you understand it?" he asked, almost amused.

"No," she said. "I know I understand it. What I don't know is your trigger protocol. And I think you want someone to finally recognize just how brilliant it is."

Callen smirked silently. That was the thing with guys like Voss—you didn't beat them with threats. You beat them with recognition. With someone smart enough to get it.

Nell didn't need bravado. Her strength was quiet, precise. And in this room, she was playing chess while Voss still thought they were arm-wrestling.

The conversation unfolded slowly, with Nell guiding it like a conductor, easing Voss deeper into the weeds. She spoke in code and systems, asking questions Callen didn't pretend to follow. But what he did follow was Voss's body language—the shifting tone, the leaning forward, the way his voice dropped when he thought he was pulling one over on them.

And then, it happened.

Without warning, Voss surged forward, the metal cuffs scraping across the steel table, hands darting toward Nell with lightning speed.

Callen moved before he could think.

In one brutal motion, he slammed Voss's arm down hard, the clang of bone against metal ringing through the room. His other hand pinned Voss by the shoulder, shoving him back into the seat like a rag doll.

Voss snarled, but the fight was gone before it could start.

Nell hadn't moved.

She hadn't flinched, hadn't gasped, hadn't even turned her head.

She didn't have to.

She knew Callen would stop it. Knew he always would.

"You try that again," he said, voice low and lethal, "and I'll make sure you can't move that hand again. Ever."

The prisoner bared his teeth, trying to laugh it off, but it came out more like a growl.

Callen didn't budge.

Nell calmly lifted her tablet again, like nothing had happened. "I believe you were just about to explain the rootkit trigger protocol."

The prisoner blinked, thrown off. His confidence cracked.

Callen stepped back just enough, staying close.

Nell didn't look up, but Callen saw the smallest flicker of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

When they finally left that cold, gray room, the lock sliding back into place behind them, Callen didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

Nell glanced over at him, her voice light, almost amused. "You were fast."

He gave her a small shrug. "You knew I would be."

She nodded once, and they kept walking down the corridor, side by side.

There were no speeches. No reassurances. Just the quiet certainty between them, forged over years, sealed in moments like this.

Trust like that didn't need to be spoken. It was just there—unshakable. Absolute. Always.