I secured my phone to the attachment point on my forearm so I could monitor its display. “Ready to move?”
Brooke shouldered her pack and mounted her phone as well. “Let’s go hunting.”
We followed the route Mario had mapped for us. Somewhere ahead, Will’s drones would be checking the same tunnels, as well as any offshoots we could or couldn’t fit into, ensuring no one was lurking. They moved far faster than we did, covering a lot of ground.
The ancient Roman engineering channeled water toward the sea through carefully calculated slopes and junctions. Even after two millennia, the system functioned exactly as designed.
We walked, crawled, and squeezed through tunnels for another hour and a half. We chatted about our lives, things we’d done, and even about our childhoods. The drones had returned to us a few times after mapping ahead, needing to rest their batteries.
It was six o’clock, and we were supposed to be in place already. Mario’s estimate of an extra hour might have been appropriate for someone familiar with the tunnels, but not for us.
As she stumbled over some uneven rocks in the tunnel, Brooke let out a frustrated sigh.
“We’ll get there,” I said, attempting to reassure her as much as myself.
“That’s not it.”
“Something else on your mind?”
“I was just thinking…” She was quiet for several steps, her headlamp beam dancing across tunnel walls. “You love your team, don’t you?”
“Of course.” They were my family.
“Would you ever…” Silence again. “Would you ever leave them?”
“Leave the team? Why would—” I cut off, actually considering it instead of defaulting to the obvious answer.
I couldn’t leave. Scarlett needed me to watch her back.
But was that still true? Malcolm had told me it wasn’t. She didn’tneedme to be the one.
So what was my actual role anymore?
“I’ve never thought about it,” I admitted. “Five years of my life have been built around Scarlett. Making sure she stayed safe, that the team could handle whatever came at us.”
Brooke made a slight hum of consideration, but nothing more. Was it the Scarlett part that killed the conversation? Did she think—like so many had over the years—something romantic existed between Scarlett and me?
Or was the question?—
The realization hit me like… like three fucking bullets in my shoulder.
I halted and turned to look at her.Reallylook at her. Not just the strong woman I’d served with in Afghanistan. Not the soft one I’d spent last night with. But the one with tense shoulders and hopefulness in her eyes.
Hopefulness that warred with worry.
“You’re asking about us?” I finally said.
She covered her face with her gloved hands. “I know. It’s stupid to talk about this, considering everything that’s going on. We’ve been underground for two fucking hours, we’re totally lost, facing this whole threat, and my team’s?—”
“Don’t do that.” I closed the distance between us and pulled her hands down, encouraging her gaze to meet mine. “One, we’re not lost, we’re just slow. And two, when things are at their worst, is theexacttime you should be thinking about what matters.”
“Is that what’s going on here? Arewewhat matters?”
I’d been a protector all my life. But how could I protect a woman like Brooke? One who didn’t need it? All I had was my body to sacrifice for hers. I’d already done that, and the fallout had nearly destroyed both of us.
But somehow, here we were, together again. Ready to face the danger as a team.
I draped her arms around my neck, then wrapped mine around her. “Sweetheart, we areallthat matters.”
