Page 12 of Code Name: Grit

Two more black SUVs pulled up to the gate, and my breath caught as a familiar figure emerged. “That’s Cassio’s personal security detail.”

My father, not that I really thought of him that way, stepped out of the second vehicle. I stared at his face, noting the features we shared—the same arch to the eyebrows, the same angle to the jawline. It was like looking at an older, masculine, hardened version of parts of myself.

Years of studying photos hadn’t prepared me for seeing him in person. The set of his shoulders, the commanding gesture of his hands—I recognized hints of myself in each movement.

“Lumi.” Grit’s voice held a warning. “Don’t even think about it.”

How easily he’d read me. I certainly wouldn’t approach him, but I’d definitely thought about it, albeit in an alternate universe.

“I’m not,” I responded, unable to tear my eyes away from Cassio Belcastro.

Despite everything I knew about him—his cruelty, his crimes—part of me couldn’t help wondering what might have been. Would he have protected me if he’d known I existed? Would I have been just another piece in his criminal chess game? The questions I’d carried my entire life refused to stay buried as I studied him.

“He’s not known to get this close to the action, unless?—”

“Unless it’s a message.” Grit was definitely closer now. “We need to pull back.”

“Not yet.” I tracked Cassio’s path across the terminal. “Five more minutes. I need to see where he’s heading.”

“Lumi—”

“Please, Grit, trust me.” I kept my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “I’ve spent my whole life watching men like him. I know when to run.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, I saw him shift into a better position to cover me.

Even from this distance, I could read the tension in Cassio’s shoulders as he spoke with Marco. Nothing about this meetup made any sense to me. Like I’d said, something was off, but I had no idea what.

Marco handed Cassio what looked like building plans, he studied them intently, then pointed toward the eastern section of the terminal—the high-security storage area.

Movement in my peripheral vision made me freeze. A guard I hadn’t accounted for was walking the upper level, scanning rooflines.

“Time to go,” Grit said quietly.

This time, I didn’t argue, retreating seconds before the guard’s gaze swept past my previous position.

Only when we were safely out of harm’s way and in the SUV that would return us to the hotel that was our temporary base did I let myself process what I’d witnessed. My hands trembled as I stowed my gear, the reality of seeing my father, the man I’d spent my life avoiding, finally hitting me.

Grit’s hand caught my arm, turning me to face him. In the dim light, I could barely make out his expression. “You okay?”

I wasn’t sure I was. I hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction. “I’m fine,” I said, wondering if Grit caught how easily I lied.

His thumb brushed across my pulse point, catching the rapid flutter there. “Try again.”

I met his gaze, finding something there that made honesty feel less dangerous. “I will be.”

He held my eyes for a moment longer, then nodded. “That’s good enough for now.”

“What we saw back there—something’s up,” I said after a moment, needing to focus on something other than the emotional maelstrom inside me.

“Tank just messaged,” said Grit, checking his phone. “They’ve identified Belcastro crews moving on protection rackets in three neighborhoods tonight. And surveillance picked up two of their lieutenants entering their suspected gambling headquarters in Queens.”

“Interesting,” I said under my breath, still distracted by what I’d witnessed and, more, what it could mean. Why would Cassio be at the docks? Regardless of what might be in the containers due to arrive later in the week, his visibility was too far out of character.

“Atticus and Dragon are coordinating with headquarters back at Canada Lake,” Grit added. “They’re monitoring satellite and camera feeds across all five boroughs. Admiral’s pulling in every resource K19 has in order to maintain coverage while we’re in the field.”

“Good,” I said, staring out the window as we drove away from the terminal, unable to shake the feeling that everything was about to change.

The Belcastros were more aggressive than anticipated, Cassio was personally involved, and the man beside me was becoming increasingly difficult to keep at arm’s length.

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