Something twisted in my chest. She’d beenin lovewith me?
“She told me once that she called you. After her surgeries were done.”
“Left a message. I never called back.”
“Why not?”
Because I wasan idiot.
We continued for not nearly long enough in silence before he said, “You’ve spent six years punishing yourself for protecting the woman you loved the only way you could.”
“We’ve got thirty-three hours to stop Fenix,” I said, checking my watch. “Then I’ll figure out what’s going on with Brooke.”
“If there’s one thing I learned across all my deployments,” Percival said, “it’s that there’s never a perfect time. You take what you can get, when you can get it. And then you hold on for dear life.”
Chapter 30
Rav
The thudding bassof La Fiamma dance club vibrated through the soles of my boots as I slouched on the red velvet sofa in our alcove, watching the crowd. The silk button-up Mario had forced on me clung uncomfortably to my skin. Bright electric blue swirls tangled with deep purple and gold across the fabric—a far cry from my standard tactical black.
I felt exposed in it, like I’d lost my camouflage.
The day had been frustratingly uneventful. Percival and I had gone to Pompeii to reset the cameras, only to discover someone had removed the robot dog we’d found. Somehow, they’d gotten in there exactly when our cameras were down. That was worse news.
I should have sneaked into the park to fix the damn cameras the second Drew noticed the sound was out. Then we would have seen them come for the robot.
Percival and I had done another sweep of the drainage system and the amphitheater, finding nothing new or suspicious. Four hours of recon and the place’s normality had unnerved me more than finding any evidence would have. Meanwhile, Brooke and Malcolm had successfully retrieved theincursion suits from Norris, though she’d mentioned he was asking too many questions.
We’d even told Mario about Martinelli to see if he had any additional intel for us, but nothing came of it.
So instead, we were all at the club for our customary evening out the night before a big job.
“Drinks!” Mario’s voice boomed as he returned to our table, effortlessly balancing a tray loaded with glasses. He distributed them with a flourish and was off again, kissing the cheeks of two women at a neighboring table before heading for the dance floor.
He was clearly in his element. He’d gotten us past the bouncers despite the long line, had waved to the DJ, and had greeted half the club by name. I was on a team that was practiced at blending in. But Mario? He couldn’t blend in to save his life.
Emmett, sitting next to me, took a bright blue shot glass and downed it before grabbing a beer bottle. Zac bobbed his head to the beat, already on his second cocktail.
Every team had its pre-mission rituals. This was ours: finding a way to exhale before diving into the danger tomorrow. When we faced Fenix and their plans, our nerves needed to be steady, not frayed. We needed to remember why we did what we did—to see the goodness in the world we were protecting, and to remember we were a family.
I sipped what turned out to be whiskey, letting the burn distract me from the itch of the unfamiliar fabric against my skin. My eyes drifted to the dance floor, where Scarlett and Malcolm moved together under the pulsing strobe lights. There was an ease between them that spoke of complete trust—the same trust I’d seen develop between Drew and Jayce, who were huddled in another alcove, heads bent close in conversation.
Every damn one of my team had paired off during operations.
Except me.
The thought pulled my attention to the long bar where Brooke sat alone, one hand wrapped around a wineglass, the other tapping restlessly against the counter. She’d worn a black high-necked top despite the heat of the club. It covered her scars but couldn’t disguise her discomfort in the crowded space. Her shoulders were tight, her posture too straight.
“Checking for tangos?” Emmett asked, following my gaze.
I grunted noncommittally, dragging my eyes away from Brooke.
Too late. Emmett had caught me. “Or just one particular tango?”
Before I could respond, I spotted Mario approaching the bar. He slid onto the stool next to Brooke with the confidence of a man who’d never been rejected. The set of Brooke’s shoulders changed as he leaned close to speak in her ear while he signaled the bartender.
My fingers tightened around my glass.
