My cheeks flamed, but before I could respond, a Latino man with carefully styled dark hair approached, carrying what looked like high-end communications equipment.
“Leo Santiago,” Trent introduced. “Intelligence and interrogation.”
“Just intelligence today,” Leo corrected with a smile that seemed practiced to put people at ease. “The woman who got to Bricks. I was starting to think you were mythical.”
Trent shot him a look that would have wilted most people. Leo just grinned wider.
“And this,” Trent said, moving us toward a man carefully unpacking some kind of specialized equipment from a hard-shell case, “is Rafe Castellanos. Demolitions.”
Unlike the others, Rafe didn’t immediately offer his hand. Instead, he finished securing whatever delicate component he was handling before acknowledging us with a slight nod.
“Ms. Phillips.” His voice was quiet but carried a natural authority. “Your daughter is safe?”
The question caught me off guard. Not ‘nice to meet you’ or ‘heard a lot about you,’ but an immediate concern for Sophia. I felt some of my tension ease.
“Yes. She’s inside eating breakfast. Thank you for asking.”
He nodded once, satisfied, then returned to his work. I noticed how everyone gave him a wide berth, respecting both his space and the volatile nature of what he handled.
A well-dressed man approached next, his tailored clothes standing out among the tactical gear and weathered jackets. He carried himself with the easy confidence of old money, but his steel-gray eyes held a watchfulness that suggested he hadn’t always moved in respectable circles.
“Decker Sinclair,” he introduced himself before Trent could. “Logistics and procurement. Anything you need, I can find it. Pleasure to meet the woman who’s had our resident stoic checking his phone every five minutes for half a year.”
I caught Trent’s slight head shake, but it didn’t stop the warmth that spread through my chest at the thought of him worrying, checking, staying connected despite the distance he’d put between us.
“Careful, Deck,” Trent warned, but without real heat.
“Just stating facts,” Decker replied with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned back to me. “Whatever you need for you and your daughter, just say the word.”
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
Trent steered me toward a man examining Dutch’s truck with clinical interest. He had storm-gray eyes and dark brown hair that looked perpetually rumpled. When he turned toward us, I caught the glint of a silver chain disappearing beneath his collar.
“Dr. Alistair Shaw,” Trent said. “Our medic. Doc, this is Evelyn.”
“Ma’am.” His voice carried a slight formality that seemed at odds with his rumpled appearance. “I understand there’s a wounded civilian inside? Dutch Henderson?”
“Yes, shoulder GSW. Through and through, but he’s refusing proper medical attention.”
Dr. Shaw nodded, unsurprised. “They usually do. I’ll check on him shortly.”
“We call him Preacher,” Trent explained as we walked away. “Former military surgeon. Best field medic I’ve ever seen.”
“Why Preacher?” I asked.
“He quotes scripture when he’s stressed. Hates that we noticed.”
As we approached the back of the truck, I spotted a man standing slightly apart from the others. He was tall with dark hair, his face set in hard lines that spoke of recent pain. His hands—strong, capable hands—had a subtle tremor that he tried to hide by keeping them busy with equipment checks.
“Gage Banks,” Trent said, his voice dropping slightly. “He’s not officially Edge Ops, but he’s been staying at our facility since the earthquake and has a personal stake in this.”
I knew I had no right to ask, but I couldn’t help myself. “Personal… how?”
Gage glanced up at us, and I would’ve taken a step back at the look in his eyes if not for Trent’s hand still on my back.
“Innovixus,” he said. “I was one of their test subjects. I owe them for this.” He held up his hands. The tremor worsened momentarily before he got it under control and curled his fingers into fists.
From somewhere behind us, Alistair called, “Revenge is no good if you kill yourself on the way there.”
