Page 11

10

Flash strode down the stark hallway of the hospital, scanning for any sign of Lechuza, but all he got from the busy nurse’s station was a vague shrug and a nod toward the recovery ward. When he pressed for more details, Where is she? Is she okay? the harried nurse only sighed and offered little beyond a curt, “I’m not sure. Let me check.” Then she disappeared. The hospital was busy as hell, and he shifted. When a new nurse showed up, he gave up, his frustration mounting, and asked for Ndhlovu’s room number instead. It was the best lead he had. A few moments later, he found the right door and slipped inside.

“O-voo,” Flash said with a grin. The man was propped up against lumpy pillows, bandaged around the side of his head, his skin dark against the stark white. He looked up as Flash entered, a flicker of surprise crossing his face at Lechuza's nickname.

“So, you’ve picked up her habit,” Ndhlovu said, voice a touch hoarse. “You know it’s because she has a hard time pronouncing my name.” He chuckled affectionately.

Flash offered a quick grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The nurse told me I might find you in here. Figured I’d drop by and see how you’re holding up.”

“The concussion from the bullet graze is severe enough they’re sending me back to the states to recover.” Ndhlovu gestured to his head. “Could’ve been worse.” There was a weary humor in his eyes as he added, “As for Lechuza, she’s already headed back to the fight.”

Flash’s smile faltered. He’d half expected that, but hearing it sent that restlessness since he met her to a sharper edge. “Alone?”

Ndhlovu shook his head. “Nah. She’s got help. Two Shadowguard, Ryū and Bagh. They’re good men, from what I’ve seen.”

“Interesting code names.”

“Yeah, we Shadowguard choose our callsigns from our ancestors. For me, I’m a descendant of the South African Zulu tribe, so Ndhlovu is powerful and fitting for my callsign. I watch over others, move with patience and strength, and embody resilience.” He touched his temple.

“Bullets bounce off?” Flash asked.

Ndhlovu smiled, his teeth bright. “Something like that.”

“And Ryū?”

“Second generation Japanese American. In Japanese culture, Ryū is dragon and stands for strength, wisdom, and mystical protection. They’re revered as powerful forces who bring fortune or devastation. The sense of awe lines up perfectly with his formidable skill set and the heritage of disciplined samurai warriors.”

Flash wasn’t so much interested in Ryū. His attention was focused on this Bagh. “The other one?”

Ndhlovu chuckled. “Bagh? He takes his name from the Bengal Tiger native to Nepal, second generation American, and inherited his forebears Gurkha grit.”

“Gurkha. They fought with the British, right?”

“A reserve unit of the British army. Once a Gurkha sets a goal, there’s little that can deter him. The man is unflinching in battle, infamous among our group for his tiger’s courage and ability to stay focused under extraordinary pressure. He has an affable intensity. Even under fire, he runs on adrenaline and unwavering resolve. Big contrast to Ryū who listens more than he speaks, master of the subtle, fluid and stealthy, he blends into the shadows.” The man’s dark eyes were full of mischief. “You’re not going to ask?”

“About.”

He chuckled longer this time. “Lechuza means owl in Spanish, but you probably already knew that.” That look of deviltry intensified. “She’s a beautiful woman, but she’ll cut your heart out if you call her pretty.”

Flash grinned. “You pulling my chain?”

“Maybe…a little.”

“Fuck you, O-voo.” Some rebel spirit inside him wanted to see her again so he could not call her pretty, but gorgeous, and see how she would react. Part of him didn’t want to think that she would need to carve out a heart she already possessed.

His deep laughter was rich. “Fair enough. Do you want to know about her callsign or not?”

“You know I do, you cagey bastard.”

“She has patience, wisdom, and silently observes for hours, a formidable opponent, even in captivity. She’s a silent predator, killing with precision and intelligence, and she strikes out of nowhere. There have been times when I thought I knew where she was, and I turned around and she’s right behind me. Silent as hell. I never hear her coming.”

