Fear crawls up my spine, cold and familiar—the kind that kept me alive when I was with Mateo, the kind that makes me check the locks twice every night and sleep with my bedroom door open.
"Then maybe you should explain exactly what we're up against," I say. "Because right now, all I know is that my son witnessed something bad and dangerous people want him dead. That's not enough information to make good decisions."
Colton's gaze finally shifts from the window to me. Even in the dim light, I can see exhaustion carved into the lines around his eyes. The permanent kind, bone-deep and never healing.
"The Committee is a shadow organization embedded in federal intelligence agencies," he says. "They run illegal operations under the cover of legitimate government work. Black sites. Weapons testing. Elimination of anyone who threatens to expose them."
"Like a conspiracy theory."
"Like a conspiracy fact." His mouth twists. "My team has been hunting them for months. We've exposed some of their operations, eliminated some of their assets. But they're bigger than we thought. Deeper. And they don't forget."
"What does that have to do with Lucas?"
Colton leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. It makes him look younger somehow—less like a weapon and more like a man carrying weight that never lightens.
"The man Lucas saw murdered was a guard at one of their black sites. He knew things. Saw things. They killed him to keep him quiet, and Lucas happened to be there." He pauses. "The operative who did the killing is named Kessler. He's former Delta Force. One of the Committee's most dangerous enforcers. And Lucas can identify him."
My stomach drops. "You told me the whole truth. My son is a witness to a murder committed by a special forces operator working for a shadow government organization?"
"Yes."
"And they'll kill him to protect their secrets."
"Yes."
“But how do they know about him? We didn’t file a police report. I didn’t even know something had happened at first. I just left with Lucas. Once I realized he’d seen something, I felt he was safer if no one knew he was a witness.”
Colton nods. “The Committee is thorough. They scrubbed all the security footage from any and all sources that might have recorded the killing. But before they did, you can bet money they isolated and saved pictures of Lucas.”
His answer hangs in the air between us, stark and final.
I close my eyes and focus on breathing. In through my nose, out through my mouth—the technique my therapist taught me for managing panic. Count to four. Hold. Count to four. Release.
When I open my eyes again, Colton is watching me with an expression I can't quite name. Worry, maybe. Or regret.
"Why did you leave?" The question comes out before I can stop it. "Not now. Eight years ago. Why did you walk away?"
His hands flex, knuckles going white. "Rachel?—"
"No. I need to know." My voice stays steady despite the pressure building in my chest. "You don't get to show up after all this time and play hero without answering that question. Why did you leave me?"
Silence stretches so long I think he won't answer. Then he exhales, long and slow, like he's releasing pressure that's been building for years.
"Because I was broken," he says quietly. "Because every time I came back from a mission, I brought the violence with me. The things I'd seen. The things I'd done. I couldn't separate the operator from the man, and you deserved better than someone who only knew how to destroy things."
"That wasn't your choice to make." Words come out sharp and angry. "You don't get to decide what I deserve. You don't get to protect me from yourself by disappearing."
"I know." He finally meets my eyes, and the rawness there catches me off guard. Pain, guilt, and fear all mixed together. "I know I was wrong. But I'm here now, and I'm not leaving until you and Lucas are safe."
This promise should matter. Should mean something after all the years of silence.
But promises are just words, and Colton already proved his words don't hold.
"Safe," I echo. "And then what? You disappear again? Go back to your team and your missions and forget we exist?"
He doesn't answer immediately, and that hesitation tells me everything.
"The plan is to relocate you," he says finally. "New identities. New city. New life where the Committee can't find you. Once that's done, my job is finished."
