Finally, she drew a breath. “Then stop trying to protect me. If you want to help, let me do my job.”
He shook his head once. “If you won’t walk away, I’ll make you.”
Her chin lifted. “You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
The words came out rougher than he meant, low and certain, a promise and a prayer tangled into one.
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
He didn’t argue. “Go home, Norah.”
She turned toward the crosswalk, the light flashing green.
He waited until she disappeared down the Metro stairs before a desperate plea slipped out, silent but fierce.Please, God, keep her out of the line of fire.
The words startled him more than he wanted to admit. The prayer felt foreign in his own mind, like muscle memory from a body he didn’t live in anymore. It didn’t fix the hollow in his chest or the creeping certainty that faith wasn’t going to be enough.
So he did what he always did.
He went back to controlling what he could.
Marshall pulled his phone from his coat pocket, thumb hovering over Joey’s name before pressing call.
She answered on the first ring. “Did you convince her to drop it?”
“Not even close.” He turned his back to the street, scanning the glow of passing traffic as if the motion might steady him. “I need eyes on her.”
A low whistle cut through the line. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” The words felt heavier than they should have. “She’s too stubborn to let this go. I want digital eyes on her home network, her phone traffic—light touch. Nothing that spooks her.”
Joey muttered something under her breath—half complaint, half concern. “You’re crossing a line, boss.”
“I’m keeping her alive.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?”
He didn’t answer. The silence stretched until Joey sighed. “All right. I’ll set a soft perimeter. We’ll monitor her network activity, look into security feeds if she has them.”
“Good,” he said. “If anyone starts watching her too closely, I want to know first.”
“Other than us, you mean? Copy that,” she said. “You sure you’re all right?”
Marshall looked up at the Summit tower, the scattered lit windows remaining gleamed like indifferent stars. Tomorrow, she’d be there, still chasing the truth because she didn’t care that it was chasing her back.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Send me the feeds.”
He ended the call, pocketed the phone, and exhaled into the cold night.
CHAPTER 7
NORAH
Two days later,freezing rain lacquered K Street in a slick, restless sheen. Wipers thumped in slow rhythm outside the plate-glass windows of Atlas & Ash—a chrome-trimmed café that smelled like cinnamon and single-origin espresso. The tables were just far enough apart to imply privacy without actually offering it, the chairs minimalist and unforgiving.
He was there first.
