Page 38 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)

LUNA PULLED INTO A PARKING SPOT at the Kingdom Gym and cut the engine. Now that she was here, she wished she hadn’t eaten breakfast. What lay ahead wasn’t sitting well with her.

This wasn’t her first undercover operation. Far from it. But it was the first time she’d be going in with Corbin. With someone who knew her.

Or at least, had known her once upon a time.

She forced a deep exhale, willing her heartbeat to slow. “You’ve got this, Luna. Just another mission. Just another cover.”

But it wasn’t just another cover, was it? This time, it was personal. This time, it was about finding Trinity. About uncovering the truth behind Stryker’s disappearance. About facing a past she’d spent years running from.

Jett’s sleek Tesla pulled up beside her, and he lifted four fingers off the steering wheel in a wave.

She stepped out of her car at the same time Jett did. “Morning. You’re here early.”

Jett’s smile was wan, the exhaustion evident in the lines etched around his warm, brown eyes. Dark circles underscored a sleepless night. “Lots to do. You ready for this?”

Ready? Was she ever truly ready? She squared her shoulders. “As I’ll ever be.”

They went inside. The gym, usually alive with the sounds of exertion and the sharp tang of sweat, was subdued this early. Still, a few people pounded away at the heavy bags and others ran an endless path on the treadmills. The thud-thud-thud and whirring had a rhythmic comfort.

Blade emerged from the office, a stack of folders tucked under one arm. “Conference room, five minutes.” A taut professionalism replaced his usual easygoing demeanor.

Luna nodded, making her way to the small kitchenette. She needed coffee. Lots of it. Black and strong, just the way she liked it. Just the way she liked everything in her life. Controlled. Predictable. No fuss.

As she waited for the pot to brew, her mind wandered to Corbin. How would he handle this? He was a good agent, no doubt. But undercover work ... it was a different beast entirely. One slip, one tell, and the whole operation could come crashing down around them. And he had a weakness. Her.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Luna jumped, sloshing her freshly poured coffee on the counter. Tori stood in the doorway, thumbs tucked in the back pockets of her jeans, her gaze assessing.

“Just ... preparing.” She forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt.

Tori’s gaze softened. “Ay, mija, it’s okay to be nervous, you know. This ain’t no ordinary day at the office.”

“I know. It’s just...” She wasn’t nervous. Not really. Fictional characters, inventing a life, faking her appearance—that’s who she was. It wasn’t Corbin. But she couldn’t say that. “There’s so much riding on this, Tor. If we mess this up...”

“Hey, we’ve got you.” Tori’s hand on her arm was warm. Firm. “All of us. We’re in this together, a’right?”

That was the problem. Luna was taking a huge risk relying on her friends for this covert operation. She used to have an entire network of analysts, tech specialists, and field operatives at her disposal. Even so, she’d been responsible for people dying. And that was the true source of her unease.

Rather than insult her friends with those forebodings, she patted Tori’s shoulder and said, “Thanks, girl.”

They filed into the conference room, a small, windowless space that reeked of stale coffee.

The others were already there, seated at the oval table.

Harlee sat in a high-back leather chair and swiveled herself an inch to the right, then an inch to the left.

Blade paced back and forth, his hands tucked in his pockets, jingling coins or maybe keys.

She sat beside Corbin at the far end of the table.

A few hairs curled slightly at his forehead.

He wore a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the familiar lines of muscle, the strength that had always drawn her to him.

Even after all these years, all the pain, all the distance . .. he still had that effect on her.

Jett cleared his throat. “All right, let’s get started. We’ve got a lot to cover and not much time.” He tapped a few keys on his laptop, the screen illuminating his face with a colorful glow.

A series of images flashed on the TV mounted behind him. “I’ve created comprehensive cover identities for both of you,” he said, nodding to Luna and Corbin. “Meet Alexander and Lorelai Sinclair, power couple extraordinaire.”

Luna’s heart skipped a beat at the name. Lorelai. She’d used that name on a mission in Prague years ago. The familiarity of it sent an icy ripple through her chest, but she kept her expression neutral. No need to complicate things further.

She studied the images, impressed by the level of detail.

Bank statements, social media profiles, even a wedding photo that looked eerily real.

Not that she’d wear that dress—not the point.

How had Jett managed all this in such a short time?

