The admission settles between us like a promise, like a commitment to something neither of us fully understands yet, but both recognize as essential. The acknowledgment that what’s between us is worth fighting for, worth the risk, worth building a future around.
“When do we tell Ghost?” she asks.
“Soon. He’s waiting for your decision.”
“And about this?” She gestures between us, indicating the obvious intimacy we’ve shared.
“We figure that out as we go. Together.”
“Together,” she repeats, and the word carries more weight now, loaded with promises and possibilities that extend far beyond operational partnerships.
Outside, the mountain morning continues its peaceful routine, but inside this room, everything has changed. Not just the obvious physical intimacy, but a deeper connection—the recognition that we’ve found something worth fighting for.
Phoenix is still out there, still hunting, still dangerous, but we face that threat as partners in every sense of the word.
TWENTY-SIX
Cooper
PHASE TWO
The conference roomfeels different this morning. Not just because of the Seattle skyline visible through floor-to-ceiling windows, or the advanced tactical displays. It feels different because Eliza sits beside me at the polished table, no longer a protected asset but an official member of the team.
Her new ID badge catches the morning light—Dr. Eliza Wren, Technical Consultant, Cerberus Security. The photo shows her serious expression, the one she wears when solving impossible puzzles, but I catch the small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
She belongs here. With us. With me.
Ghost enters carrying a stack of classified folders and the kind of expression that means our brief respite is over. Halo, Fuse, and the rest of the team filter in, settling into chairs with the easy confidence of operators preparing for the next mission.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ghost begins, his voice carrying the authority that’s kept us alive through impossible situations, “meet our newest team member, officially. Dr. Eliza Wren has beencleared for full integration into Cerberus operations, effective immediately.”
A round of nods and quiet congratulations circles the table. These men don’t waste words on ceremony, but the acceptance is apparent. Eliza proved herself under fire and earned her place through competence and courage rather than connections or politics.
“What’s her operational designation?” Fuse asks the question, carrying with genuine curiosity rather than challenge.
“Oracle,” Ghost answers. “Her ability to decode Phoenix communications and financial networks makes her our primary intelligence asset for this operation.”
Oracle.
The name fits—someone who sees patterns others miss, who finds meaning in chaos, who reveals truths hidden in plain sight. Eliza’s cheeks flush slightly at the designation, but she doesn’t protest. She understands the weight of operational callsigns, the way they define roles and responsibilities within the team structure.
“Whisper remains her handler and primary protection,” Ghost continues.
The formality of it settles something in my chest. Not just the professional recognition of what we’ve become, but the acknowledgment that our personal relationship enhances rather than compromises our operational effectiveness. We’re stronger together than apart, and Ghost understands that advantage.
“Speaking of ongoing operations,” Ghost says, opening the first folder, “Oracle has made some discoveries that change our understanding of what we’re fighting.”
All attention shifts to Eliza, who straightens in her chair with the confidence of someone who’s spent years presenting research to skeptical audiences. The transition from protected academic to operational consultant happensseamlessly.
“When I first decoded Phoenix’s financial communications,” she begins, falling into the precise language of intelligence briefings, “I found references to something calledAshfallscattered throughout the encrypted data. At the time, I assumed it was another operational codename.”
She activates the room’s display system, and financial network diagrams flood the screens—complex webs of shell companies and fund transfers that span multiple continents.
“But with access to Cerberus’s analytical resources, I’ve been able to dig deeper into those references. Ashfall isn’t a codename.” Her voice carries the excitement of discovery mixed with the gravity of implications. “It’s Phoenix’s financial reboot protocol.”
The room goes quiet except for the soft hum of electronic equipment.
“Explain,” Ghost says.
