“Doc Summers knows her business. If she says he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine.” Ghost’s voice carries the quiet confidence of someone who’s seen operators recover from worse injuries. “As for Phoenix, this location is off the grid. It would have to be very lucky to find us here.”
“And if it does get lucky?”
“Then we handle it.” The simple statement carries absoluteconviction. “That’s what we do, Dr. Wren. We handle things so civilians can live their lives without worrying about the monsters in the dark.”
I study his profile—sharp cheekbones, eyes that miss nothing, the kind of stillness that speaks of violence held in careful check. “How do you do it? How do you live knowing those monsters exist?”
“By making sure there are fewer of them tomorrow than there are today.” He gestures toward Cooper’s sleeping form. “Men like him? They stand between regular people and the kind of evil that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life. That’s not a burden—it’s a calling.”
“Even when it nearly kills them?”
“Especially then.” Ghost’s expression softens slightly. “You did good work back there, Dr. Wren. None of us would know about Phoenix’s financial network.”
Heat floods my cheeks at the unexpected praise. “If it wasn’t for Cooper, if it wasn’t for you and Cerberus, I wouldn’t be here to worry about him. I’d be dead in that Georgetown office, just another academic who got too curious about the wrong subject.”
“But you’re not.” Ghost stands, moving toward the door with the fluid motion of a predator. “You’re here, you’re alive, and you cracked Phoenix’s financial trail wide open. That’s going to make all the difference.”
He pauses at the threshold. “We’ve got chow ready in the main dining room if you’re hungry. Real food, not MREs or convenience store junk.”
My stomach chooses that moment to remind me I haven’t eaten since … Whenwasthe last time I ate? Yesterday? The day before? Time has become fluid since Cooper showed up at my office.
But the thought of leaving Cooper alone, evenfor a meal, makes my chest tighten with anxiety I don’t want to examine too closely.
“I think I’ll stay here,” I say, settling deeper into the chair. “Make sure he’s okay.”
Ghost nods like he expected that answer. “I’ll have someone bring you a plate.”
The door closes with a soft click, leaving me alone with Cooper and the mountain silence that feels so different from the urban chaos we escaped. No sirens, no gunfire, no footsteps echoing in concrete tunnels. Just the soft whisper of wind through pine trees and the steady rhythm of Cooper’s breathing.
“He likes you,” I tell Cooper’s sleeping form. “Ghost, I mean. He doesn’t say much, but I can tell he respects what you did. What we did.”
My free hand traces patterns on the blanket, restless energy needing an outlet. “I keep thinking about that homeless camp. About Janet, who could have taken our money and disappeared but chose to help instead. About humanity in the middle of inhumanity.”
Cooper’s fingers twitch slightly in mine, and I wonder if he can hear me on some level. If my voice pulls him back from whatever dark dreams soldiers have.
“I haven’t lost faith in people, remember? I was certain that woman would come back.”
The sun disappears behind the mountains, and automatic lighting systems bathe the room in warm, golden tones that make everything feel safer than it probably is. Through the windows, stars begin to appear in the clear mountain air—more stars than I’ve ever seen from any city.
Another knock, softer this time. The door opens to reveal Skye in medical scrubs carrying a steaming plate and a cup of coffee that smells like heaven.
“How’s our patient?” She sets the food on the bedside table, within easy reach.
“Sleeping soundly. His breathing seems steady. Everything looks normal to me, but I’m not qualified to judge.”
Skye examines Cooper’s bandages without waking him. “Healing well. No signs of infection. His body is doing what it needs to do.”
“How long?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “How long before he’s back to normal?”
“Define normal.” Skye settles into the chair Ghost vacated, her manner more relaxed now that she’s confirmed her patient’s stable condition. “If you mean how long before he can walk around without getting winded, probably another week. If you mean how long before he’s cleared for active duty …” She shrugs. “That depends on him. Men like Cooper heal faster than they should and return to work sooner than they ought to.”
“Because they’re stubborn?”
“Because they’re driven by something bigger than self-preservation.” Skye’s gaze moves between me and Cooper’s sleeping form. “Usually, that something is the mission, the team, the greater good. But sometimes it’s more personal.”
The observation hangs in the air between us, loaded with implications I’m not sure I’m ready to examine.
“Eat,” Skye says, nodding toward the untouched plate. “You’re no good to him if you collapse from exhaustion or malnutrition. That’s a medical order.”
