Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Riley frowns, taps a quick check. Her diagnostics say it’s fine. But I don’t trust it.
“Riley,” I say, voice low.
“I know,” she says, already moving.
The drone tilts its nose and shoots toward the fuel truck like it’s found a target. Riley sends a kill command. The drone ignores it and speeds up.
“EMP ready?” I call.
My guy nods. “Charged.”
And then instinct takes over.
I grab Riley and pull her down, cover her with my body, one arm over her head. She’s tense but doesn’t fight me this time. My chest is pressed against her back. I breathe in the scent of her—coffee, solder, something soft underneath it all. My pulse steadies because that’s what I do.
I protect.
“Now,” I call.
The EMP pops like thunder. The drone twitches, folds, crashes into the snow just feet from the fuel truck.
Silence.
Then the laughter—nervous, relieved, real.
“You okay?” I ask softly, still not moving.
She nods under me, stiff with adrenaline. I help her up. My hands stay on her longer than they need to. She doesn’t seem to mind.
“Whoever did this,” she mutters, “owes me a new subroutine and a court-martial.”
“I want front-row seats,” I say.
Security moves fast. Chen’s barking orders. The drone gets bagged for evidence. Riley kneels beside it like she’s mourning a fallen soldier.
“It used one of my override commands,” she says quietly. “But not the way it was meant to. Someone rewrote it.”
“You get anything off the logs?”
“Maybe. I’ll try. Even scrambled, I’ll find the shadow.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Thank you. For saving me.”
I don’t say “always,” but it’s implied.
Back at the lab, Security's already waiting. Clipboards. Forms. Suspicion.
Chen grounds the program while they investigate.
Riley stiffens. “Fine. Ground it. But I’m not locked out. If I’m going to prove I didn’t do this, I need access.”
Chen looks at me. I nod.
She gives the go-ahead. “Hawthorne stays with her.”
Security doesn’t like it. I do.
We’re barely ten minutes into analyzing the drone data when Riley’s phone buzzes.
She barely glances at it—then freezes. Her entire expression changes.
“What?” I ask.
She doesn’t speak. Just flips the phone so I can see.
A photo. Us. On the range. Me covering her with my body.
CALL IT OFF OR WE MAKE IT WORSE.
Another message. Her code. Corrupted.
WEAR YOUR SEATBELT, RILEY. LOTS CAN SPILL.
I take the phone out of her hand. Gently. Her fingers graze mine, and it hits me all at once—how wrong this is. How someone dared to threaten her.
“They have my number,” she says quietly. “I hate that more than I hate cheddar cheese.”
Her voice shakes. But only a little.
I place the phone down carefully. “Here’s what happens next. The program’s grounded. But I’m not going anywhere. We find whoever did this, and I make sure they regret it.”
“You’re very… intense when you’re reassuring someone,” she says, eyes lingering on my mouth just long enough for my heart to take notice.
“I’m not trying to reassure you,” I say. “I’m giving you the plan.”
She exhales. “And if I said I hate plans?”
“I’d say you can hate them. Just do it behind me.”
She looks at the photo again. Her voice is small but steady. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stand there.”
I shift to place myself between her and the door. Her eyes follow. Her lips twitch like she wants to smile.
Outside, the wind howls against the hangar like it’s trying to get in.
Someone out there thinks they’ve scared her.
They haven’t met me.
I send a single line to the group chat:
ME: Sabotage confirmed. Program grounded. Threat to Riley. I’m staying close.
The thread lights up instantly.
NASH: On standby.
MACK: Gimme names.
SIN: Don’t let her out of your sight.
BANKS: Buy her soup. Pretty girls love soup.
JACE: Trust your gut.
COLT: Keep her safe. Bring her home.
I put the phone down and look at Riley.
“We’re going to find them,” I say.
She nods slowly. “And then?”
I step closer. Close enough to feel the heat of her. “Then I do what I’m good at,” I say.
Protect. Fight. Destroy the threat.
And maybe—if she lets me—hold on to something good for once.
FOUR
RILEY
I never thought I’d feel weird about someone putting my phone in a pouch.
But here we are.
“Is that... a Faraday bag?” I ask, watching Crewe seal the flap like he’s locking away classified launch codes instead of my phone. “That’s the nerdiest piece of spy gear I’ve ever seen.”
Crewe’s expression doesn’t change. He just tucks the pouch into the glove compartment like it’s routine. “Nobody pings you while we’re en route.”
“You know, if you wanted an excuse to make me go off-grid, you could’ve just asked for my attention like a normal guy.”
“I’m not a normal guy.”
Fair.
He shifts the SUV into gear, and we pull out of base housing with only my essentials packed in a canvas go-bag: laptop, charger, hoodie, toiletries, three stress balls, and a backup pair of glasses I haven’t needed in a year but packed anyway. Just in case.
Crewe doesn’t talk much on the drive. That’s okay. I talk enough for the both of us.