Page 55 of Code Name: Grit

“Something doesn’t add up,” I muttered more to myself than the others.

“What do you mean?” Grit asked.

I hesitated, suddenly aware of all the eyes on me. The intensity of their attention made me reconsider sharing my half-formed theory. “Just thinking out loud,” I replied, stepping back from the display.

Dante crossed his arms. “The Belcastros want to find you before the Patriarcas do. That’s all this is.”

I nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself. I couldn’t put my finger on what was nagging at me, but pushing any point would only invite more skepticism.

Admiral turned to Dragon. “Keep monitoring all communications. I want to know every move both families make.”

“What about the current field operations?” Grit asked. “Do we maintain surveillance?”

“Limited operations only,” Admiral decided. “We observe from a distance until we better understand what we’re dealing with.”

I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to argue. Two days of restricted movement was our agreement, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use that time productively.

The meeting adjourned shortly after, with the security protocols established. Two K19 operatives would be on my detailat all times. All movements within the compound would be monitored, and no outside communications would be permitted without encryption.

I waited until everyone dispersed before approaching Dragon. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“I know this sounds crazy, but it’s almost as if…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

“As if, what?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. It was silly. But I’ll know it when I find it.”

For the rest of the day, I pored over every piece of intelligence we had on the Belcastros, working quietly with Dragon and occasionally Alice. Neither asked me directly what I was searching for, and I didn’t volunteer my thoughts.

By late afternoon, Grit found me in the analysis room, surrounded by digital case files and intercepted communications.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb. “Find anything?”

I didn’t look up. “Not yet.”

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “I’m concerned, Lumi. You haven’t taken a break, haven’t eaten.”

“I’m fine,” I said, scrolling through another document.

“No, you’re obsessed.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “I get that you’re frustrated about the lockdown?—”

“This isn’t about the lockdown.” I finally looked at him. “Something about the Belcastros’ behavior doesn’t make sense, and nobody seems interested in figuring out why.”

“Of course we’re interested. Everyone in the other room is trying to understand what’s happening.”

“No, you’re all trying to hide me away while you figure it out.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended.

Grit’s expression hardened. “That’s not fair. We agreed on two days.”

“We did. But the way everyone’s acting, it might as well be two years.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting to being treated like an asset to protect instead of someone with valuable insight.” I gestured at the screens around me. “I’ve spent my entire life understanding these people, their motivations, how they operate. But the moment there’s real danger, I’m suddenly too compromised to be trusted with my own safety?”

“No one’s saying that,” Grit countered, frustration evident in his voice. “But you can’t deny that you have a personal stake in this that might be affecting your perspective.”

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