Finally, when my legs were burning and my head was still full of Sophie's face—peaceful in sleep, copper hair spread across white pillows like fire on snow, trusting even unconscious in a way that made me ache—I pulled out my phone and called the number on the card.
The driver answered on the first ring.
"I need a ride," I said, my voice rough from disuse and self-loathing.
"Where to?"
"Dominion Hall."
No questions. No judgment in his tone. Just: "I'll be there in ten minutes."
I stood on the side of the road and waited, watching cars pass, watching normal people live normal lives—heading to work, to coffee shops, to breakfast with people they loved, to whatever mundane shit filled their days and made them feel human.
Wondering what the hell mine had become.
When the black SUV pulled up, sleek and expensive and so clearly not civilian it might as well have had "shadow operation" stenciled on the side, I climbed in without a word.
The driver didn't try to make conversation. Just drove, quiet and professional, like he'd picked up plenty of fucked-up soldiers who didn't want to talk and knew better than to push.
My mind was set. Find out what the fuck Dominion Hall really was. Find out why Klein was here, why he'd shown up now after years of silence, what he wanted, what leverage he thought he had. Find out what I'd gotten tangled in, what kind of shadowoperation I was being recruited into, what enemies came with the job.
Then book the first flight back to my unit, where at least I knew the rules, where I could kill bad guys and do my best to keep the men around me alive and maybe get killed in the process so I'd stop fucking up everyone I touched.
I'd do that until I died.
Simple. Clean. No complications.
No Sophie getting hurt because I couldn't keep my shit together long enough to be what she needed, what she deserved, what she'd somehow convinced herself I was capable of being.
Better to cut it off now. Quick. Before she invested more. Before I did more damage.
The gate opened before we even reached it, like they'd been expecting me, like they had cameras everywhere and had watched me walk half of Charleston before finally breaking down and calling.
Probably did.
Micah was waiting at the front door.
Of course, he was.
He stood there in jeans and a t-shirt, casual as hell, looking calm and unruffled and completely unbothered, like wayward recruits showed up raging and demanding answers every day.
I climbed out of the SUV and walked straight at him, fury building with every step, all that guilt and self-loathing and fear twisting into something sharper, something I could actually use, something that felt better than the hollow ache in my chest.
"Klein," I said before I even reached the porch, my voice hard and cold. "Special Agent Trevor fucking Klein. Why is he here? What the hell have you people dragged me into?"
Micah didn't flinch. Just watched me approach with those steady, measuring eyes that saw too much.
"What kind of shadow bullshit are you running?" I kept going, my voice rising as I climbed the steps, getting louder with each word like volume could replace answers. "What fucked up operations? What enemies have you made that bring the FBI sniffing around? Because I'm done. I'm done being kept in the dark. I'm done being lied to by omission. I'm done being treated like a fucking asset instead of a person."
I reached him, got right in his face, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, close enough that he'd have to actually acknowledge me instead of giving me that infuriating calm.
"You want me to work for you? Fine. Then tell me the truth. All of it. What is Dominion Hall? What do you actually do? And why the hell is an FBI agent from my past suddenly in Charleston making threats I don't understand about investigations I'm, apparently, part of?"
Micah let me finish. Let me get it all out, all the rage and fear and confusion I'd been carrying since Klein showed up at Mama P's with that sleazy grin and those vague threats. Didn't interrupt, didn't defend, didn't make excuses or deflect or do any of the shit people usually did when you called them on their bullshit.
Just stood there and took it.
Absorbed it like he'd heard worse. Like he'd expected exactly this.
