Page 25 of Throne of Secrets

“Yeah, yeah. I just figured we should finally introduce ourselves properly.”

Silence fell again, but that time, it was comfortable. Max wasn’t much for small talk, and Ethan appreciated that. Both of them could get lost in their own minds and then pick up a conversation hours later as though no time had passed.

Finally, Max spoke again. “I've got the systems covered here. You take care of the situation on your end.”

“Got it.”

“And may I give you a piece of advice?”

“Always,” Ethan said, straightening in his chair.

“Don't let her get away. The good ones always come with a little chaos.”

Ethan smiled as Star’s face flashed through his mind. Sue him. He’d memorized her wide, expressive eyes and the adorable wrinkle of her nose when she was thinking. God, when she rambled, her pure, infectious energy lit up everything she did.

“Yeah,” Ethan said softly. “I’m starting to realize that.”

“Don't treat the Mafia lightly, either,” Max said, his voice low and serious. “I'm not sure which family these guys are tied to—or if they’re some kind of freelancers. Get Guardian involved if you need to. Don’t take any chances. We need you behind the computer screens. That is where you’re most valuable.”

Ethan chuckled softly. “I’m here, and I think I’ll leave the chasing, shooting, running, and gunning to the others. I’m not a fool. But I can defend myself.”

A wicked sneer curled his lips as memories surfaced. His father had made damn sure of that. Ethan had grown up training in combat techniques most soldiers didn’t learn until advanced-level special forces courses. He was an expert marksman, capable of going toe-to-toe with the best Guardian operatives.

Sure, he left the fieldwork to others, but if someone came for him—or Star—he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d take the fight to them. Full force. No mercy.

He might present himself as a laid-back computer security specialist, but beneath that civilian cover was a Guardian agent with federal authority and the weight of the organization behind him. Being a Guardian wasn’t just a job; it was in his blood, woven into the very fabric of his DNA.

“Let me know how things go,” Max said, interrupting his thoughts.

Ethan snorted. “Like you won’t know the second it happens.”

“We tend to get the information first, don’t we?” Max chuckled.

“Always,” Ethan agreed. “And we ensure it’s routed to the right people at the right time.”

Silence followed, and then Max asked, “Are you fulfilled, Ethan?”

Ethan’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, and his gaze shifted to the screen. “That’s … an odd question.”

“Is your job fulfilling to you?” Max pressed.

Leaning back in his chair, he let the question roll around in his head. He wouldn’t answer flippantly—Max didn’t ask casual questions.

“Yes,” he finally said. “Yes, I’m fulfilled. I’m challenged, excited, and confident in my abilities. Do I sometimes long for more social interaction? No.” He gave a soft laugh. “I grew up on a mountain in a cave. I know how to be social when necessary, and I generally like people. But the isolation of this job doesn’t bother me. If I need social contact, I can get it.”

He hesitated, then added, “If you’re concerned that I’m going to walk away from Guardian—or this position—or the trust people have placed in me, rest assured, I won’t. I take this job seriously. People’s lives depend on us, and I’ll do everything in my power to make you and Archangel proud of me.”

The figure on the screen leaned forward slightly. For the first time since their collaboration began a decade earlier, Max’s face came into focus.

Ethan froze. “Mack, you bastard.”

“Max, actually. Or did you already forget?” This time, his voice wasn’t filtered.

“Years, dude. We’ve been working out and sparring for years, and you never said a fucking word.”

“Some things need to wait.” Max shrugged. “I needed to keep an eye on my charge.”

Ethan stared at the man on the monitor. His eyes were sharp. Razor-sharp. Ethan recognized the predatory glint—he’d seen it before in hardened Guardian operatives who’d lived in the field too long to relax, even in civilian settings. He’d thought it was Mack’s fight mode, but no … all the disjointed splinters of his life fell together. This man wasn’t just some computer genius. He was a warrior.

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