Page 104 of Hide From Me

“Moe’s military,” she says, then quieter, as if she hates saying it. “But it’s not what you think. Not the Army. Not the Navy. Not the CIA. Seaborn is different. Deeper. They work in the shadows. And right now? He’s not on a business trip. He’s on a mission. A real mission. And it’s dangerous.”

I sink into the chair, my legs weak. The room seems to tilt.

“Moe’s a soldier,” I whisper, hoping that if I say it softly enough, it won’t change everything.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because hecan’t.Civilians aren’t supposed to know. Ever. If that line gets crossed, it’s life or death. You knowing this much? It changes everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I have to call Caspian,” she says, her voice strained.

“No. Please don’t. Laura, I’m begging you.”

“I’m sorry, Ray. I have to.”

And then she hangs up.

The phone slides from my hand, clattering to the floor. I don’t even look at it.

The world’s spinning too fast now. Moe’s gone. On a mission I didn’t even know existed. Laura’s part of it. Caspian’s the one pulling the strings. And me?

I’m the idiot who signed her name without reading. Who didn’t realize she was stepping into a war.

Twenty-Five

Moe

01-24-2026

Extraction Point

“Alright! Two hostages. An unknown number of hostiles. Let's make this a clean in-and-out—no casualties and minimal injuries.” Jon's voice roars over the headset, cutting through the relentless thump of the blades above us like a warning shot. The rotor wash howls through the open bay doors of the chopper, rattling the hull so violently that it feels like the whole thing is coming apart at the seams.

We’ve only been airborne for fifteen minutes—fifteen minutes of vibrating metal, the smell of fuel, and the shriek of radio chatter drilling into my skull like a jackhammer. My pulse thrums in time with the rhythm of the blades, fast and pounding, making it impossible to tell if it's the altitude, the noise, or my fraying nerves lighting me up from the inside out.

One more sound—one more voice—and I’m going tosnap.

“You mean no casualties onourend, Cap?” Delilah's voice crackles through the line, light and playful in a way that doesn't suit the situation. I glance over at her, disoriented for a moment.

What the hell?

She’ssmiling. The same woman who, just earlier, threatened to shoot my kneecaps for sneezing too loudly is now grinning like we’re on some amusement park ride with a glint in her eye that looks almost…excited.

I don’t get it.

Or maybe I do. Perhaps it’s the same reason my own blood is singing beneath my skin—the promise of a fight. The clarity that comes when you have a target and permission to act. No questions. No doubt.

King's voice cuts in, dry as sandpaper. “I hope you don’t mind a little blood,Belästigung.”

Nuisance. Good try, jerk. I added German to my language app just to spite him.

I bare my teeth in a grin, syrupy sweet but with a blade’s edge. “I don’t know. I tend to get squeamish at the sight of red. It makes me hear voices and stuff.”

He lifts a finger, about to dive into one of his lectures—likely on discipline or focus—but Jon interrupts him.

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