Maybe their cloak-and-dagger lifestyles weren’t so different after all.

“Alexander.” Jett’s attention locked onto Corbin. “You’re a thirty-five-year-old tech mogul. You made your fortune in blockchain technology and have since branched out into philanthropy. Your net worth is estimated at around $500 million.”

“Nice.” Corbin nodded. “And the medical condition?”

“Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. You’ll refer to it as HCM. It’s a condition where the heart muscle becomes abnormally thick, making it harder for the heart to pump blood. You were diagnosed two years ago, and your condition has been deteriorating rapidly over the past six months.”

The gravity of their cover story hit her anew. They weren’t just playing dress-up. They were stepping into the shoes of people facing a life-or-death situation.

“Now, let’s go over the symptoms you’ll need to portray,” Jett said, switching the slide.

“The primary symptoms of HCM include shortness of breath, especially during physical activity. You’ll need to appear winded after minimal exertion.

Chest pain is another common symptom, particularly during exercise.

You might occasionally wince or press a hand to your chest.”

Corbin nodded, jotting down notes. “What else?”

“Fatigue is a big one,” Jett said. “You should appear tired most of the time, like simple tasks are exhausting. Palpitations are also common. You might occasionally put a hand to your throat as if you’re feeling your pulse racing.

” Jett demonstrated. “In severe cases, which is what we’re portraying, there’s a risk of fainting or even sudden cardiac arrest.”

Luna watched as Corbin absorbed the information, already seeing him start to embody the role. His posture changed. A slight slump to his shoulders made it appear as if he carried an invisible weight.

“Lorelai, you’re a former model turned philanthropist. You’ve been married to Alexander for seven years, and you’re desperately searching for a way to save his life. You’ve exhausted all conventional treatment options, which is why you’re turning to the Chiron BioInnovation Center.”

She could work with this. The desperation of a wife facing the loss of her husband ... it wasn’t so different from her own desperation to find her daughter and her mentor.

“What about security measures?” she asked. “Extraction plans?”

Blade stepped forward. “We’ve set up a series of fail-safes. You’ll both be fitted with covert communication devices. State-of-the-art, undetectable by standard security scans. Harlee?”

Harlee produced a small case, opening it to reveal what looked like flesh-colored erasers. “These babies are top of the line,” she said. “They’ll allow you to maintain constant contact with us without raising suspicion.”

Luna examined the devices, impressed. Almost as covert as earpieces she’d used in her days with the Agency. “Drawbacks?”

“They operate via Bluetooth connected to your cell phone, same as what the Secret Service use.”

“So as long as we have cell coverage, we’re good to go,” Corbin said.

Blade nodded. “We’ve also set up a series of code words. If either of you feel that your cover is compromised or that you’re in immediate danger, use the phrase ‘clear skies ahead.’ That’ll trigger an immediate extraction.”

“And how exactly will that extraction work?” Corbin asked, voicing the question on Luna’s mind.

“I’ll be leading a team on standby at all times,” Blade explained.

“Two blocks from Chiron, there’s an abandoned warehouse.

We’ve set it up as our command center. The judge is ready to sign off on our warrant, but he needs something to tie Chiron to the trafficking victims or proof of illegal activities inside the facility.

Once you have something concrete, we’ll have probable cause to get the warrant. Tori?”

Tori stood up, spreading a map across the table. “I’ve mapped out multiple escape routes,” she said, her finger tracing lines across the paper. “We’ve accounted for various scenarios. On foot, by car, even a helicopter extraction if things get really dicey.”

Luna studied the map, memorizing the routes. It was good. Thorough. But would it be enough?

“What about inside the facility?” she asked. “Do we have any intel on the layout?”

Jett shook his head. “Limited. We’ve got blueprints from when the building was first constructed, but we have to assume they’ve made modifications. You’ll need to gather that intel once you’re inside.”

Luna nodded, her mind already cataloging potential choke points and security measures they might encounter.

“Now,” Jett said, his tone shifting, “let’s talk about your backstory. You’ll need to know each other inside and out. Any inconsistencies could raise red flags.”

For the next hour, they drilled. Favorite foods, how they met, vacation spots, family history. Every detail of Alexander and Lorelai Sinclair’s lives was scrutinized and memorized.

As they wrapped up the briefing, Corbin pulled Luna aside. “Can we talk for a second?”