Those were the things he suspected about her, but he hungered for something more. “Her ancestry?”

“Sapa Inca. She comes from people who built one of the greatest empires in history, they mastered guerrilla warfare against the Spanish, and that tactical knowledge was passed down through generations of resistance fighters. Combat, stealth, and assassination are in her blood, that of a fallen empire. She’s a Krav Maga master, probably can wield any weapon she touches, and she makes a mean chili.”

Flash tried not to let that piece of information settle too deep. “Glad she’s not flying solo,” he said casually. “But…is she okay? Really, okay? She went through a helluva trauma, and then to go right back after Herrera—” He blew out a breath, raking a hand through his hair. “I know it’s gutsy and all, but it’s also?—”

“Risky?” Ndhlovu finished for him. He studied Flash’s tense posture. “She’s been through worse, though, she doesn’t talk about it much. You know her. She’s stubborn. Determined.” He paused for a moment. “You sweet on her?”

Flash straightened so fast he almost tripped over himself. “What? No, no.” He coughed, searched for a joke. “Just wanted to make sure you guys were all right. We saved your asses, after all, and it’s not often I get the chance to do a hospital check-in.”

Ndhlovu responded with a dry, knowing laugh. The protective edge in it was unmistakable, like an older brother warning off a rival. “Sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Good luck, by the way, nailing that girl down. She’s not flighty, but she’s got her own agenda. Like her namesake. She doesn’t stop until she’s finished the job.”

Flash swallowed hard, bracing for whatever came next. He tried to crack another grin, but it felt thin. “She was looking a little rough last I saw her. I just wanted?—”

Ndhlovu cut him off. “She was looking at you the same way, if you ask me, so clearly there’s something unfinished between you two. But if you’re planning on stepping into that ring, you ought to know you’ve got competition. Bagh’s been after her for a while now, and that guy’s as smooth as they come. Charismatic as hell.”

Something in Flash went primal, possessive at the notion of another man being close to Lechuza, closer than he was. Who was this Bagh guy, and why was it churning him up so much? It wasn’t like he had any claim on her…did he?

Still, he refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he forced a lighthearted shrug. “Better watch my back, huh?” he said, feigning that easy humor he was famous for. “I don’t even know if I stand a chance, but good to know my potential competition’s a real charmer.”

His attempt at levity earned a low chuckle from Ndhlovu, but the teasing glint in the man’s eyes didn’t fade. “Yeah, I’d say you’d better watch more than your back. She’s not an easy one to keep, that’s all I’m saying.”

Flash tried to fire off a quip, something about him being “drown-proofed” in BUD/S, so a little heartbreak couldn’t be any worse, but the words died in his throat. What he felt was too raw, and his chest constricted.

He cleared his throat instead. “Right. Good talk, O-voo. I’ll…uh, let you get your rest. Safe travels back.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ndhlovu replied. “You, on the other hand…good luck out there.”

Flash managed a crooked grin, nodding as he backed out the door. The moment he was in the corridor again, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. His heart thudded in his chest, and his thoughts whirled, all fixated on one woman who was halfway to a war zone. Part of him knew exactly why it bothered him so much, and that simple truth left him feeling as if he hadn’t so much as scratched the surface of what was happening in his head.

After tracking down Joseph Baxter, who was about to be released, and conversing with him for several minutes, it was clear Flash had made his day. He wished the kid well. Outside his room, Flash braced one hand against the wall, drawing in a shaky breath. Drowning had never been a problem for him. He’d been trained to harness the surf and ride out the worst of any tide. But this…this was a different beast. She was the unrelenting undertow, dragging him under no matter how hard he fought. Part of him suspected that struggling was futile, that maybe surrender was the only way to survive the pull. Yet even as the thought terrified him, some raw, inexplicable part of his soul whispered that something powerful was happening, and maybe he had no choice in whether or not to drown.

