Page 42 of The Shadow Code (Heroes of War #3)

A s they turned off the main road onto a narrow, stony lane, wisps of mist curled low around the Rover’s wheels.

The road had narrowed to little more than a dirt track.

Up ahead, the shape of an old farmhouse emerged; half-drowned in fog, its tiled roof was just visible over the rise.

Somewhere beyond it, the sea whispered against shingle – slow, constant, inexorable.

Jack killed the headlights and let the engine idle before cutting it entirely. The Rover ticked as it cooled. Silence settled; thick, expectant.

A figure appeared ahead, stepping from the shadows beneath an overgrown hawthorn tree. Collins. His coat slick with rain, fedora pulled low. Jack opened his door and approached, with Ellie close behind.

The man kept his voice low. ‘Swan’s in position. Tucked behind the far wall, south-east side. Saw movement. One figure outside, maybe a patrol. Lights on inside. No visuals on the professor.’

Jack gave a curt nod. ‘Anyone else?’

‘Couldn’t be sure. Looks like they’re packing up because something’s shifting.’

Jack glanced towards the house. ‘Hold your position. If they move, notify me. No action unless I say so.’

Collins nodded once and then melted back into the dark.

‘This could be it,’ Ellie said, trying to steady her breath.

Jack didn’t reply. His eyes stayed fixed ahead. ‘Or another decoy.’ Then he turned to her, voice low, edged with steel. ‘Stay put. They’re armed, and I can’t watch out for you.’

Ellie gritted her teeth, but caught the warning in his eyes, the flicker that said don’t argue . She gave a tight nod, and slid back into the passenger seat, watching as he strode off down the lane.

The stillness pressed in, fog hugging the car, the windows beginning to mist. With the engine off, the interior was cooling fast. She pulled her coat tighter and strained to hear the voices in the distance.

A shout then the clatter of crates toppling.

Her breath hitched. Jack was in there, moving through the shadows, cornering Granville, maybe walking into a trap.

Another minute crawled past. Just as the silence became unbearable and she reached for the door handle, the driver’s door swung open. Ellie jolted, heart thumping and she froze.

Sinclair slipped into the driver’s seat, damp with mist, his jaw shadowed with a day’s growth of stubble.

‘I had to see you,’ he said, pulling the door shut. Cold air rushed in with him. ‘Before it’s too late.’

‘You shouldn’t be here. If Granville spots you—’

‘He’s already in motion. You needed to know.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘I never stopped watching. Just couldn’t afford to be seen.’

Her chest tightened, but before she could answer, a sharp tap on the window made her jump. Granville stood just inches away, wind ruffling his fair hair, revolver levelled at her temple.

‘Well, well,’ he drawled. ‘How cosy.’ He opened her door with chilling calm. ‘Out of the car. Now.’

She climbed out slowly and stood with her back to the Rover as Sinclair joined her, jaw tense. He moved slightly in front of her.

Granville’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t play the hero. We both know how that ends.’ He gestured with the gun and Sinclair stepped aside.

‘I was wondering when you’d resurface, Sinclair. Though I didn’t expect you to throw yourself at your little constable friend here.’

Ellie’s fists clenched. ‘You won’t get away this time.’

His smile was all menace. ‘Oh, but I already have. Your dear pa is on the move. You’re just a loose thread.’

He turned the gun on Ellie. ‘Start walking.’

She hesitated.

‘I said, walk .’ The words rang like iron.

Her feet obeyed before her mind did: one step, then another.

The cold air bit at her throat and every crunch of gravel echoed like gunfire.

Then a metallic click behind her. Her breath caught.

Was the gun aimed at her back or Sinclair’s?

She didn’t dare turn. Every muscle in her body tensed and her lungs refused to fill.

Granville’s footsteps followed, steady as a metronome.

In her mind, she saw his finger tighten on the trigger. Lord, where is Jack?

Sinclair lunged forward without warning.

‘Ellie!’

His arms collided with her, driving her sideways. She hit the ground hard, shoulder first, and the breath fled her lungs. CRACK . The gunshot split the fog.

For a beat, she thought it had missed. She pushed herself up, heart hammering, no pain except her throbbing shoulder. Then she saw him.

Sinclair lay crumpled on the ground, blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched his chest. ‘No!’ Her scream ripped through the night. Another shot cracked as Jack emerged from the mist, firing at Granville’s retreating form. Granville stumbled, then vanished behind the hedgerow.

Jack reached her seconds later. ‘Ellie!’

She was already at Sinclair’s side, pressing her hands hard against the wound. Blood welled between her fingers. ‘Stay with me,’ she whispered, tears blurring her vision. ‘Please.’

His blood was warm beneath her palms, but his skin felt cold as his fingers found hers, trembling and desperate.

‘Tangmere,’ he rasped, eyes locked on hers. ‘Next full moon.’ She leaned in closer. ‘U-boat. Shoeburyness. Half past …’ His grip loosened, lips parting in search of words that wouldn’t come.

Then his eyes went still, his final breath escaping soft as a whisper, like the sea folding back into the shore. The silence crashed over her like a wave. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No . No . ‘No!’

Jack slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘He’s gone, Ellie.’

She glanced at him through her tears, shaking her head, then back at Sinclair. She searched his vacant eyes for some flicker of him, but he had slipped away while she was watching. And he wasn’t coming back.

She barely noticed Jack gently prying her hands free from Sinclair’s shirt, the blood still warm between her fingers. So dark, red like wine. I never realised … how easy it is. Too easy.

She had seen dead people before, but never watched someone die. Not like this. Not in her arms.

Her breath came in jagged gasps as the fog wrapped around them like gauze. Jack dropped beside her, his hand steady on her back. ‘He saved me,’ she whispered. He’d given everything, not for the war, not for duty, but for her .

Behind them, the fog shifted. Granville was gone, but they had a lead. Shoeburyness, then Tangmere. And the clock was ticking.