Page 98 of Lost Hope

While the blessed moisture melted in his mouth, his fingers drifted to his chest again, exploring the foreign object that had been nagging at his fuzzy consciousness. A chain, and a cross, substantial but not heavy. His thumb traced the contours, finding smooth edges worn by years of handling. The base was wider than the arms, tapering to clean lines that spoke of both strength and grace. Not ornate, but solid. The kind of cross a warrior would wear.

“What’s this?” he managed finally, fingers still wrapped around it. The metal was warm from his skin.

Maya’s expression softened. “It’s Christian’s. He wanted you to be safe.” She hesitated. “He’s been here every day, you know. Usually around dawn. Won’t leave until someone else shows up.”

The implications of that filtered slowly through Ronan’s drug-hazed mind. Christian Murphy—his half-brother who’d barely acknowledged his existence for nearly three decades—had not only given him his cross but had been standing watch over him. Like family. Real family. The kind that showed up when it mattered.

Something tight unknotted in his chest. They needed to clear the air between them before he left Hope Landing. Twenty-eight years of silence was enough.

“Richardson?” he managed finally. “Where do we stand?”

“Can’t shut the guy up.” Axel’s voice came from the doorway. He looked tired but steady, the haunted look from the explosions gone from his eyes. “The actual interviews are deeply classified. Not that that means a thing to Zara or Star or Ethan. Apparently, the man’s given up everyone involved down to the building janitors. Turns out survival instinct trumps everything when you’re facing multiple life sentences.”

He moved farther into the room. “Oh, and we’re all clear. BOLOs lifted. No more manhunts.”

Christian appeared behind him, tablet in hand. “The network’s falling apart. Richardson’s people are scrambling to make deals. The admiral’s been running operations non-stop, coordinating with agencies in three countries.” He grinned. “Got some interesting intel about your fever, too.”

Ronan tried to sit up, but Maya’s hand on his chest kept him down. “What?” he asked.

“It wasn’t the result of your wound. Kenji was on top of that from the minute you got shot. They dosed you,” she said, and there was steel under the exhaustion in her voice. “At the reception. Low-grade bioweapon. Richardson’s insurance policy. If things went south, he wanted to make sure at least one of us went down.”

Christian looked like he wanted to murder someone. “Man figured he’d bargain for his freedom. The antidote for his escape.” He scraped a hank of hair back off his face. “Idiot.”

“The man always did like to hedge his bets,” came a familiar voice. The admiral stepped into the increasingly crowded room, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but somehow more alive than Ronan had seen him since they’d met. “Of course, he didn’t count on your doc, Kenji, having experience with this particular compound.”

Ronan’s head was swimming again, but for different reasons. “So it’s really over?”

The admiral opened his mouth to respond, but Ronan barely heard him. Maya’s hand was still in his, and suddenly that was all he could focus on. Three days of fever dreams had clarified some things. Important things. Things he needed to tell her before?—

His vision wavered slightly. Still not at full strength.

Griff filled the doorway. Something in his expression made Ronan’s stomach tighten. He knew that look.

Maya must have sensed it too. She squeezed his hand once and stood. “We should let you rest.”

“Wait.” His voice was still rough. “Don’t—I mean, we need to talk. Before you go. Promise?”

Her eyes softened. “Promise. I’ll be back.”

The others filed out, leaving him alone with Griff, who settled into the chair Maya had vacated. For a long moment, neither spoke.

“Copenhagen,” Griff said finally.

Just the word made Ronan’s chest tighten. “We don’t need to?—”

“Yeah, we do.” Griff leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I can’t keep hiding behind you on this. I took the shot. Whatever comes from that, I’ll face it.”

“I was trying to protect you. As commander, I would have gone down anyway. No reason for two of us to suffer.”

“I know. But carrying this lie ...” Griff shook his head. “It’s time to set it straight. Not officially, if you insist, but the team deserves to know.”

It would change how they looked at Griff. The man had to know that. And yeah, judging from the pain creasing his face, he did. But okay. Really, it was Griff’s right to insist.

Ronan closed his eyes. When he’d claimed responsibility for the shot, he’d thought he was doing the right thing. He never imagined the weight he’d place on his friend’s shoulders. “You’re right. But I want you with me when we tell them.” He gestured at his hospital gown. “We’ll do it first thing, once Kenji lets me wear grown up clothes again.”

“Thank you.” Griff’s voice was quiet. After a pause, he added, “So. Maya?”

Ronan opened his eyes to find Griff studying him with a knowing look.

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