Most people, upon rescuing someone, need that someone to stay rescued.

They need to remain the strong one, the savior, the hero of the story, and they grow strangely uncomfortable if the person they saved turns out to be formidable in her own right, because it complicates the flattering role they have assigned themselves.

Flynn did the opposite.

When he understood that the barefoot, bleeding girl he had pulled out of a storm was not a helpless victim but a strategist who had been methodically building a case for six weeks — who had, in fact, arranged nearly every piece of her own salvation before he ever appeared — he did not deflate, or feel diminished, or need to reassert that he was really the one in charge.

He smiled.