“I’m going to find El Centinela.”
Spencer scoffs and shakes his head. He looks hurt. Confused. Angry. This isn’t working. “Naomi, this is crazy. You’re only making things worse. It’s not just treason. Those guards are dead. They say you killed them.”
I look at Naomi. She doesn't fold. Doesn’t crumble. But there’s a flicker of despair before it’s quickly replaced by determination again. I wish I could go to her.
"Do you really believe I would kill those men?" Naomi asks, raw, honest, and open.
Spencer doesn't answer immediately. The silence speaks volumes. I watch his face carefully. He doesn't believe she's a killer, but he's struggling to make sense of what's happening.
“I don’t. Of course I don’t. But you have to turn yourself in. You have to trust that?—"
I can't take it anymore. "Use your goddamn head," I all but growl at Spencer, stepping forward.
"Walker, please," Naomi says with a hand on my arm.
"They're trying to kill her." The words rip from my throat.
"Who?" Spencer asks, doubt still written all over his face.
"Whoever doesn't want that site found. She turns herself in, she's as good as dead." I don't add that I won't let that happen. Not while I'm breathing.
Spencer's eyes narrow as he studies me. "Who are you?"
"As I said, this is Walker Cole," Naomi explains. "I foundhim in the woods. I... took him hostage. But now he's helping me."
"What?" Spencer shakes his head, looking back and forth between us like we've both lost our minds. I'm pissed at him for not grasping the danger Naomi is in, but I'm somewhat sympathetic to him for not following.
It has been a crazy few days.
The start of a car engine echoes in the distance, the sound bouncing off concrete walls. Time's running out on our reunion.
Naomi sighs, and I’m astonished by how calm her voice is in the face of all that she’s up against. “Matt. If you believe what they say about me, if you believe I betrayed my country and killed those men, then turn me in. But if you don’t, if you believe I’m the person you’ve always known me to be, then you have to see that there are traitors in our organization trying to destroy me. And I’m asking for your help. Please.”
Spencer runs a hand over his short-cropped hair. His mind clearly working through the implications.
Finally, his body relaxes, and he straightens.
"How?" Spencer asks.
Naomi nods, relief visibly washing over her. "If I can get the evidence that I need, will you get it to the proper people? People we know we can trust."
Spencer's gaze shifts from Naomi to me, his eyes narrowing. "Do you trust him?" The question’s for Naomi but his eyes bore into mine, challenging.
She turns to me. "I do," she says quietly.
Three letters, two syllables. But those simple words hit me like a physical force, something warm expanding in my chest. I've killed men, toppled governments, and disappeared without a trace. I've been a ghost for years. But in less than seventy-two hours, this woman has somehow seen something in me worth believing.
And God help me, I want to be worthy of it.
Matt turns his gaze to her, then nods. "Then I’ll do what I can."
Naomi steps forward and embraces him. I lower my weapon, but my grip tightens reflexively at the way Spencer wraps his arms around her. Their familiarity is obvious, the way she fits against him, the comfortable press of bodies that have hugged before. Something primal in me wants to step between them, but I force it down. Not my place. Not my right.
"Thank you," she murmurs against his shoulder.
When they separate, Spencer glances at me over her shoulder. "Take care of her.” His tone is different now. He’s not confrontational but genuinely concerned.
“I will.” Five letters. Two syllables. But those simple words are a solemn promise I intend to keep.
