Sabrina tensed, holding her breath as she waited for Henry's answer. If he had betrayed her father, betrayed her...
Henry's eyes narrowed. "To protect it. That's why I never uncovered it myself. I wanted to protect whatever was here—and Sabrina."
Anger surged through her, hot and sudden. "Like you protected my father?" she demanded, her voice sharp with betrayal. How dare he claim to be protecting her when her father was dead?
Pain flashed across Henry's face—genuine pain, not the calculated response of a liar. It caught Sabrina off guard.
"I tried," he said quietly. "By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late."
"So you're not the Shepherd," Walker stated.
"The Shepherd?" Henry looked genuinely confused.
Sabrina exchanged a quick glance with Walker.
Either Henry was an exceptional actor, or he truly didn't know everything. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust the man who had watched over her family for decades, but the evidence in her father's files...
"If you're not involved," she pressed, "why did my father have photos of you meeting with arms dealers?"
"Because I was following orders." Henry gestured slightly, and Sabrina noticed for the first time that he wasn't alone. Thomas, her morning security guard, stood at a discreet distance. Another complication, another potential threat.
"So both of you were in this?" she asked, feeling increasingly surrounded.
Henry shook his head. "Thomas? No. He's just helping me. Your father and I were both recruited for this operation twenty years ago. He provided the transport network. I provided security."
"Then who turned on him?" Walker demanded, asking the question that burned in Sabrina's mind.
"That's what I've been trying to figure out," Henry replied, his expression hardening. "Someone high up in the operation started diverting shipments three years ago." He turned to Sabrina. "Your father noticed discrepancies in the manifests. When he started asking questions, things got dangerous."
The story aligned with what they'd pieced together from her father's files, but Sabrina remained wary. Could she trust him? Should she?
"Convenient explanation," Walker said coolly, clearly sharing her doubts.
Henry straightened, meeting Walker's gaze directly. "Check the files. Frank documented everything. You'll find thesurveillance photos from the week before he died—photos of me meeting with his contact at Langley."
"CIA?" Walker's voice sharpened with interest.
"This operation has always been government-sanctioned," Henry confirmed. "Until someone started skimming. The question is who."
Sabrina stepped forward, her arm brushing Walker's. She drew strength from his solid presence as she faced the man who might hold the answers she'd been seeking for a year. "If you're telling the truth, why didn't you come to me after he died?"
"Because I didn't know who to trust," Henry said simply. "And because your father's last order to me was to protect you, not burden you with dangerous knowledge."
"Yet here we are," Walker commented dryly.
Henry's expression softened as he looked at Sabrina, and she saw in his eyes the man who had taught her to ride a bike, who had attended her college graduation, who had stood beside her at her father's funeral. "I always knew this day would come. Your father did too. That's why he made contingency plans."
"What plans?" Sabrina asked, hope rising within her despite her best efforts to remain skeptical.
"Insurance," Henry replied. "And the means to identify the Shepherd."
Walker shifted his position slightly, maintaining visual contact with both Henry and Thomas. "Why should we trust you?"
"Because he trusted me enough to specify you by name in his final instructions," Henry said, looking directly at Walker. "Your father knew someday you'd be protecting Sabrina. He wanted me to help you when that day came."
The revelation hit Sabrina like a physical blow. Both their fathers had orchestrated their separation and potential reunion. The implications—that her father had deliberately kept themapart, only to plan for their eventual reunion if things went wrong—left her reeling.
"Ohmygosh," she whispered, feeling the world tilt beneath her feet.
