Page 65 of Lost Hope

Zara nodded, her gaze on her own bank of monitors. “Same with the West LA facility. Plus they upgraded their system recently. Better resolution.”

“We’ll need all of it.” Ronan eyed the group. “Every frame from both Mike and Kate’s visits, plus any footage we can find from the other clinics Marcus investigated.”

Star was already typing. “Pulling emergency backup servers now. They know we’re closing in. If they’re altering records?—”

“They might have missed the security footage,” Lawrence finished, nodding. “Basic detective work. People always forget about the cameras.”

“We’ll work in shifts,” Jack decided. “Cross-reference everything. Medical staff, orderlies, anyone who had contact with the victims on Marcus’s list.”

Griffin stood abruptly. “I’ll take first shift.”

Maya caught the look Ronan and Axel exchanged. None of them liked the edge in Griffin’s voice, but they needed answers.

Maya touched Ronan’s arm lightly. “Take a break. I’ll start the first review.”

He studied her face—the concern there wasn’t just professional anymore. “You picking up profiling habits from your dad?”

“No.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Just getting better at reading you.”

The moment stretched between them until Deke cleared his throat. “Before we dive in, might be good to take five. Say a prayer for Marcus. For all of them.”

Griffin’s shoulders tensed. “Prayer didn’t save those vets.”

“No,” Deke agreed quietly. “But it gave Marcus the courage to act when he saw something wrong. Sometimes that’s all we can do—recognize evil and stand against it.”

Ronan felt the weight of those words. He’d spent years putting barriers between himself and faith, between himself and connection. In hindsight, that might have been the wrong choice.

31

MIDNIGHT INTEL

The coffee burned her throat,but at least it gave her hands something to do besides shake. Maya was five cups deep into the night, riding the edge between caffeine jitters and post-firefight adrenaline crash. Eight hours since the warehouse. Since the gunfire and the running and watching Ronan take that hit. The memory made her chest tight all over again.

The massive command center felt oddly intimate with just the core team remaining. Ethan and Christian maintained their silent vigil at the bank of monitors while Griffin wore a path in the carpet behind them. Ronan hadn’t moved from the satellite feed station in over an hour, though Maya caught him watching Griffin’s pacing in the screen’s reflection. Her father and Victoria had taken up positions at the conference table, presumably to review evidence, though they seemed more interested in trading meaningful glances when they thought no one was looking. The others had been ordered to rest, leaving the night shift to those too wired or worried to sleep.

Her dad’s soft snoring broke the silence. He’d dozed off watching Victoria work, his face softer than Maya had seen it in years. Even in sleep, he angled toward the journalist like a flower tracking the sun. Ronan’s mom, with her sharp wit andflowing scarves, somehow managed to look elegant even after hours of crisis. Maya ran a hand through her own practical bob, feeling the sweat-stiff strands. She’d never been that kind of woman. Never sparked that kind of fascination in men. She was all clean lines and quiet competence, like the moths that visited her apartment’s porch light—drawn to brightness but forever in the shadows of more brilliant creatures.

She shifted in her chair, every muscle screaming. She’d never run like that before, never felt such pure animal terror mixed with fierce determination. Her palms still stung from catching herself on concrete, and her shoulder ached where she’d slammed into a wall during their escape. But they’d made it. They were alive.

The command center’s blue-tinged quiet felt surreal after the chaos. Maya watched faces flicker past on her monitor, fighting exhaustion. She was starting to understand what had drawn her father to this life—the razor’s edge of purpose and danger, the rush of facing impossible odds. The way it forged bonds nothing else could touch.

Maybe that’s what he saw in Ronan’s driven mom. That spark of shared danger and purpose that Maya had always been too careful, too controlled to chase. She’d built her life around being reliable. Dependable. The steady one who kept the wheels turning while others chased excitement.

But today had changed something. Running for their lives, heart pounding, every sense razor-sharp—she’d felt more alive than in all her years of careful planning.

Her gaze drifted to Ronan across the room. Even injured, he radiated that quiet authority she’d noticed from minute one. But now she understood it better. She’d seen him in action, maintaining control even while bleeding, getting his team out safely. The kind of leadership her father used to talk about,back when she was young enough to still hero-worship his war stories.

A movement caught her attention—Ronan shifting in his chair, trying to hide a wince. Her chest tightened again. The image of blood spreading across his sleeve was still too fresh. For the first time in her life, she understood the kind of fear that could make someone reckless. The kind that made you forget about being careful and controlled.

“You should rest,” she said quietly.

“I’m fine.” But he met her eyes, and something passed between them in that look. Understanding. Concern. Maybe something more.

A sharp chime cut through the quiet.

“Got something,” Ethan called from his station.

Maya moved to look, very aware of Ronan doing the same. Their shoulders brushed as they leaned in. On the screen, a grainy image showed a man in blue scrubs loading samples into a van.

---