The Ravens had stolen his sight and forced him into darkness, but he refused to live there… He would always choose light.
White Ravens
Gage
The winter air on the rooftop of the Ravens’ headquarters cut through Gage the moment the helicopter doors opened.
Washington, DC, at night wasn’t quiet. It pulsed with distant sirens, the roar of heavy traffic, the steady beep of crosswalk signals, and the shrill whistle of the wind slicing through high-rise buildings.
The floodlights over the landing pad were bright enough to make pain flare behind his eyes. He frowned and turned his face away as if he could escape it.
Roz clamped his hand around his bicep like a vise as he guided him down the metal steps.
“There’s a whole fuckin’ welcoming committee standing out here.”
Gage felt them before Roz whispered it.
The space held a different kind of stillness when multiple people stood watching him.
Roz leaned in again, his gritty voice brushing his ear. “There’s a woman in a businesslike suit who looks mad-important. That must be, Jo. She’s got about a half dozen people behind her.”
He could hear more hushed conversations from a handful of men and women standing off to the left.
“There’s another group over there wearing all white,” Roz added. “Three of them are in white lab coats.”
Roz clutched him harder, stopping him short.
“Gage,” a woman said in a calm but authoritative tone. “Welcome home. I’m Jo, director of the Ravens.”
Home. That word still felt wrong.
“I have a few members of my team with me. My personal assistants, our director of intelligence, the head of field strategy, our hospitality and logistics division heads, my lead enhancement directors, and my chief medical officer.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Well, um, no need to make all the introductions at once.”
He wondered what those titles meant, what roles they carried out. They all addressed him with respect, and dare he say, awe in their voices.
Each person’s greeting was quiet and polite, nothing like the cold detachment of the ones from the White Sector. No one grabbed him or barked orders.
“Hello, Gage, my name is Rose McIntyre, I’m the lead coordinator of your personal assistants and hospitality team.”
Gage’s head was spinning.
A woman came closer, carrying the soft scent of vanilla shampoo and floral perfume. Gage imagined she had long blonde hair with deep curls and pale skin that blushed when she was outside in the cold.
“I’m Rose McIntyre, lead of your administrative and hospitality team.”
Hospitality?
“I manage the team that handles your daily logistics: Like appointments, needs for your living quarters, meals, your operational readiness, even your recovery blocks so you stay mission-efficient. You also have someone that governs communication between you and the different divisions, and aslew of other things. So, I basically make sure you have what you need before you even know you need it.”
Um. Will I really need all that?
“But, right now, my sole responsibility is to make sure you’re comfortable and that you have everything you need while you settle in.”
Rose’s voice was low and warm, making everything she said sound comforting.
“Tonight, you have no responsibilities or expectations. Your only task is to rest and become familiar with your quarters. This facility is your home, your haven. And tomorrow—if you feel up to it—we’ll begin your orientation.”
Gage nodded.
