Page 77 of Code Name: Grit

And Keller—what game was he playing? Moving between rival organizations, seemingly trusted by both. Nothing made sense.

I sank into a waiting room chair, my body finally surrendering to the exhaustion. Tank sat beside me, his presence solid and reassuring.

“He’s going to be okay,” he said quietly. “Grit’s survived worse.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. “He has to be,” I whispered. “We still have too much unfinished.”

21

GRIT

The first time I woke after surgery, everything blurred at the edges. Through the haze of painkillers, I saw Lumi slumped in a chair beside my bed, dark circles under her eyes, her hand wrapped around mine. I tried to speak, but slipped back under before the words formed.

The second time, I managed to stay conscious long enough to register the IV in my arm, the sterile hospital scent, and Lumi’s whispered, “You’re okay,” before darkness claimed me again.

The third time, I broke through properly.

“Water,” I croaked, my throat raw from the breathing tube they must have used during surgery.

Lumi’s head snapped up from whatever she’d been reading on her tablet. “Grit? You’re awake!” She reached for a cup with a straw and guided it to my lips.

The cool liquid brought immediate relief. When I’d had enough, she set the cup aside and leaned closer, her fingers brushing my forehead.

“What happened?” I asked.

“The bullet tore through muscle and nicked your scapula. They had to do some reconstruction.” Her voice wavered slightly. “You lost a lot of blood.”

I tried to shift position and regretted it immediately as pain lanced through my shoulder. “Atticus?”

“He’s fine. The bullet went clean through his calf. He’s already hobbling around on crutches, complaining about hospital food.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Sounds about right.”

“Where are we?”

“Hospital in upstate New York. The team arranged for security.” She squeezed my hand. “We’re safe.”

The door opened, revealing Tank’s broad shoulders as he backed into the room, balancing coffee cups. When he turned and saw me awake, his stoic expression cracked into a rare grin.

“About damn time, Harrison,” he said, handing Lumi one of the cups. “Getting tired of watching you sleep.”

“Missed you too,” I replied, my voice still rough.

Tank pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. “You had us worried.”

“What’s the situation?” I asked, attempting to push myself up.

Lumi placed a gentle hand on my chest. “Don’t. You’ll disrupt your stitches.”

Tank sipped his coffee before answering. “Dragon and Dante have been rotating shifts with us. Outside of here, the area around the hunting lodge has been secured.”

“Giovanni?”

“Wounded in the explosion, but the fucker will live. He’s in the infirmary of the jail where he was transported after his arrest. The two guys shootin’ at us at the end are in custody too.”

I nodded, processing this information. “Rafael?”

“Back in Connecticut, surrounded by security. Cassio’s in Manhattan, similarly protected.”