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8

Beatrice

I was halfway through scrubbing Mike’s muddy paw prints off the kitchen tile when I felt it.

That ripple in the air.

Like a storm about to hit.

I turned just as someone knocked on the back door.

Not hard.

Just one solid, deliberate knock.

I looked through the window.

Raven.

And he wasn’t smiling.

My stomach clenched.

I wiped my hands on a towel and opened the door.

He didn’t step in.

Didn’t speak.

Just looked at me.

And I knew.

He’d figured something out.

* * *

“I ran into someone today,” he said finally. “Name’s Connor Slate.”

The floor felt like it tilted beneath me. If he hadn’t reached out and grabbed me, I would have fallen.

I’d spent years forgetting that name. Pretending that part of my life never existed. My government used me. They used me to do their dirty work. And when it was over, they ignored me—treated me like they had never heard of me.

I tried burying it. But it wouldn’t stay buried.

Slate had been a handler. A recruiter. A closer. The kind of man who operated in the grayest part of black ops. Last I heard, he’d gone off-grid after a compound fire in Guatemala—one I barely made it out of.

“You know him?” Raven asked.

His voice was calm.

His eyes were not.

I didn’t answer.

He stepped forward, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him.

“I looked him up,” he continued. “I saw the photo of that compound. I saw the symbol. Same one that was on the woman’s hand in the warehouse.”

He paused.

“Same symbol you saw. Same one you didn’t describe to me.”

I turned away, wrapping my arms around myself like I could block the memories clawing to the surface.

“You need to walk away, Raven. I don’t want you getting mixed up with these monsters.”

“No.”

I faced him, pulse pounding. “You don’t understand. This isn’t a case or a cartel hit. This is something else. These people aren’t just criminals. They’re... trained. Covered. Dangerous.”

“So are we,” he shot back.

“It’s not just me they’ll come for. They’re evil. They do the dirty jobs for the same people who work for our government. They murder people without blinking.”

His voice dropped to a near growl. “They already came for you. And now they’re here. In my backyard. Do you think I would let anyone hurt you? Hell no, I won’t. No one is getting near you.

I swallowed hard, trying to hold on.

But his next words shattered me.

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Damn it, I care for you.”

Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Charged.

Raven stepped closer. His jaw tight. “Tell me the truth, Beatrice. All of it.”

I stared up at him.

I wanted to lie.

God, I wanted to lie.

But I was tired.

Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of pretending I wasn’t terrified every time I turned a corner. Tired of praying that they would leave me alone. I was nobody. Why couldn’t they leave me alone?

I exhaled.

And said the words I hadn’t spoken in six years.

“I used to work undercover for the government. It was mostly the CIA.”

Raven didn’t even flinch.

Of course he didn’t.

He just nodded once. “Good. Now we know what we’re dealing with.”

I blinked. “That’s it?”

“For now.”

I stared at him. “You’re not going to ask why I left?”

“I’m not going to ask you anything until you’re ready to talk,” he said, then added, “But when you are… I’ll be right here.”

My throat tightened.

Because I believed him.

And that was the most dangerous part of all. I didn’t want him to get involved in this horror of mine, where he could get killed.