Page 80 of Lost Hope

Across the table, Christian and Jack exchanged grim looks. Austin muttered something that sounded like a prayer. Deke’s usually calm expression had hardened into something dangerous.

“Well,” Griff drawled from his corner, breaking the heavy silence, “guess that explains why Pantone’s nowhere to be found. Man’s probably halfway to Moscow by now.”

“If he’s lucky,” Axel added darkly.

Kenji leaned forward, medical training evident in his precise questioning. “The biomarkers in those samples—they weren’t just for identification, were they?”

Star picked up the thread. “With this kind of data, they could create covers that would pass any DNA screening. Medical records, genetic histories, everything.”

Maya felt sick. All those veterans ... all those families thinking their loved ones had died of natural causes ... Or disappeared. She clenched her jaw, trying to maintain professional distance. But when Ronan shifted slightly, his arm barely brushing hers, she couldn’t help but react. Thetiny contact sent electricity through her system, and she hated herself for it.

Maya could practically feel the tension radiating off him. Which she totally shouldn’t even notice. What was she, thirteen?

Still, it was hard not to notice how ragged he looked. Worse than the rest of them, for sure. Of course, he was the only one who’d been shot. Christian’s little scratch hardly seemed to count. Yeah, Ronan was awfully pale. Beneath the table, she clenched her hands. The guy was an adult. If he needed medical attention, he could ask for it. Not. Her. Problem.

She forced herself to focus on the screens, on the data, on anything but the man beside her who could finish her sentences but couldn’t seem to look her in the eye anymore.

They had bigger problems than her broken heart.

Admiral Knight strode into the conference room, his presence immediately commanding attention despite his rumpled appearance. With his sharp, blue eyes and that distinctive weathered face, he looked exactly like his photos—a naval legend somehow crossed with a lived-in William Macy. The room stood.

“Commander Quinn.” The admiral extended his hand to Ronan. “Good to finally meet you in person. Your reputation precedes you.” His gaze swept the room, taking in the team. “All of you. Impressive work so far.”

Jack took point on the briefing, with Austin adding tactical details. Maya forced herself to focus on their voices, not on the way Ronan’s fingers drummed against his thigh when he was processing intel. A tell she definitely hadn’t catalogued. Because that would be ridiculous.

“So that’s where we are, sir,” Jack concluded. “The question is how to proceed with Sentinel. And Buck Richardson.”

The admiral’s face tightened at his friend’s name. He stood at the head of the table, hands clasped behind his back, silent for a long moment. Maya recognized the pose from a thousand military briefings—a commander weighing options, calculating risks.

“Pantone’s our key,” he said finally. “We find him, we get our answers about Richardson and everything else.” The admiral’s jaw clenched. “Where is he?”

“Give us an hour.” Zara’s fingers were already flying across her keyboard. “We’ve got partial traces on his digital signature, and I’ve got contacts in Cyprus who?—”

“Thirty minutes,” Star cut in, shooting Zara a competitive look. “Those routing nodes you found? They’re active. He’s moving money right now.”

“Twenty,” Ethan countered, already heading for the door. “The encryption’s good, but it’s not that good.”

Admiral Knight’s weathered face cracked into a slight smile. “I like your team, Quinn.”

“Sir.” Christian stood. “Permission to prep for immediate deployment? Austin and Izzy can help me get the aircraft ready while the cyber team does their thing.”

“Granted.” The admiral’s gaze swept the room one final time. “The rest of you gear up. The second we have coordinates, we move.”

Maya felt Ronan tense beside her again, knew he was about to speak before he even opened his mouth.

“Rules of engagement, sir?” Ronan asked, and Maya definitely didn’t notice how his voice got slightly deeper when he was in tactical mode.

“Bring him in. Alive.” The admiral’s smile held no humor. “I’ve got some questions for Mr. Pantone about my old friend Buck.”

The meeting broke up, people filing out with purpose. Maya gathered her tablet, hyperaware of Ronan still at the table, presumably waiting for her to leave first. The awkward dance of avoidance was getting old.

She turned toward the door just as he stood. They both stopped, caught in that weird space between leaving and staying, between speaking and silence.

“We should ...” she started.

“Maybe we need to ...” he said at the same time.

They both fell silent.

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