My life is being erased so a new one can be built from nothing.
"Maggie." Colt’s voice is quiet, close. He's standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, looking uncertain in a way I haven't seen from him before. "Can we talk?"
"They told you not to."
"Yeah. CJ said it compromises security. That I need to let you go." He moves closer. "But, I’m terrible at following orders."
Despite everything, I almost smile. "I noticed."
He sits down beside me on the tailgate, and the warmth of him is immediate and familiar. His shoulder brushes mine, and I feel the contact like electricity.
"Agent Holbrook said witness protection," he says quietly. "New identity. No contact."
"Yeah."
"How long?"
"Two years minimum."
He's quiet for a long moment. "That's a long time."
"Yeah."
"Maggie—" He stops, starts again. "I need to tell you something before you go."
I look at him. His face is shadowed in the pre-dawn light,exhaustion etched into every line. The dog tags are visible at his collar, Sofia's tags that he's worn for five years.
"You don't owe me anything," I tell him. "You saved my life. That's enough."
"It's not about owing. It's about—" He runs his hand through his hair, frustrated. "CJ thinks I saved you to assuage my guilt about Sofia. That I'm trying to rewrite Caracas by making different choices."
"Are you?"
"At first, maybe. When I heard those men talking in the bar, when I decided to follow them—yeah. I was thinking about Sofia. About choosing differently." He turns to face me fully. "But then I found you in that warehouse. And you made a joke about my scowl. And you kept pace during extraction like you'd been running ops for years. And you shot your own brother to protect yourself while still having the control not to kill him."
"Colt—"
"And somewhere between the warehouse and right now, this stopped being about Sofia." His hand comes up, cups my face with surprising gentleness. His thumb traces the bandage on my temple. "This became about you. About Maggie Brooks, who survived being sold by her own brother. About Magnolia, who's strong and fierce and doesn't break even when everything falls apart."
My throat is tight. "You're making this harder."
"I know. But you need to hear it before you disappear." He reaches up and pulls the dog tags over his head. Sofia's tags. The ones he's worn every day for five years. "These belonged to someone I couldn't save. Someone who died because I followed orders instead of choosing her."
"I know."
"I've worn them as penance. As a reminder. As punishment for making the wrong choice." He holds them out to me. "But I'm done punishing myself for Caracas. I'm done wearing guilt like armor. And you're the reason why."
I stare at the tags in his palm. "I can't take those."
"Yes, you can and youwill."
"They're Sofia's?—"
"They're a reminder that I made the wrong choice once." He takes my hand, places the tags in my palm, and closes my fingers around them. "And I'm not making it again. I'm choosing you. I chose you in that warehouse. I chose you at the ranch. I'm choosing you now."
"I'm about to disappear for two years."
"I know."