Inside the briefing room at the SEALs’ secured compound, the air crackled with barely restrained fury. Scarred concrete walls pressed in from all sides, illuminated only by harsh, buzzing overhead lights. Tactical maps and satellite images marked with red Xs and hastily scribbled notes covered a metal board behind Tex. The acrid scent of stale coffee mingled with the sharp tang of gun oil, a reminder of violence barely escaped.

Dagger stood rigid near the center, every muscle tight, anger still simmering beneath his controlled exterior. The bruises on his knuckles from slamming his fist against a concrete wall earlier reminded him of how close he'd come to throwing away everything he'd worked for. All because Langford had failed Quinn. That failure nearly cost her life, and the thought sliced deeper than any blade.

“Before we bring in Langford,” Emma said, her voice showing her disdain, “I have some unsettling news.”

The atmosphere in the room tautened. “We of course checked the cameras for any footage to explain what happened.”

“Don’t tell me,” Shark scoffed. “It was blank.”

Emma nodded solemnly. “The attackers shot out the surveillance, and we lost the valuable feed.”

“Fucking convenient,” Easy snarled.

Emma looked toward the door and nodded. Twister opened it and said, “We’re ready for you.”

Langford walked in, his expression tense beneath the unflinching stares of eight battle-hardened men and Emma Sutherland. Beast’s ruff bristled, and he growled low in his throat. Langford’s attention went briefly to the dog, frowning at the animal's animosity. “Control that monster,” Landford said low, his voice skittish.

“Yeah? Well, he has his own opinions, and he outranks me.” Brawler shrugged.

“I don’t think he likes you, Langford,” Flash said with a smirk.

Emma Sutherland, the CIA operative with the lethal grace of a coiled weapon, stood off to one side. Her long blonde hair, her violet-blue eyes sharply appraising Langford's every twitch.

Tex didn't mince words. “Langford, explain to me exactly what happened tonight.”

Langford swallowed visibly, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "My team was running a perimeter check. One of my guys thought he spotted movement near the west fence line. We believed there was a breach and went to verify."

Dagger’s fists tightened, nails digging into his palms as he thought bitterly. They left Quinn wide open and that’s his pathetic excuse? He glanced around, noting his teammates' matching expressions. Brawler's jaw clenched, his body radiating silent fury as he exchanged a dark glance at Beast. The dog was laser-focused on him, simply waiting for Brawler’s command to attack. The usually laid-back Malinois never seemed relaxed in the presence of the Aegis Force Solutions CEO. Easy's deep-set eyes were narrowed, his usually relaxed demeanor replaced by sharp disgust.

"A perimeter check?” Bondo's voice rumbled incredulously from across the table, his massive form leaned forward aggressively. “All of you went off chasing ghosts at the fence and left our people unprotected? That’s amateur hour bullshit.”

No one on the team had trusted Langford’s security outfit, not after what had unfolded today, and certainly not before or after the conversation at the bar. They’d called it then, and Langford had just proven them right. Brawler’s expression darkened, the air around him charged with barely restrained fury. When he spoke, his voice was low, lethal. "We knew exactly what kind of operation you were running, Langford. We called it from the start. And tonight? You proved us right. You left Quinn and her team unprotected, and now you expect us to just take your word for why?"

Easy leaned forward, tension making his midnight-blue eyes appear black. "Exactly. How fucking convenient that the cameras went dark right when your team disappeared. Makes it hard for anyone to prove you wrong."

Langford bristled, shifting defensively. “Look, it was an error in judgment. I admit that. We were trying to cover the perimeter. Thought we had eyes on all entries?—”

Bondo’s voice, steady yet lethally quiet, cut him off. “Thought isn't good enough. Quinn almost died because your team got sloppy. That doesn’t fly here.”

Dagger swallowed back his rage, forcing himself to remain still as Langford looked desperately to Tex for support, finding none. Tex remained stone-faced, his intense gaze never wavering. "You're dismissed, Langford. Wait outside."

