Page 10 of Operation: Defiance

She closes her mouth, and her fingers curl around her bright pink lanyard, then loosen again.

Claire steps forward, tucking a lock of graying hair behind her ear. “Tessa, I’m sorry, but you’ve been placed on medical leave. Effective immediately.”

The apology and Claire’s soft tone make her words hurt that much more.

“For what?” Tessa asks.

“Occupational Health requested the review,” Claire replies, even more gently now. “They’ll follow up with you directly.”

Occupational Health? Why are they involved?

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Tessa turns to Claire. “Tell them. Please?”

“I know you didn’t, dear.” Claire gestures for Tessa to pick up her bag. “These things always sound scarier than they really are. I’m sure you’ll be back to work in no time.”

Tessa peers over one of the officer’s shoulders to meet my gaze. “Raine?”

“It’s probably nothing,” I offer. “An ergonomic assessment left unfinished or overtime logged incorrectly. Text me once you’ve talked to Occupational Health.”

She nods, trusting me like she has so many times before.

The officers flank her, close enough to guide without touching, and one picks up her bag before they head for the rear elevator. I watch them the whole way down the aisle.

Tessa’s hands hang at her sides, empty.

She always carries something. A notebook. A jacket. That silly ceramic mug she stole from Ops and never gave back.

But now…there’s nothing. Just her and two security officers in a white-walled elevator.

Only when the doors slide shut and the elevator starts to descend do I realize my own hands are clenched hard enough my nails are digging into my palms. I force myself to loosen them one finger at a time, using the ache to steady me.

Sometimes, pain can be useful.

I don’t have language yet for what I’m feeling. So I do what I always do—set it aside and keep moving.

Back in my office, I close the door and pull up Tessa’s personnel file.

Her credentials are already inactive, her status listed as Pending Medical Review, with a time stamp less than two minutes ago.

The speed makes it clear this wasn’t a sudden or routine decision. No one updates credentials that quickly.

I look over Tessa’s last two weeks of activity. Not because I think she did anything wrong. Because I want to know if someone else does.

The log is ordinary. The kind of work that fills most weeks. Cross-checks. Summaries. Small cleanups meant to catch errors before they matter. She was efficient, getting through her queue every day, even working ahead a little.

There’s nothing to indicate a health issue or the need for a security escort out of the building.

Then, one line stands out in her file.

Compliance review requested.

My breath catches before I can stop it. That status was logged two days ago. The same day Tessa brought the medical file to my attention.

I copy the timestamp and paste it into my private note without commentary.

The screen refreshes on its own. A code appears in the corner of the pane for all of two seconds before disappearing again.

RJ-3.