While Walker conducted a security sweep, Reed showed Sabrina and Henry to their rooms. The cabin had four bedrooms, a large central living area, and a separate office space filled with communications equipment. It was more corporate retreat than hideout—but then again, she'd learned that the Star family never did anything halfway.
After changing into the clean clothes Reed's team had provided—simple jeans and a sweater that felt luxurious after days on the run—Sabrina rejoined the men in the main room.
They had already converted the large dining table into a makeshift command center.
"When do we start?" she asked, taking a seat.
"Now," Reed replied. "Let's see what we're working with."
For the next several hours, Sabrina threw herself into analyzing the evidence. Her corporate experience proved valuable as she identified financial patterns that might have otherwise been overlooked.
Throughout their work, she found herself gravitating toward Walker—their shoulders brushing as they leaned over documents, their hands occasionally touching as they passed files back and forth. Each casual contact sent electricity through her, a current of awareness that seemed to intensify as the hours passed.
She caught Reed's knowing glances more than once, but she didn't care. After fourteen years of separation and wondering what might have been, she wasn't going to pretend this connection with Walker didn't exist—even if the timing was far from ideal.
By evening, Sabrina felt both exhausted and exhilarated. They had made real progress, uncovering a clear pattern inKraslov's activities. He had been systematically building his network for over a decade, placing trusted operatives in key positions across multiple agencies and corporations.
"He's created a shadow intelligence apparatus," Reed explained, pointing to a chart they'd assembled. "Using government resources for personal profit."
"And eliminating anyone who got too close to the truth," Walker added grimly.
"Like our fathers," Sabrina said softly. She thought of the loss to both of their families.
Henry, who had been analyzing communication patterns, looked up from his laptop. "I think I've identified his core team. Six operatives, all with deep cover positions."
"Including Thomas," Sabrina confirmed, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. His betrayal still stung, perhaps more than it should. She'd trusted him with her life for months.
Reed finally called an end to their session. "Tomorrow we start building the prosecution case. But for tonight, I think we all need rest. It's been a long forty-eight hours."
No one argued. The adrenaline that had sustained Sabrina was fading, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. She made her way to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and staring out the window into the darkness. The isolation of their location struck her anew—miles from anywhere, surrounded by wilderness.
She sensed Walker's presence before she heard him.
"You should sleep," he said quietly, moving beside her.
Sabrina turned, finding him closer than she'd expected. The proximity sent her pulse racing. "So should you."
"I will. Soon."
She studied his face, taking in the lines of exhaustion, the stubble on his jaw, the tension he still carried in his shoulders. "No, you won't. You'll check the perimeter again, make sure allthe security systems are working, and then you'll sit up half the night because you don't trust anyone else to keep watch."
Surprise flickered in his eyes. "That obvious, huh?"
A small smile touched her lips. "I remember how you were at the lake. Always the last one to fall asleep, always the first one up. Always watching over everyone else."
"Some habits die hard," he admitted.
Sabrina set down her glass, reaching out to place her hand on his arm. The solid warmth of him under her fingers felt right, necessary. "You can't protect everyone all the time, Walker. Even SEALs need sleep."
Something vulnerable crossed his expression as he covered her hand with his own. "I couldn't save Ray," he said quietly. "I couldn't save my father. I couldn't save yours."
His confession broke her heart. All this time, he'd been carrying this burden of guilt. "This isn't about redemption, Walker. You don't need to be forgiven for anything."
"Don't I?" Bitterness crept into his voice. "If I'd been there?—"
"Then you might be dead too," she interrupted firmly. "And we wouldn't be here now, about to bring Kraslov to justice."
She watched understanding dawn in his eyes, as if he'd never considered that perspective before. Acting on instinct, Sabrina moved her hand from his arm to his face, her touch feather-light against his jaw. "Get some rest. For me. Just a few hours."
