“Why?”
“Because we’re stuck together for the foreseeable future. And I need to know who I’m stuck with.”
“You know enough.”
“I know your callsign. I know you’re good at your job. I know you’ve lost people.” The words come faster now. Something I can push against instead of drowning. “But I don’t know you.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Maybe not.” I stand. Hold my ground. “But I want to.”
Something flickers across his face. Pain. Memory. A door slamming shut before I can glimpse inside.
“We’re done here.” He turns toward the gear piled by the door. Starts checking straps and buckles. “Phoenix’s search radius expands every hour. We need to prep for tomorrow.”
“Diego—”
“It’s Halo.”
The correction lands like a slap.
Halo. Not Diego. The man who made me tea doesn’t exist. Just the operative. The callsign. The ghost.
I want to push. Want to pry open whatever he’s hiding. But exhaustion is winning again, and he’s already somewhere else—checking gear, checking exits, checking everything except me.
Fine.
I finish the terrible tea. Set the mug down harder than necessary.
Outside the window, the sun is lowering. Shadows stretch across the dead leaves like grasping fingers.
My phone is gone. Destroyed. A pile of plastic shards on the side of the road somewhere.
My family thinks I’m dead.
My career is over.
My life as Cassie Brennan—attorney, daughter, sister—is gone.
But I’m alive.
… For now, that has to be enough.
Evening comes fast in the mountains. One minute, there’s light—pale gold filtering through the dirty windows. Next, the woods are walls of black pressing against the glass.
Diego—Halo—has been checking the perimeter every thirty minutes. When he comes back inside the fourth time, cold air follows him through the door.
“We need to eat,” he says. He strips off his jacket, revealing the shoulder holster. “You need calories for what’s coming.”
“What’s coming?”
“Training.”
The word hangs there while he moves to the kitchen. He opens a can of chicken noodle with a military P-38 opener on his keychain. Click-snap. Click-snap.
“Training, for what?” I ask.
“Basic self-defense. Surveillance detection. How to move in public without drawing attention.” He dumps the soup into a pot. “If we get separated, you need to know how to disappear.”
