The mist rolled low across the Texas Hill Country, softening the sharp edges of the hills and cloaking the land in a quiet stillness. Eli stood on the front porch of his cabin, one hand wrapped around a chipped Crossfire Ops mug as he took the last sip of lukewarm coffee. The air was cool, tinged with cedar and the damp earth from last night’s dew.
It should have been peaceful. Hell, on any other day, it might’ve been. But not this morning.
His thoughts circled back to the conversation with Hale and Lawrence the day before. They’d been all smiles and smug confidence, especially Hale, tossing out that recorded message like it was gospel. And it had landed hard.
Olivia didn’t leave the institute because it was a bad place. She left after she tried, and failed, to kill me.
Yeah, no joy in hearing that. It had given Noah, Delaney, and him a gut punch and a whole lot of worry that it might be true.
After they left, Eli and Delaney had holed upin her cabin trying to figure out if the recording from Ava was real. They’d tested it, analyzed the audio, and Isla had worked her tech magic to isolate the voice. No voice synthesis. No deepfake tricks.
It was indeed Ava Camden.
But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been coerced. Eli knew that kind of fear. Knew how easy it was to force someone to say the unthinkable if the right leverage was applied.
They did know Olivia’s reaction, though. And when Noah had taken the message to her in the hospital, she’d nearly come unglued. Olivia had sworn it was a lie. That she would never hurt her sister.
And Eli believed her.
Or rather hewantedto believe her, but there was that sliver of doubt, and it ate away at him like acid.
He set the mug on the porch rail, watching the mist snake through the trees. Something about it itched at the back of his brain, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit.
Behind him, the cabin creaked as the heater kicked on. Another cool morning, another day closer to the truth. And maybe another step into whatever hell Hale was really hiding behind the walls of his so-called institute.
Eli caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned slightly. Delaney stepped out onto her own porch, her hair pulled back in a loose knotand a steaming mug in her hand. She took a sip, eyes scanning the tree line, her posture easy but alert.
That hit of heat punched through him before he had a chance to brace. Damn it.
He turned back toward his door and shut it a little harder than necessary. Took a breath. Told himself to get a grip. Then he walked down the steps and crossed the short distance between their cabins.
Apparently, he hadn’t done a good enough job of tamping down the heat, because it was still there. Low and tight in his gut. She looked over when she heard him and lifted her chin in greeting, one brow raised like maybe she already knew what was stirring under his skin.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” Delaney replied back. “You’re up early.”
“So are you.”
Delaney gave a small shrug and held up her cup. “Coffee and nerves. The breakfast of champions.”
Eli stopped at the base of her steps, trying like hell to keep his gaze on her face and not let it drift. “You sleep at all?”
“Some.” She took another sip and exhaled. He noticed that today her rubber band was tan, nearly the same color as her wrist. “Kept dreaming about that recording.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.” He shoved his handsin his pockets and looked out toward the trees. “You ready for this?”
Her answer came without hesitation. “Yeah. Just wish we knew what the hell we were walking into.”
He nodded. So did he. And yet, they were going anyway.
Delaney took another sip of her coffee, then lowered the mug and looked at him fully. There was something in her eyes this morning, something clearer. Not lighter, exactly, but steadier.
“You do this every morning?” she asked. “Stand out here, breathe in the fog, pretend everything’s normal?”
“Most mornings,” he said. “Breakfast of champions,” he echoed and then added a grin. “Though it’s easier when you’re not playing over a dozen what-ifs in your head.”
She gave him a half-smile. “Yeah. Those are relentless.”
