Page 40 of Blackwood

Nate scrolls. “Intel confirms them tagged for an offshore sale. Private plane out of Newark. Two nights from now. Midnight.”

“Where’s the plane headed?”

“Unclear,” Nate says. “Logs say Dubai. Red Silk’s intercepts say Poland.”

“Money’s on Poland if Krolek is involved,” Tex adds.

“Twenty-two kids,” I repeat under my breath. My throat tastes like rust. “This one’s ours.”

Tex nods. “We need the full team for this, or at least half of them.”

“Call in Khoza and Ivan,” I say. “O’Malley, too”

Nate looks up. “We pulling Bella in?”

I hesitate. “No. Not for this one. We don’t know what we’re walking into yet. She stays grounded. We can’t risk Krolek seeing her. Or Vince if he’s somehow involved in this one.”

“She’ll fight you on that,” Tex says.

“She can fight me all she wants,” I mutter. “She’s not going anywhere near that plane.”

A long silence. Then Tex pipes up, “Twenty-two.”

I nod. “Let’s bring them home.”

“Bella may not be the mission,” Nate says, voice softer now. “But she’s why it matters.”

I glance toward the staircase. Then at the skyline. Then down at my phone. There’s a photo on the screen. Me and her on the field at St. Lyra’s right after her Homecoming game halftime show. She’s still in uniform, glitter on her face, ponytail swinging, grinning like she just took over the world.

Ellie’s somewhere in the background yelling about lighting or angles, I don’t remember. All I remember is her. Bella, flushed from the performance, eyes wild and bright, dragging me out of the shadows like I wasn’t actively trying to avoid every camera on the East Coast.

I told her no. She took the picture anyway. Brat never listens.

Made some poor senior take it while I stood there in a Vixen t-shirt, arms crossed like a bouncer at a princess party. Hoodie ditched for once because she asked me to. I looked completely out of place and I didn’t give a shit. Not this time. Because she was glowing and I was proud as hell.

She’d danced like she owned that field. Like everything we’d been through—the pain, the blood, the nightmares—it hadn’t touched her. Like the fire hadn’t carved her hollow.

And in that second, standing beside her with stadium lights in our eyes and glitter stuck to my damn arm, I didn’t feel like a bodyguard. Or a ghost. I felt like her brother. And it was enough.

I stare at the photo. The grin. The glitter. That moment. I don’t get many of those with her. Not anymore. Now it’s blades and bruises and black site raids. Rigs and recon and revenge.

The girl in this photo? She’s still in there somewhere. But she’s tired. She’s scarred. And she’s carrying way too much shit I should’ve protected her from.

Maybe it’s time.

Not for normal. That ship sailed along time ago.

Not for safety. That’s a goddamn fairy tale.

Not even for closure. She knows too much for that.

But maybe if I can give her him, just once. Her dad. Her safe place. Herrealanchor before all of this. Maybe she’ll keep going. Maybe she’ll believe she still deserves a little light. And maybe, if I’m lucky, she’ll be okay.

There’s just one problem. If I give her him, I risk losing her.

And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

Chapter 14