Page 57 of Code Name: Grit

His mouth gaped. “I won’t apologize for wanting to keep you safe. God, Lumi, after last night?—”

“Don’t make this about last night,” I spat. “This is professional, not personal.”

“Seriously?You’re gonna play that card?”

“This isn’t a game, Grit. It’s my life.”

Our eyes remained riveted while I waited for his response. When he spoke, what he said was not what I expected. “Will you be okay tonight?”

“I’m fine.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’d like to stay,” he said quietly.

“Why?”

The hurt that flashed across his face made me regret my harshness, but not enough to take it back.

“Because I care about you,” he said simply.

“I need time on my own,” I replied, unable to meet his eyes.

“I understand.” He moved toward the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, I hope there’s more to this than what we’re seeing.”

After he left, I returned to the window, watching the moon’s reflection ripple across the lake’s surface. My mind raced with conflicting emotions—frustration at not being able to articulate my suspicions clearly, hurt at being dismissed, and a growing certainty that I was missing something crucial.

His accusation from our argument echoed in my head. “Your history with them is exactly what’s clouding your judgment.” Maybe he was right, but not in the way he thought. My past wasn’t a liability—it was my compass. And right now, that compass was pointing in a direction no one else could see.

I pulled out my tablet and began analyzing the evidence more systematically. The Belcastros’ operations showed restraint in areas where they should be aggressively establishing control. They were maintaining visibility without maximizing profit.

As I worked through the night, one question kept returning: why would someone alert the Belcastros about the Patriarcas’ interest in me? And why would they respond with what appeared to be protective rather than aggressive measures?

If I could answer those questions, perhaps I could understand what the Belcastros were really doing in New York. But for now, I’d keep my theories to myself.

I’d spent my life staying one step ahead of these people. I could outthink them again.

15

GRIT

Morning sunlight sliced through the blinds, waking me from a fitful sleep. I’d tossed and turned all night in my own bed, unable to quiet my mind after Lumi and I couldn’t resolve our argument. My body protested as I stretched, muscles stiff from tension rather than rest. The physical discomfort was nothing compared to the weight in my chest.

I checked my phone: zero six hundred. The camp would begin stirring soon, but for now, silence reigned. I made my way to the kitchen, brewing coffee strong enough to shake the fog from my head. As I waited for it to finish, I stared out at the lake, replaying yesterday’s confrontation.

Lumi wasn’t wrong. Her insights about the Belcastros were valuable precisely because of her connection to them. But the thought of her in danger, of either them or the Patriarcas finding her... The images my mind conjured left me cold. Those hours in the panic room had revealed more than just desire; the idea of losing her was unthinkable.

But I also couldn’t protect her by stifling her.

“You’re up early.”

I turned to find Tank in the doorway, his expression neutral as he assessed my disheveled state.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, scowling at him.

“Anything to do with the tension between you and Lumi?” When I didn’t respond, he shrugged. “I’m not blind, Grit. Nobody here is.” He chuckled. “We’re supposed to be the best intelligence agents in the world, right?”

“Yeah, whatever.” I poured a second cup of coffee and handed it to him. “It’s complicated.”

“Always is.” He accepted it and leaned against the counter. “But that’s not why I was looking for you. Dragon picked up chatter overnight. Belcastro activity has spiked across the city.”

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