Then, with a breath and a click,
She pressedPUBLISH.
Echo's secure distribution matrix went live. The report deployed across every pipeline they'd prepped. Major outlets. Trusted journalists. International monitors.
Within moments, alerts started lighting up the feed. Emails. Download requests. A notification from a watchdog site confirming external access.
Behind her, Reaper let out a long breath. "Shit."
Echo leaned forward, eyes on his monitors. His fingers moved across the keyboard. "We're already getting hits," he said. "Multiple downloads. They're reading it."
Rachel's pulse kicked harder, but she stayed still. Watching the numbers climb. Watching it spread.
Ghost's hand came to rest on her shoulder. Warm. Steady. His voice stayed low. "No going back now."
Rachel nodded. She lifted her chin, straightening in the chair despite the pull in her ribs. "Good."
Minutes passed. The team moved around them, Torch checking his phone, Rouge and Bear conferring near the window, Frost checking Carver's stitches. But Rachel stayed at the laptop, watching the feed update.
Rachel's exposé had been live for less than an hour. And already, it was everywhere.
News outlets scrambling to keep up. Broadcast feeds cycling headlines faster than they could vet sources. Hashtags surging. Comment threads stacking by the thousands. The names she'd exposed, Langley, Hale, three sitting senators, flashing across national coverage on repeat.
Their secrets weren't hidden anymore.
Rachel closed the laptop slowly. Her hands trembled slightly, nothing obvious, just a faint shake in her fingers as the lid clicked shut.
The adrenaline that had carried her this far was gone. It had pushed her through the hours after the rescue, through decisions and deadlines and truths too dangerous to leave buried. But now it was gone. In its place came something quieter. Heavier.
Exhaustion.
Her muscles ached. The bruises beneath Logan's shirt throbbed with fresh heat. Every breath pulled against her ribs, dragging through pain she'd been too focused to feel until now.
She needed a moment. To breathe. To stop holding everything together. To let herself feel it safely.
Rachel turned toward Ghost. Her voice came out quieter, rougher. "I'm gonna take a shower."
Ghost's eyes lifted to hers. He didn't answer right away. Just watched her. She saw the tension in his frame, the part of him already bracing to follow her down the hall. The idea of distance between them didn't sit right. Not after what they'd just come through.
Ghost stepped closer. His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing gently along her cheekbone.
Then he kissed her.
Soft, but claiming. His mouth moved against hers with deliberate intent, pouring everything into it, relief, possession, need, promise. Everything he couldn't say out loud. His other hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her in until there was no space between them.
Rachel's knees went weak. Her hands came up to grip his arms, steadying herself against the intensity of it. Against him.
When he finally pulled back, just enough for their lips to brush. His breath came uneven against her lips.
"If you need anything," he said, voice low and rough, "you call for me. If you so much as whisper my name, I'll be there."
Rachel's breath shuddered out. She nodded against him. "I know."
He kissed her once more, gentler this time, then stepped back to give her room.
Rachel offered a tired smile, then turned and walked toward the hallway. Each step was careful against the hardwood, her body moving slower now under the weight of everything she'd been through.
55
