Page 11 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

The ghost in her living room had a face Zara had memorized in dreams and nightmares alike.

She stared at Finn Novak, cataloging the changes seven years had carved into him.

The ugly bruise beneath his eye was fresh, obviously.

So whatever he was up to, it wasn’t good.

New lines bracketed his eyes—deeper, more pronounced than memory allowed.

A scar, thin and white, bisected his left eyebrow.

His frame carried additional muscle, distributed with the fluid grace of someone who lived in constant motion.

Alive. Breathing. Real.

Her finger trembled against the trigger—not from fear but from the violent collision of muscle memory and moral restraint.

The shot pattern that would incapacitate without killing, while something darker whispered how simple it would be to adjust two inches left and end him permanently.

She’d killed before—always sanctioned—but never with the personal rage that now threatened to override years of ethical conditioning, and her moral compass.

What terrified her wasn’t how easy it would be to pull the trigger, but how much she wanted to.

Seven years of disciplined compartmentalization threatened to shatter as she recognized the man whose death she’d mourned, whose betrayal she’d buried, whose absence had redefined her.

The Glock remained steady even as her certainties crumbled.

The ghost in her living room had a heartbeat. Despite everything he’d done, some traitorous part of her was relieved to see it.

His hands stayed visible on his thighs—acknowledging the threat while showing no fear. His gaze shifted from her face to the weapon and back again with infuriating calm.

She stared him down. “I want an answer, Finn. Now.”

That half-smile appeared—the one from Paris. “You look good, Zara. Better than good.”

“And you look awful.” She jutted her chin at his eye. “Ten seconds. Explain why you’re here before my team busts in.”

“You haven’t called them yet.” Statement, not question.

She rolled her eyes. “Not even you could be stupid enough to try manipulating me again.” The bitterness surprised even her, escaping before she could contain it. No. She hadn’t called them. Yet.

Years of carefully constructed walls hadn’t prepared her for this moment. She’d imagined finding him alive countless times during those first dark months—fantasies where she’d be calm, collected, immune to his presence. Now reality mocked those delusions.

His scent—that distinctive blend of cedar and something uniquely him—triggered sense memories she’d thought she successfully buried. The muscle beneath her eye twitched with suppressed emotion while her mind cataloged contingency plans.

His eyes locked with hers, all pretense gone.

“What I did to you was unforgivable. One hundred percent. I’ll have to live with that the rest of my life.

But after Paris, I changed. I—” He paused, shaking his head.

“Never mind. The important thing is, I turned on Cipher. I’ve been hunting him ever since, destroying what I could of his network. ”

The casual mention of Paris cut deep. “Playing hero now? Career change from thief and manipulator?” She kept her voice flat, disguising how her stomach churned with competing instincts—to shoot him, to interrogate him, to demand answers for every sleepless night she’d endured.

“Never claimed to be a hero. But yeah, I’ve changed. What happened in Paris—what I did to you—forced me to confront truths I’d been avoiding.”

A humorless laugh nearly escaped her lips.

How convenient his moral awakening had come after using her access codes to steal classified intelligence.

After leaving her unconscious in that hotel room.

After letting her believe he’d died in that explosion while he reinvented himself as—what? Some vigilante hero?

The audacity was staggering.

“Skip the redemption speech. Why are you here?” She needed facts, not emotions. Evidence, not the confusing cocktail of rage and relief fighting for dominance inside her.

“Cipher’s back. And you’re in his crosshairs.”

The statement connected too neatly with the threats, sending ice down her spine.

Her pulse quickened, though her aim remained perfectly steady—a physical contradiction that mirrored her internal conflict.

The possibility that he was telling the truth whispered through her defenses, undermining her certainty.

“Nice try. Cipher’s been inactive for years.” Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“Not inactive. I’ve been disrupting his operations.” Finn’s posture remained deliberately non-threatening. “He’s deploying resources I haven’t seen before—Vanguard. Elite mercenaries with cutting-edge tech.”

The calm, factual delivery triggered her analytical mind, even as another part of her cataloged how different this Finn was from the charming, seductive man who’d breached her defenses in Paris.

This version was harder, more focused—the playfulness gone from his eyes.

It was easier to hate the version she remembered than this stranger wearing his face.

“So he targets me now because ... what? Computer help? Old grudge?”

“He’s planning something big. Something requiring your skillset—breaching supposedly impenetrable systems. A system called Sentinel Network.”

The name registered like a fingerprint on classified glass. “Nice story. Any actual evidence?”

“His team tried to grab me today. Three operatives, coordinated attack during the parade.” Finn reached slowly into his jacket, telegraphing every move before withdrawing a small object. “Vanguard’s identifier. There’s serious black-ops tech inside.”

The stylized compass rose pin was unmistakably a suspected Cipher connection from old intelligence briefings. Her heart contracted painfully. If he was lying, it was the most elaborate, researched lie possible. If he wasn’t ...

“Check your phone,” he continued. “There were three localized electronic disruptions today. Signal jamming technology, classified and advanced.”

The threatening message replayed in her mind. You‘ll receive your assignment in the morning.

Not random. Specific. Her life had started unraveling precisely when Finn Novak returned from the dead—either the most unlikely coincidence or the most dangerous truth. She kept her expression neutral, refusing to let him see how thoroughly he’d shaken her foundations—again.

“You could have approached me directly, you know, like a grown up.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Right. Your team would have pounded me before I said ‘Hello.’”

“Exactly.”

He ignored the jibe. “I couldn’t approach you in public, either. Public contact would confirm to Cipher’s surveillance that we’re connected.”

“So you invaded my home instead.”

“Came to leave a warning only you would understand. Never meant to fall asleep.”

Zara calculated escape routes, threat assessment, and optimal firing positions—all while the emotional fortress she’d spent seven years constructing threatened to collapse from within.

Each heartbeat seemed to chip away at carefully maintained walls, revealing raw wounds that had never truly healed.

She forced her breathing to remain measured, refusing to let Finn glimpse the hurricane behind her eyes. “Tomorrow morning. My team. Full disclosure, all evidence. If they verify your intel, we discuss options.”

“Zara—”

“Non-negotiable. I don’t trust you. Can’t trust you. But I won’t ignore a credible threat, regardless of the messenger.”

He studied her, then nodded once. “Fair enough.”

“Until then, stay away from me and my home.” She gestured toward the door with a slight head movement, weapon steady.

Finn stood, hands visible. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. For Paris. For everything.”

“Like that helps.”

As he reached the door, he looked back. “Be vigilant tonight. Keep your weapon close.”

“Always do.”

“It really is good to see you, Zara.”

Then he was gone.

Zara maintained her stance for thirty seconds before lowering her gun. Reality slammed into her.

Finn alive.

In her home.

Possibly telling the truth about an imminent threat from one of the world’s most dangerous criminals.

She secured the door methodically, mind racing through implications and contingencies. For ten seconds—precisely ten—she allowed herself to feel everything: anger, fear, confusion, and betrayal.

Hot, seething betrayal.

Ten seconds. Then she locked it all away, reached for her phone, and got to work.