Langford stiffened, his eyes flashing with irritation. He looked ready to argue, lips parting like he was about to throw back some weak defense, but Tex’s expression turned ice-cold, and whatever half-baked excuse was about to leave his mouth died in his throat.

He turned sharply on his heel, but as he reached the door, he hesitated just long enough to let his disdain show.

"Typical SEALs ," he muttered, voice dripping with mockery. " Always acting like you're the only real warriors in the room. "

The moment the words left his mouth, Brawler tapped Beast. The Malinois, already bristling with aggression, snapped up instantly, dropping to all fours with a sharp growl, his lips peeling back in a flash of teeth. Langford flinched just enough to betray the moment of panic before he masked it. His breath hitched as Beast took a half step toward him, a low, dangerous snarl filling the silence.

Cold satisfaction settled over the team as they watched him jerk back, face tightening with barely controlled anger.

Dagger smirked, the flicker of satisfaction barely dulling the fire burning under his skin. The fucker. Langford straightened, rolling his shoulders back like he hadn’t just been rattled, his gaze scanning the room, marking faces, calculating grudges. Then his eyes locked onto Dagger’s.

A challenge. A promise. This isn’t over.

Dagger met his glare head-on, expression unreadable but broadcasting one simple truth. You have no idea what I would do for Quinn. Test me and see.

Langford didn’t just leave. He let his gaze linger, letting the moment stretch, letting them all feel it. Like he wanted them to know he wasn’t finished. When the door clicked shut, the silence left behind was thick with unspoken threats.

Dagger’s pulse pounded in his ears, his breath slow and measured, but the storm inside him raged unchecked. Bring it the fuck on. If Langford wanted a fight, Dagger would give him one, one he wouldn’t walk away from intact.

He wanted to see him bleed, the way he made Quinn bleed. Wanted to watch the light flicker in his eyes as he realized, too late, that he’d fucked with the wrong man. Wanted to see the same fear that had been in Quinn’s.

His fists ached to deliver the first blow, to etch a message into Langford’s skin that couldn’t be ignored.

But not yet. He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw locked. Not yet.

Retribution wasn’t just his. It was coming, a blade already in motion, cutting through the dark toward Langford’s throat. When it landed, he wouldn’t even see it coming.

When the door clicked shut, Emma’s voice sliced the quiet tension. "That's one hell of a weak excuse for a so-called professional." Her eyes found Dagger’s, filled with sharp understanding and sympathy. "I don’t like his reaction time or his attitude.” A chorus of muted agreement rippled through the room. “But we have other matters to discuss.” She folded her arms, her gaze thoughtful and unrelenting. “JSOC is on the warpath after a call from State regarding the optics of this attack. State has a contract with Langford, so he’s still on the books. There’s nothing we can do about that.” She looked at Tex. “Fill them in.”

Tex turned his attention to the team. “We’ve been assigned to additional security at the site, backing up Langford’s outfit. He sounded like he was trying to swallow glass. “We’re on deployment exclusively for security.”

“How long?” Dagger asked, thankful that JSOC had taken control of the situation. Without Quinn, the embassy project would be stalled. The architect’s vision permeated every metal, stone, glass and concrete part of the design. She was integral and had to be top priority.

“Six months, then we rotate out and another team rotates in and so on until the project is completed. The timeline is about eighteen months.”

“What about Herrera?” Bondo asked.

“The Shadowguard are tracking him. The moment they have his location, we’re going to launch a drone attack. The Venezuelan government is on edge, and even more so after this blatant and bold attack on our people, desecrating our site. As far as JSOC, the CIA, and State are concerned, it’s an act of war, and we’re going to respond in kind.” Emma picked up a folder and started for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to contact my operatives in the field and get a progress report.”

“Emma, is Lechuza part of that hunt?” Flash asked. Dagger looked toward him as every weathered eye turned his way. Flash ignored their speculation.

