I press my forehead against his chest, feeling the steady drum of his heart—strong, certain, alive. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I stop pretending I don’t need anyone. I let the weight of his arms around me carry what I can’t.
I let myself be held.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move to pull away. He just stands there, solid and unyielding, the kind of strength that asks for nothing and offers everything.
His hand comes up slowly, resting between my shoulder blades—not guiding, not restraining, just there. Steady. Present.
For once, I yield, letting someone else be the strong one while I breathe, shaking, against him.
“We need to find Device Four,” I murmur against the fabric of his vest, my voice muffled, uneven.
“We will.” His tone is quiet, sure, threaded with something gentler than command. “But first, you breathe.” His palmpresses slightly closer, an anchor more than an order. “You let yourself feel this. You won.”
The words aren’t about victory; they’re about survival. And the way he says them—the warmth in his voice, the deliberate calm—feels like an offering. A promise that, for this heartbeat, I don’t have to hold myself up alone.
I won.
The words feel foreign, unfamiliar. I'm not used to winning, not used to having the story end with everyone alive. But here we are—me, Flint, all the FBI and Guardian HRS personnel outside. No casualties. No failure.
Parker appears beside us, tablet in hand. "Ms. Sutton, I need you to look at something."
I pull back from Flint reluctantly and take the tablet. It shows photos of the disarmed device, close-ups of specific components. One of them makes my breath catch—a small note card, tucked under the primary housing where I would only find it after disarming the device.
I recognize Greer's handwriting immediately. The message is short, meant only for me:
"Congratulations, Girl Scout. You passed the first test. Device Four is where all journeys end and begin. Where the water meets the world. You have until sunrise to find it. Don't be late—you know I hate poor time management. -MG"
“Son of a bitch,” I breathe. “This was all a test. A way to prove I’m good enough for whatever he’s really planning.”
“What does he mean about where journeys end and begin?” Parker asks.
I’m already turning the phrase over in my mind, hunting for the reference only I would recognize.Where water meets the world. Journeys ending and beginning.
The others might think of geography—any coastline, any harbor—but for Greer and me, it was always about systems,thresholds, transitions. The fragile seams where movement becomes exchange.
And then it clicks, sharp and immediate.
“The Port of Los Angeles,” I say.
Parker frowns. “Out of every port on the coast, why that one?”
“Because it’s where we started—and where we ended.”
Images crash through memory: the heat-haze shimmer of container yards, the metallic smell of salt and diesel, the night Greer and I stood overlooking the cranes during training, arguing about control theory and chaos management.
He called it the heart of the machine, where the world’s pulse could be stopped with a single disruption.
“It’s the only port he ever cared about,” I continue, voice steadier now. “His first field exercise was staged there. His final simulation—the one that got him pulled from the program—was supposed to mimic a cyber-physical strike at the Los Angeles terminal complex. He told me once that if he ever wanted to prove the system’s fragility, he’d start there.”
Parker exhales, understanding dawning.
“He’s not talking about just any port,” I finish quietly. “He’s talking aboutourport. The one we built models around, the one we argued over for months. For Marcus Greer, the Port of Los Angeles isn’t a target—it’s the thesis. The beginning and the end of everything he’s trying to prove.”
Parker is already on her radio, coordinating with FBI offices in Los Angeles, requesting satellite imagery and port security footage. But I'm looking at the timer display in the photo, doing the math in my head.
If Device Four is as sophisticated as Device Three, maybe more so, I'm going to need most of that time just to find it in the sprawling chaos of one of the world's busiest ports.
"We need to move now," I say, standing despite the exhaustion pulling at me. "The port is massive. If we don't narrow down the location before we get there, we'll never find it in time."
