"Whatever." Mitzy pouts, rolls her eyes, then winks at me. "Find me later. Seriously. We have better toys than the NSA."
I'm still processing the rainbow hacker and the terrifying doctor when a shadow falls over us.
A long shadow.
Standing near the doors is the biggest human being I have ever seen. Pushing seven feet, built like granite, with shocking white hair and silver eyes that look like they've witnessed the beginning and end of things. He looks less like a man and more like a Norse god who took a wrong turn at Valhalla.
"Who is that?" I whisper to Kade.
"Forest." Kade leans heavier on me now. "He founded Guardian HRS with Doc Summers."
Forest nods as we approach—a small gesture, but Flint and Frost both straighten their spines.
"Good to have you back, Bishop." His voice is deep enough to vibrate in the pavement. Those silver eyes move to me. "And you, Miss Calloway. Welcome to Guardian HRS."
"Less talk. More movement." Doc Summers claps her hands. "Trauma One is prepped. Bishop, you're first. Calloway, Triage."
Kade is ushered away by the medical team. I try to follow, but Doc Summers steers me gently toward a different room.
"He's in good hands, honey. I'm going to fix him up like he's brand new. You let us do our job so he can get back to doing his."
In the triage room,a nurse checks me over. Bruised shoulder, minor cuts, dehydration. They clean me up and hand me soft gray sweats with the Guardian logo on the leg. They start an IV for fluids.
I can't rest. The adrenaline is gone, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion, but my mind won't close.
"Where is he?"
"Recovery," the nurse says. "He's out of surgery. Doc Summers stitched the artery herself."
"I need to see him."
"Miss Calloway?—"
"Let her in."
Frost is in the doorway. He's shed his tactical vest and a black t-shirt stretches across his frame. Two steaming paper cups in hand—a logo on the side that saysThe Guardian Grind.
The nurse sighs, but nods. "Five minutes. Then he sleeps."
"Here." Frost hands me one of the cups. He jerks his chin and leads me down a quiet hallway to a private room.
Inside, the lights are dimmed. Kade is in bed, left arm heavily bandaged and immobilized, monitors beeping a steady cadence. Pale. Peaceful.
I pull a chair to the bedside and sit. I take his right hand in both of mine. His skin is warm.
"He's going to be out for a few hours," Frost says from the doorway. "Morphine."
"I'll wait."
"We figured." He takes a sip of his coffee. "CJ and Sam were debriefing us. They're impressed. Not just with the intel."
"Mitzy seemed happy," I say, running my thumb over Kade's knuckles.
"Mitzy is in love." Deadpan. "She's already pitching Sam to hire you. Says your code is 'poetry.'"
I look at Kade's sleeping face. "I just did what I had to do."
"Bishop told us about the tunnel." Frost's voice drops, losing some of its edge. "He said you refused to leave him."