“She is,” Emma said, her voice catching a bit. “I can’t thank you enough for saving her and O-voo. They are valuable operatives, and close friends.” There was a soft murmur in the room. The team went after hostages for one reason only: to bring them home. They didn’t expect accolades or thanks. It was part of their DNA. “I’ll keep you guys posted.”

As the door closed behind Emma, the team started to rise, but Tex said, “We’re not done here.” His gaze landed on Dagger.

Tex’s calm yet deliberate tone cut through the silence. “Dagger, Are you in the right headspace to handle Quinn’s protection detail?” The question was loaded, since the only thing stopping him from tanking his career was Easy and Bondo’s unwavering strength and concern for their teammate. From Dagger’s perspective, the room had become a confessional, the cold concrete walls and utilitarian lighting mirroring the starkness of his inner turmoil. The air felt heavy, charged with the unsaid words of the team, as Tex waited for his answer in the wake of his brother’s expectant stares.

Dagger’s jaw tightened as he admitted, even if only in a low murmur, “I was reckless…and?—”

“Scared,” Easy said. Easy’s words and his tone were raw, exposing a vulnerability he had fought so hard to bury. “That’s not judgment, Kade.” His eyes shuttered and his gaze darkened. “I would have done anything to protect Astraea from Ramos. But even though our situations are different, you guys were there in the end when I couldn’t protect her.”

“Yeah, we all know how that feels,” Twister said. “You all know what kind of hell I went through during the Kittiwake’s salvage operation below the ocean when Neil Lancaster attacked us. I thought I was going to lose Sadie, and it was the most visceral and terrifying moment of my life.”

Bondo nodded. “On the carrier, Cam went fucking overboard.”

“You fucking went after her in that churning ocean and brought her back alive,” Shark said. “Just like I took a lead for Maddy.”

“Only because you guys were there to reel us in. We get it, Dagger. We do.”

“We sure do,” Tex said.

“He went after Nora alone, in the jungle, and fought Hezbollah single-handily fucking them over, and got intel in the process. That was amazing,” Flash said.

“I left the mission in your capable hands, and we got the win,” Tex said.

“Do you see where this is all leading?” Shark asked.

“He’d have to be as dumb as that log Tex made us carry after Shark had to be reschooled on what team really means,” Twister said.

“Yeah,” Easy said. “Shark was the poster boy for trying to be a lone wolf in a pack that knows how to correct that stupid behavior.”

Tex’s eyes, steady and searching, didn’t flinch. Instead, voice gruff with concern, he continued, “You’ve got some heavy-duty shit on your plate here, and I don’t just mean Quinn. Brian’s death happened in this city, just miles away from here. Quinn… she almost died today at the compound.”

The weight of Tex’s words pressed on Dagger like a physical blow. Memories of Brian, whose death had shattered him, swirled in his mind, each recollection a painful reminder of how things had spiraled out of control. The conversation was no longer just about the breach at the embassy site. It was about the cascade of losses and the responsibility that felt more like a curse than a duty.

Tex’s tone softened slightly as he continued, “You’ve been dealing with a lot since Brian was killed. Quinn’s breakdown, taking those boys away, your feelings for her, and the fact that she’s your brother’s widow. Those boys… they’re biologically yours.”

At that, even Twister couldn’t help but murmur in agreement, “Yeah, just a few things,” his voice tinged with both sympathy and quiet reproach. The rest of the team, hardened by their own battles yet capable of empathy, offered silent nods that stung more than any reprimand.

“We all know how it is to carry guilt and feel like there was something we could have done to change the outcome,” Shark said, “I was no different and it took some time before I could think of your brother without that heavy burden. But Brian’s death?” He shook his head, his throat working. “That wasn’t on us. Hard pill to swallow, but we weren’t involved with the planning of that distraction to get our guys into the prison and Astraea out. He gave up his life for Easy…” He swallowed hard. “Me…and the hostage, fulfilling his duty. When I heard what happened, I pretended that I didn’t hear Tex’s orders to return to the team.” He glanced at his CO. “I had to go after Ramos, and there was no way I was leaving Easy out to dry. No way.”

