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Lark

I stared at the burner phone in my hand like it might start talking again.

Axel wasn’t just unreachable—he was possibly in trouble. Real trouble. The kind you don’t come back from without help.

I didn’t know how to get to Jordan. I didn’t know how to infiltrate a former safe zone turned trap. I didn’t know what Marley had actually uncovered or what the hell a man like Greg Bishop had planned.

But I knew someone who did.

I pulled out my real phone, scrolled past a dozen names, and tapped one I hadn’t expected to use.

Eloise Raider.

Veterinarian. Badass. Wife of Jack Raider, another SEAL who probably had a war chest buried in his backyard and a team of operatives on speed dial.

She picked up on the first ring.

“Lark?”

“Yeah. Sorry—it’s late.”

“Jack’s out cold on the couch with one of the dogs. What’s wrong?”

I swallowed. “I need help.”

Eloise’s voice sharpened instantly. “What happened?”

“I got a cryptic message from my sister. She’s been overseas doing investigative work. She said she’s leaving Gaza. But someone named Lena—an old contact of Axel’s—just told me he might’ve walked into a trap trying to find her.”

Silence.

Then Eloise said, “Where are you?”

“Shirley’s house.”

“Stay put. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

She hung up.

I stared at the phone, hand trembling slightly. This was happening. I wasn’t sitting on the sidelines anymore. I was stepping in.

Willa watched me from across the kitchen, calm and steady. “You good?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But I will be.”

“Good,” she said. “Because we’re about to turn this kitchen into a war room.”

Fifteen minutes later , a knock at the door.

Eloise stepped inside like a woman on a mission—jeans, boots, hair tied back, a military-style duffel over her shoulder. She’s been hanging around the SEALs too much.

“Jack’s getting the team on standby,” she said. “But you and I are going to figure out exactly what Marley triggered and what kind of mess Axel might be stuck in.”

She spread out a folder on the table and started pulling up files on her tablet. Surveillance photos. Marked maps. Coordinates I didn’t want to ask how she had access to any of this.

Willa handed us both coffee and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “I’m staying too. You’re not doing this alone.”

Eloise glanced at me. “You sure you’re ready to learn this SEAL stuff, Lark?”

“I don’t have a choice,” I said. “He came for me. Now it’s my turn.”

Eloise smiled—fierce, proud. “Good. Because I think we just found where the message came from.”

She turned her tablet toward me.

There, on a blurred map of desert roads and abandoned compounds, was a glowing red dot labeled:

Last known Marley contact. Timestamp: 21 hours ago.

And beside it… another marker, dimmer. Labeled:

AXEL MARTIN – SIGNAL LOST.