"I don't know what to say,” she admitted.
"You don't have to say anything,” Dante said. She closed the distance between them, not because she needed protection, but because she wanted to be near him. There was a difference now. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and someone knocked at the door. It opened before either could answer, and Rocco stepped inside. He stopped immediately, and for one awkward second, no one moved.
Then Rocco smiled. "I was beginning to think I'd have to search the whole building to find you."
Lark laughed quietly. "I just needed some air."
He looked around the enclosed office. "Worst place to find it." That made her laugh again, and the sound surprised all three of them. It almost felt normal. That was something she hadn't experienced in years.
Rocco leaned against the doorframe. "You okay?"
She considered lying. "No."
His expression didn't change. "Good."
She frowned. "Good?"
"I don't trust people who claim they're fine after surviving what you survived."
She appreciated the honesty. "I'm scared."
"We know,” Rocco said.
"I'm angry." Dante nodded.
“I get it,” Rocco said.
"I don't know what tomorrow looks like,” Lark admitted.
Rocco smiled. "Neither do we." For some reason, hearing him say that helped. She wasn’t sure why Rocco brought her so much comfort after they had only just met, but he did.
Avery's voice echoed through the intercom. "Everyone to the briefing room." The moment disappeared as reality crashed back in. The three of them walked toward the operations center together, and Lark found herself naturally falling between Dante and Rocco. Not because they guided her there, but because it felt safe. The realization startled her. She'd known Rocco less than a day, and yet something about him settled the constant anxiety buzzing beneath her skin.
He projected confidence without arrogance and strength without intimidation. Dante noticed her glance toward Rocco, and instead of looking jealous, he looked relieved. That also surprised her. Most of the men she'd grown up around viewed every relationship as a competition, but these two didn't. At least, not yet.
The briefing room filled quickly. A large satellite image covered one wall, and Avery stood beside it with a laser pointer. "Keller's people have completely surrounded this block." Red dots appeared across the map. "There are twenty-seven confirmed hostiles."
Someone whistled. "We have twelve operators." Those weren’t great odds.
Avery continued. "We've also intercepted communications." She clicked to the next screen, and a photograph appeared. Lark's stomach dropped. It was a photo of her. It wasn’t a recent picture, though. It was taken several years earlier.
"What is that?" Rocco's expression hardened.
"A contract,” Avery said.
"Keller has circulated her photograph to multiple private military groups." Another screen appeared, and then another. Each contained Lark's picture at different ages with different hairstyles and different clothing. Someone had been watching her for years. A chill crept down her spine.
"He's been planning this,” she whispered.
Rocco nodded. "For a long time."
"Why?" Lark asked.
Silence settled over the room before Avery opened one final file. "This." A document appeared on the screen, and at the top was one name.
Isabella Santos.
Lark stopped breathing. "My mother."
