“Could be,” Nash says. “Or it could be something else. We’re not jumping yet.”
Rowan is watching me now, her face tense, reading the shape of the conversation.
Nash continues. “But here’s the big part. We got a timestamped receipt from a shipping depot. A package was sent two days ago to a private box in Charleston. We’re heading there now.”
“Be careful,” I say.
“We are,” Nash replies. Then his voice shifts slightly, softer. “How’s the principal?”
I glance at Rowan. She’s trying to look calm, but her fingers are clasped tight in her lap. “She’s holding,” I say.
“You holding,” Nash asks, because he knows me too well.
I keep my voice flat. “I’m on mission.”
Nash exhales. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
He grunts, like he expected that. “Elena’s resources came through again. Private investigator team and a legal contact in D.C. We’re moving faster because of her.”
“Good,” I say, because I mean it.
Nash lowers his voice. “Sin. Keep me updated about Rowan’s case. You don’t have to figure everything out on your own.”
“Copy.”
“We’ll update you after the depot,” Nash says. “Stay sharp.”
“Always.” I end the call.
The room is quiet again. Rowan’s eyes are wide, but she’s holding herself together. Still brave. Still trying to pretend she isn’t scared. “What was that?” she asks, voice controlled.
“My brother,” I say. “New leads. Same thread we keep pulling.”
Rowan swallows. “About your dad?”
“Yes.”
She sits up straighter. “Is it bad?”
“It’s movement,” I reply. “Movement is good. It’s also dangerous.”
Rowan’s gaze drops, then lifts back to mine. “And you’re stuck here with me.”
The way she says it makes my chest tighten, because it carries two meanings. I keep my voice steady. “I’m not stuck.”
Rowan’s eyes search mine. “You hate not being there with them.”
I don’t deny it. “Yeah.”
“And you’re still here.”
“Yes.”
Her voice goes soft. “Because of me.”
I step closer, stopping in front of her. “Because of the mission.”
