“You still want me,” Dante said, “knowing what I’m walking away from?”
Ian’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re not walking away. You’re doing the job we trained you for while she does the job she is trained to do. She’s in the air again. You’re in the dirt. Both things can be true.”
Ford’s mouth twitched, something close to a smile. “You can’t keep wolves in one pen forever.”
Dante looked between them once more. “All right, I’m in.”
Ian relaxed, fractionally. “You’re wheels up in less than an hour. Jet to DC, turnover with Zach and Tate, then on to Ramstein.”
Dante picked up the folder, flipped it open, and scanned the first page that included his new name, his new history, and his new sins.
One more question lingered. He glanced up. “You think this really leads back to Krueger?”
Ford’s eyes went cold. “If it doesn’t, it leads to something worse.”
Ian’s voice was flat. “Either way, we can’t afford to sit this out.”
Dante closed the folder. “Then let’s go.” He picked up his bag again. There was no hesitation in his step.
CHASE SECURITY PRIVATE GARAGE LEVEL – 1941 HOURS
The elevator doors slid open to the private garage, the elevator’s cool air washing over Dante as he stepped out with his go-bag over his shoulder. Concrete, steel, and the faint echo of engines from the upper decks—neutral territory.
A black Chase sedan waited near the ramp, driver’s door open, engine low and steady.
Someone else was waiting too.
Mike Johnson stood beside a concrete pillar, hands in his pockets, tie loosened, jacket folded over his arm. No security entourage. No tablet. Just him.
Dante stopped a few feet away. “I thought you were still upstairs.”
“Finished what I needed,” Mike replied. “Figured I’d catch you before you ghosted.”
Dante snorted lightly. “Wasn’t going to ghost.”
Mike’s eyebrows edged up. “You were going to slip out without making me say this part out loud—which I get. But I’m not giving you that out.”
They stood there, the silence stretching between them.
“You read in?” Dante asked. “On the op?”
“Enough,” Mike said. “Ford going in as the buyer. You on his shoulder. Bravo watching your backs from the hills.”
Dante nodded once. “That’s the shape of it.”
Mike studied him for a moment. “Shannon knows?”
“Yeah,” Dante said. “We talked this morning. And again before I came down.”
“How’d she seem?”
“Angry. Scared. Steady.” He took a breath. “Clear.”
Mike’s mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile. “That tracks.”
They fell quiet again.
Finally, Mike pushed off the pillar and stepped closer. “You know, last time I saw you getting into a black sedan, you were a young kid trying not to cry on your way to your old man’s funeral.”
