Page 96 of Without a Trace

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He lifted his glass. “Yeah. Don’t tell anyone.”

My eyes drifted to Rhett. “What about you?”

He took a sip before answering. “I don’t know. Something normal. Maybe a mechanic. Or a bartender. Something with my hands.”

Alden snorted. “You would’ve made a terrible bartender.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah, but the tips would’ve been insane.”

I turned to Trace. “What about you, Maddox?”

He didn’t flinch. Just shifted, elbows on his knees, firelight catching on the edge of his face.

“I’d still be here,” he said, voice low. “Still be finding ways to orbit you.”

The fire popped.

I stared into the flames, my voice quieter now. “I’ve been trying to put two and two together. Ever since the plane… the way you talk to each other. The way you move, guard each other, watch the exits even when you’re pretending not to. You’re all in something.”

No one jumped to deny it. Just silence. So I did what I always do, I pushed.

“You all ever regret it?” I asked, voice quieter now. “Joining. Staying.”

Alden stared into the fire like it owed him an answer. “It’s not about regret. It’s about surviving what you chose.”

I leaned back on my hands, eyes narrowed. “So what is it? This thing you’re all in. What’s it actually called?”

The silence that followed wasn’t casual.

Trace glanced up from the waterline but didn’t turn around.

Rhett shifted, suddenly interested in the fire again.

Something cold moved along the base of my spine.

I’d seen it.

Not out loud. Not clearly. But it had been there.

Scrawled in black ink on the corner of a file Zeke was reviewing on the plane. Whispered in the way Kane stiffened when someone mentioned an order. Murmured in Trace’s sleep, maybe—unless I’d imagined that part.

A pattern I hadn’t been able to name until now.

Alden took a slow drink, then met my eyes. “You already know.”

I tilted my head, voice softer. “Say it anyway.”

He exhaled. “The Hollow Order.”

It echoed between us sacred. Cursed.

I nodded once.

Didn’t say another word.

Because it felt like something I’d always known.

And I didn’t know why.

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