Thane prompts me. “Can you rehash what the hunter said to you?”
I clear my throat, force my hands to release the arms of the chair I’m sitting in. “Right. He said that it’s handled by an off-shore business and he paid by crypto. Nothing solid. But he did say that Vesuvius is one of the game show hosts. As in plural. Threw out the name Apocalypse.”
“Copy. Got that in our notes, when you have time drop that into an email to me,” Mako says over the video call.
“So this thing isn’t a one off,” Colt says toward the camera. “That means they have more victims lined up.”
The men share grim glances as we all process that.
A soft knock against the door breaks the silence.
I’m spring-loaded bounding out of my seat. I jerk the handle so hard it falls off in my hand.
Fuck, tossing it aside, I ram my fingers in the hole and drag the door open.
Jade.
I grip the door frame to steady myself, every emotion I’ve felt in the last few hours whipping through me.
Looking soft in a new sweater and jeans, she shifts between her feet.
I want to leap on her, but I hang onto the wall instead. “Sweetheart,” I rasp, trying to hold my shit together.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says, tone shy. “You told me to find you?—”
She cuts herself off.
I reach out and she steps under my arm, tucking close. But I don’t move another muscle for fear of pushing her too far right now.
“I’m glad you did. You’re not interrupting anything,” I tell her, forcing my voice down, steady, even as something inside me is pushing hard in the opposite direction.
There is not a single sound out of the meeting room, like all of the men are holding a collective breath for us right now.
“You finished?” I ask, keeping it simple, private information contained.
She nods once.
I know what she just went through, what she chose to go through, and the fact that she’s standing here now instead of somewhere quiet, tells me everything I need to know about where her head is at.
“Let’s go hang out together.” I step past her, my hand finding the small of her back and guide her out of the doorway.
No need to explain to the team. The door closes behind us, sealing off the room. Keeping all the ugly shit in there.
The hallway is bathed in morning light and it feels surreal after the kind of night we just survived.
Intentionally I choose the sunroom. It’s intimate and flooded with warm, clean sunshine. The opposite of the forest.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as she takes one chair, and I take the one across from her.
“Okay.”
But she glances away. Worrying at her fingernail.
“Did they treat you right?”
Fuck, it feels like I’m saying all the wrong things.
There’s a small pause as she presses her lips flat. “They were wonderful. Thank you for getting help to come here. April—the counselor was incredibly helpful. And Dr. Barnhill was so professional and kind.”
