It takes a lot to shake me, and even when I'm upset, most people wouldn't even know it. There was just something about the last job that kept me from keeping my cool. I know how dangerous it is, and knew even better when I had to be carried away that day, becoming literally less of the man that entered that compound. I was ordered to rest, recover, and recuperate, all under the watchful eyes of the team's psychologist. She was there to get in my head, to watch for signs that I may be a danger to myself. She became my outlet, the calm to the storm trying to take over in my head. There would be no problem with what we were doing because the possibility of returning to work with the Cerberus MC was never going to happen, and if there was an off-chance I would, walking away would be easy, right?