Webb. Yet again.
“Shit,” I mutter, showing Shadow the screen.
“Answer it,” she says. “Maybe you can get more info.”
I swipe to answer, forcing my voice to sound professional and appropriately shocked. “Webb? What the hell is going on? I just heard the news—”
“Damien!” Webb’s voice is frantic, higher-pitched than I’ve ever heard it. “Thank God you answered. I’ve been trying to reach you…Claire, too. It’s Harrison. He’s…fuck, he’s dead.”
“I heard,” I say, pulling the car into the slow lane. “Jesus, Laurence, how did this happen? Was it really just an accident?”
“No, it fucking wasn’t!” Webb’s voice cracks. “That’s classified information. They found a device, Damien. Some kind of explosive device attached to one of the tires. This was an assassination. Someone murdered the Secretary of Defense.”
Shadow’s eyes widen as she catches Webb’s words through the phone.
“An explosive device?” I repeat, making sure Shadow hears. “Are you sure?”
“Bomb squad confirmed it twenty minutes ago. Small, precise, designed to cause exactly this kind of ‘accident.’” Webb’s breathing is ragged. “It was triggered so that the rear of the vehicle – exactly where Harrison was sitting - would take the full impact. Damien, I need you and Claire to get your asses to Sentinel Security immediately. Full briefing in one hour.”
I feel Shadow’s hand grab my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh even through my shirt.
“Of course,” I manage to say. “We’ll be there.”
The line goes dead.
The airport is just up ahead.
This changes things.
Then I glance over at Shadow. Unfortunately, some things are still very much the same. I hate that hollow look in her eyes. It fucking kills me because there is nothing I can do to change it.
45
Shadow
It feels like Groundhog Day.
Here I am again, walking through the airport terminal with my bag slung over my shoulder, boarding pass clutched in my hand. The same fluorescent lights buzz overhead, the same announcements echo through the speakers.
Except this time feels different. It feels final. It feels harder, somehow.
Fury walks beside me. Every step we take toward my gate feels like a countdown. I want to stop walking, to grab his hand and run in the opposite direction, but I can’t.
“Here we are,” Fury says quietly, checking the departure board.
I nod. There’s a lump in my throat that won’t shift, no matter how many times I swallow. I’m working hard at staying cool, calm, and collected. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. But right now, that control feels like it’s hanging by the thinnest of threads.
We approach the security checkpoint, and I force myself to go through the motions. I show them my ID and boarding pass. Then I put my bag on the conveyor belt and walk through the metal detector, collecting my things on the other side.
Fury meets me beyond security. We walk in silence toward my gate, the distance between us carefully maintained.
Part of me wants to beg him to…to what? To save me? He’s already done that. Twice. Maybe I want… I…it… I can’t.
The truth is, I don’t want to go back to Draig Island. But I can’t stay here either.
More than anything, I don’t want to lose him. He’s come to mean so much to me. I fought it and I failed.
All too soon, we arrive at my gate. The lady behind the counter looks up as we approach, her professional smile in place.