Tex acknowledged Shark’s words with a bow of his head, the understanding in his eyes carrying some heavy weight. Shark took a soft breath, relief rushing out with the air. “We all loved him, man.” His voice wavered, breaking. “We all felt his death keenly, and we all mourned with you for you, those boys, and Quinn’s loss.”

Inside, Dagger felt the familiar fortress of control beginning to crumble. His belief that if he let his guard down, he’d lose the people he loved had always been his shield. He thought that had been reinforced when Brian was killed, but now he was reassessing all of that.

His brother’s death wasn’t his fault, and he wasn’t responsible for carrying the weight of Quinn’s grief, and denying himself love didn’t undo the past. Dagger wasn’t involved in that mission. He didn’t plan it, didn’t execute it, so it wasn’t about his physical strength, speed, or intelligence. It was about being out of the loop, uninformed, powerless. That’s what destroyed him, not failing in action but failing to see it coming. It applied to Quinn, too. He didn’t just lose Brian. He lost Quinn and the kids. Her grief and anger pushed her into self-destruction, and he had to step in and take the kids. He felt like he lost her twice. First to her grief, and then to her resentment toward him. It fueled his need for control. If I’m the one making the calls, if I know everything, if I’m the one standing between danger and the people I love, then I won’t lose them. “I thought keeping my distance would protect them.”

Tex’s face softened in the same way he looked at his wife. “But it’s not distance that keeps people safe. It’s showing up, Kade.”

Hearing all this, standing before Tex and his team, the truth gnawed at him. It wasn’t his responsibility to carry Quinn’s grief or to believe that distance would keep those he cared for safe. The realization cut deep. If he continued holding back, he wasn’t protecting anyone at all.

“Get your head out of your ass, Dagger. You want to be her shield, fine. But don’t you dare make this about your guilt instead of the mission.” Tex’s words hit Dagger like a freight train.

He could take a page out of Tex’s book. He never coddled, but he was always with them, an officer who waded into the thick of it all right along with the men he commanded. He pushed hard, but even when he had to take the heat from the brass, he always had their backs. It drove home to him that he was letting his emotions overshadow his duty. He’d taken an oath, and he was part of a team. He didn’t have to go this alone. That attitude adjustment sank in hard. Tex leaned in, his next words both an accusation and a lifeline. “What do you hope happens with Quinn, Dagger?” The question was direct, leaving no room for evasion.

Dagger clenched his jaw, trying to deny it all. To keep pretending this wasn’t about him, that he wasn’t selfish enough to want Quinn for himself. But the words stuck like a blade in his throat, because the truth was a wildfire he could no longer contain.

After a heavy pause, Dagger’s voice, uncharacteristically soft, replied, “I want her to be happy. To be healed. I want her to get her boys back and be their mom, and for her to move on.” There was an undeniable tremor in his tone, a crack in his facade as an unflappable warrior.

Tex’s gaze narrowed, almost challenging him, “With you?”

In that moment, the vulnerability in Dagger’s admission was laid bare. He’d kept his distance, convinced that control meant safety. Yet here, in the presence of men who had seen their own scars and losses, he felt that distance had only cost him more. The team, many of whom had found love or embraced fatherhood, offered quiet, understanding looks. Their silent solidarity spoke volumes, making him look at himself as a reflection not only of his own inner turmoil, but these men he’d fought with, laughed with, and unequivocally had their backs every step of the way. So, it was his turn to allow them to have his back in not only combat, but this, his love for Quinn tying him up into knots that even a sailor had trouble unraveling. It was also a chance for Dagger to confront the self-imposed chains of guilt and fear.

“What about her kids? They’re more than your nephews,” Tex asked. “As a dad, it’s intimidating to hold those innocent lives in your hands and worry that you’re doing a shit job.”

“I’ve protected them…that’s all I felt I could do.”

“You can’t just be the guy in the shadows making sure they’re safe, Kade. They need more than that.”

