Page 33 of Shadow of Misty Mountain

I raise an eyebrow. “Control freak much?”

“Absolutely.”

I can’t help the small smile that pulls at my lips. It fades quickly, though. Because we both know what’s coming. And neither of us is ready for what it might cost.

“So,” I ask, voice quiet. “What’s the plan?”

Travis turns, already shifting into SEAL mode. “First, we get the journal. We confirm what’s in it. Then we make noise. Put you somewhere visible. Not flashy. Just enough to stir interest. You’re right; Carlton’s got to be watching. He’ll take the bait.”

“And then?”

“Then I end this.”

The finality in his voice sends a chill down my spine.

“I want to be there,” I say.

“No.”

“Travis.”

He cuts me a look. “You’re the bait, Abby. You don’t get to be the knife.”

“I don’t need to be the knife. I just need to see him fall.”

He considers that, then nods. “Fine. But when I say get down, you drop.”

“Deal.”

We stand in silence for a long moment, the weight of everything pressing in. I’ve never done anything like this before. Never gone head-to-head with someone who has a kill list—much less one I was on. Never been a pawn in a game I barely understood.

But I’m not scared. Not really. Because I’ve got Travis. And I’ve got Nick’s words ringing in my head:‘Trust him.’

Nick was right. I do.

But this isn’t about trust anymore. It’s about justice.

“You’re sure Carlton is still CIA?” I ask.

Travis’s jaw clenches. “Not officially. Guys like Carlton—they slip between shadows. He’s not in the system anymore. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t active.”

“And no one’s stopping him?”

“There are people looking the other way,” Travis says, and there’s so much disgust in his voice it makes my stomach churn. “He has leverage. Or money. Or both. He’s been running ops off the books for years.”

“And Nick knew?”

“Nick found something. My guess? We discovered that the person we were sent to extract wasn’t a defector. He was bait. Carlton needed us gone. Nick figured it out too late.”

“And now I have the last piece.”

Travis nods once. “Which means we either use it… or bury it for good.”

My fingers curl into fists at my sides. “I’m not burying anything… except maybe Carlton.”

“Didn’t think you would,” he says. “That’s why I’m going to make damn sure you walk out of this.”

I meet his eyes. “Only if you do too.”

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