Page 72 of Lost Hope

FREEFALL

The van’sdoor slid shut with a bang that matched Ronan’s thundering pulse. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking—leftover adrenaline from watching Maya traverse that ledge, four stories up. He’d made the call. He’d told her to do it. And now the image of her balanced on that narrow strip of concrete was burned into his brain.

He’d done hundreds of ops, lost good operators, buried friends. But watching her out there, knowing he couldn’t reach her ... The fear had been different. Visceral. Personal in a way that terrified him more than any firefight.

Maya sprawled in the seat beside him, face flushed, eyes bright with triumph, clutching that stupid USB drive like a trophy. “Mission accomplished,” she said, her grin infectious, reckless. Beautiful.

He tried to return her smile, to share in her victory, but his chest was too tight. She’d done exactly what they’d trained for, executed it perfectly. So why couldn’t he shake this bone-deep dread?

Jack took a corner too fast, tires squealing. Ronan’s shoulder slammed into the van’s wall, sending pain shooting down hisarm. The physical pain was almost welcome—easier to handle than the emotional chaos threatening to overwhelm him.

“You okay?” Maya’s hand was on his arm, her victory-high instantly replaced with concern.

“Fine.” He wasn’t. Not even close. The image of her on that ledge was on repeat in his head. One slip. One wrong move. His good hand clenched into a fist. Years leading Special Forces ops, and he’d never felt this off-balance. This exposed. This vulnerable.

They’d practiced the maneuver at Knight Tactical Headquarters, but that had been different. Controlled. With safety gear and spotters. He’d never actually expected her to have to actually do it. Had never anticipated how it would feel to watch her take that risk, knowing all he could do was talk her through it.

“That,” Christian called from the back, peeling off his lab coat, “was some seriously impressive improvisation, Maya.”

“It was seriously something,” he muttered, before he could stop himself.

“The ledge was your idea, remember?” Kenji added, grinning.

“That was theoretical.” He clenched his jaw. “Not a fourth-story reality.” Not watching someone he was falling for risk her life while he sat helpless in a van. The thought hit him like a physical blow.Falling for her. When had that happened?

Maya’s triumphant smile faltered. “You’re the one who told me to use the window exit.”

“Because we were out of options.” His voice came out clipped, tight. Clinical. “Not because it was a good plan.”

“It worked.” But the victory had drained from her voice, replaced by something harder. More defensive.

“Children,” Jack’s voice carried from the driver’s seat, “save the lovers’ quarrel for later. Ethan, what did we get?”

Ronan’s gaze slid away from her face, down to her trembling hands. She’d been scared too, he realized. She’d just handled it better than he did. That knowledge should have made him feel better. Instead, it twisted something in his gut. She’d do it again. Without hesitation. It was who she was.

“Downloading now,” Ethan announced. “Wow. Maya, this is ... this is everything. Collection protocols, processing procedures, even a client wish list of orders ...”

“See?” Maya’s smile was softer now, just for him. “Worth a little ledge-walking.”

The intimacy in her expression punched him straight in the solar plexus. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t watch her take these risks, knowing how he felt. Couldn’t let his feelings compromise either of their safety. Some ugly tangle there.

“Next time, we find a different exit strategy.” His voice was flat, professional. Distant.

“Next time?” Her eyebrows arched. “Planning to get me into more trouble, Commander Quinn?”

“Planning to keep you out of it,” he muttered. The high of completing a successful op was wearing off way faster than usual, replaced by cold certainty. He had to shut this down. Now. Before it went any further.

“These two are worse than a Hallmark movie,” Christian stage-whispered to Kenji.

“Shut up,” Ronan barked, his sharp tone making Maya flinch. She studied his face, confusion replacing her earlier warmth. He forced himself to look away, to focus on the mission. It was better this way. Had to be.

35

CRUISING ALTITUDE

Half an hour later,the sleek jet had left the LA Basin far behind.

Maya leaned her head against the aircraft’s small window, watching the sun-bleached sky cruise past. The vibration of the plane’s engine thrummed through her body, matching the lingering buzz of adrenaline in her veins. She’d never felt anything like it—the crystalline clarity of action, the pure focus of mission parameters, the rush of split-second decisions that worked.

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