“What if I’m not enough?”

“You think being a father means never letting them see you bleed? That’s not strength, Kade. That’s fear.”

Bondo said quietly into the silence. “You show up anyway. You do the work because that’s what they need. Just you.”

As Tex spoke about the heavy burdens of fatherhood and responsibility, even Bondo’s few supportive words, reinforced the idea that leaning into one’s vulnerabilities wasn’t a sign of weakness but of growth. For the first time in a long while, Dagger felt the stirrings of possibility, and maybe showing up, really showing up, for those he loved could be the way to truly protect them, perhaps even to start healing himself.

“Get some rest. We’ll regroup at 0600 tomorrow, assess whether Quinn is ready to tackle the embassy site again, and go from there.”

Dagger walked over to Shark. “Thank you for what you said.” He glanced over at Easy and Shark’s gaze followed, his throat contracting. Losing Easy would have been devastating to the team. He was their heart and soul. If he’d been in Shark’s shoes, he would have done the same thing.

His voice fierce, Shark just said, “We are brothers.” They fist bumped and Easy’s lazy smile made them smile back.

He left the briefing room and walked to Quinn’s door, using her key card to enter. She was where he left her, sleeping peacefully. Relief rushed through him again as he stared at her, but the weight of it all hit harder than it should have. His knees buckled, and he let himself sink against the wall. For the first time in years, he wasn’t standing guard. He was just…there. Tired. Fractured.

But the past didn’t care about exhaustion.

It slammed into him with full force.

"What are you doing here? Don’t you understand I don’t want to see you?"

His head snapped up, his throat closing. The words were so angry, so visceral, that his heart stalled. He saw her there, sleeping, peaceful, untouched by the moment gripping him, but in his mind, she was right in front of him.

Her furious, ravaged face filled his mind, her voice shaking with rage and grief. Then his own voice, final and wrenching.

"It doesn’t matter what you want now. I’m taking the boys with me. You’re obviously not in any condition to care for them. If things don’t change, Quinn, I’m filing for custody.”

She flew at him, fists clenched, her anger a physical thing. The first blow hit his chest, but the second caught his jaw. He barely staggered, catching her wrists in his grip, holding her firm but carefully, so damn carefully, because he was so much stronger than her.

You’re not taking them away from me, too, she screamed, struggling. She twisted free, and before he could stop her, her palm cracked across his face. The sting of it barely registered, but the pain in her voice did.

He exhaled, tipping his head back for patience he didn’t have. He wanted to rage. He wanted to yell at her for making him do this, for putting him in a position where he had no choice.

"They’re only five years old, and they’ve lost their dad, and their mom is wallowing in her own pain. When was the last time they bathed? Ate?"

She blinked. Turned away. The fight in her collapsed. A shudder ran through her, a sob catching in her throat before she crushed her lips together.

He let go of her wrists, and she didn’t even move.

He sighed heavily, shoving a hand through his hair. His chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with her fists. He turned, grabbed Ezra and Elijah’s small backpacks, their shoes, their favorite stuffed animals, the tiny pieces of their childhood he was stealing from her, even if it was for their own good.

Behind him, Quinn slid down the wall, covering her face with her hands as a terrible, wrenching sob tore from her.

God, he wanted to console her, to fix this, to fix her, but she didn’t want him near her.

It was useless to stay. Useless and painful.

The sound of her excruciating cries followed him out the door.

Dagger’s breath was unsteady as the memory faded.

That moment had scored him.

Now, standing here, looking at Quinn sleeping peacefully for the first time in years, it was too easy to believe they were okay. That they could have something real.

But they weren’t finished with the ghost that was the key to everything.

Brian was still here. Between them, inside Quinn’s heart, lingering in the spaces Dagger would never touch.

He was so terrified that Brian would always be between them. That he would never truly have her heart and soul the way he wanted her.

That no matter how much he loved her, a part of her still belonged to his brother.

His own shit paled in comparison to that destructive, unbearable thought.