Pope’s brows snapped together. “What?”
“He was dirty. Lex uncovered everything.”
The words sent him mentally reeling.
“He’d been selling favors for years,” Carson continued. “Information, access, money exchanges. He cut a deal to testify against the people paying him.”
Pope gripped the phone hard enough to make his fingers go numb.
“They poisoned him before he could talk,” Carson said bluntly. “The operation was already in motion before you ever walked into that embassy.”
Pope pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.”
“It’s true, Pope.”
The air suddenly felt suffocating.
He shook his head like maybe he could knock the words loose from his brain. “Okay, but his wife…”
“Knew exactly what was going on.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“She had access to the same information. She could have exposed them too. Maybe she feared for her life. Maybe she couldn’t handle the humiliation once everything collapsed. Maybe both.”
The disgust in Carson’s voice roughened more as he continued, “Buttheymade those kids orphans, Pope. Not you.”
Emotion surged into his throat.
Fucking years.
Years of carrying this around like a live grenade tucked inside his chest.
The therapy sessions and sleepless nights.
The friendships with his brothers-in-arms he destroyed before anyone could blame him for what happened.
He braced his forearm against the truck roof and bowed his head. “All these wasted years.”
“Look.” Carson pushed out a sigh. “I’m not Rhae and I’m not about to start talking like a therapist. But I was a SEAL too. I’ve seen shit. I’m telling you that you can keep bleeding over Baghdad, or you can use it.”
He was staring at the highway again, but he was seeing Summer’s beautiful face. She was the only thing that mattered.
Carson’s words solidified it. “You were never going to save the diplomat and his wife. That outcome was determined long before you ever entered that embassy. But you can still save Summer. If you don’t give up.”
Pope swallowed hard against the pressure crushing his chest. “I can’t imagine my life without her,” he choked out.
The words gutted him because he was already imagining it. Every terrifying possibility was crashing through him.
“I have to do something—now. I can’t wait for Colt.”
“You need backup.” Carson’s voice was firm in contrast to Pope’s emotional crash out. “Colt’s pulling into the auction house now.”
Before he could react, another voice cut across the line.
“Lex just sent the preliminary profile on the person who might have Summer,” Denver said. Papers shifted faintly over the phone.
“White male. Likely works transient or low-skill labor jobs. Drifts location to location. No strong long-term ties.”
