Page 85 of Code Name: Grit

Grit nodded. “Of course.”

“And I want it to happen soon, before I lose my nerve.”

“I’ll tell Admiral in the morning,” Grit said, pulling me closer. “We’ll set it up for two days from now. That gives you time to prepare and your mother to get here.”

“You’re sure you’re up for this? You’re still recovering.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’m fine. And there’s no way I’d let you face this alone.”

The next forty-eight hours passed in a blur of preparation and anticipation. I found myself vacillating between determination and terror, confidence and doubt. What do you say to the father you’ve never met? How do you begin a relationship that should have started at your birth?

My mother had trouble getting a flight at such short notice and wouldn’t arrive until the following day, but maybe it would be better that way.

Grit remained my anchor, steady and unwavering in his support. He never told me how to feel or what to think, just offered his presence and his strength when mine faltered.

The dayof the meeting arrived, and I found myself in the bathroom, staring at my reflection, searching for traces of Cassio in my features.

Grit found me there, his reflection appearing behind mine. “Ready?”

I leaned back against him. “No. But I’m doing it anyway.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispered.

The command center had been transformed for this meeting. The tactical displays were gone, replaced by comfortable seating arranged to feel less confrontational. Ranger and Diesel, from Shadow Ops, had established a security perimeter, though Admiral assured me it was merely precautionary.

“He’ll be here in ten minutes,” Dragon told me when we arrived. “He’s coming alone, as requested.”

I nodded, too nervous to speak. Grit’s hand remained steady on the small of my back, his touch grounding me as we waited.

When the door finally opened, I wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotion that hit me. Cassio Belcastro was taller than I’d realized, seeing him from a distance, his posture straight despite his age. His hair, once dark like mine, was now streaked with silver at the temples. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath—the same blue-green as my own, staring back at me with an intensity that seemed to see through all my defenses.

For a long moment, we simply looked at each other.

“Chiara,” he finally said, his voice rough with emotion.

The name—my name—in his mouth felt strange and familiar all at once.

“I prefer Lumi,” I managed to say.

A small smile touched his lips. “Luminous.It suits you.” He gestured to the chairs. “May we sit?”

Grit remained close as we settled into the arranged seating, his body angled protectively toward mine. If Cassio noticed, he gave no indication.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Cassio admitted, his hands clasped in front of him. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times since I learned of your existence, but now that we’re here…” He shook his head. “Words seem inadequate.”

“You could start with why you wanted to meet me,” I suggested, finding my voice stronger than I expected.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re my daughter.”

“A daughter you never knew existed.”

His expression shifted, a flash of pain crossing his features. “Your mother had her reasons for not telling me.”

The honesty in his voice surprised me. I’d expected denials, perhaps even anger at being kept in the dark for so long.

“Tell me about your life,” he said. “If you’re willing.”

So I did. Haltingly at first, then with more confidence, I shared pieces of my childhood—the constant moving, the false names, the vigilance that had become second nature. I told him about my education, cobbled together from tutors and correspondence courses. About learning languages because they might someday save our lives. About watching shadows and checking exits and never, ever feeling safe.

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