Page 51 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
My hand hovers above the keyboard. What can I possibly say that won't raise more questions? I settle for something simple.
Working on a big story. Might be out of touch for a few days. Don't worry. Love you all.
I hand the phone back to Ghost, and he nods, pocketing the phone.
"Get some sleep, Alina. You're safe here." The way he says my name—like he's tasting it—makes my stomach flip.
As he turns to leave, I ask one more question. "Ghost... is that really your name?"
He pauses in the doorway, looking back at me with an expression that's both warning and promise. "It's the only name you need to know."
fifteen
Kade
Istand in the living room of our Oakland Hills safe house. Damian leans against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Asher, despite his bandaged wounds, maintains the alertness of a seasoned operator while sitting on the couch.
Jax perches restlessly on the arm of a chair while Xander keeps watch near the window. Remy and Cole flank the doorway, completing our circle of lethal capability.
The tension in the room is palpable. I can feel their eyes on me, questioning. I know what they're thinking—I've been acting different since Alina came into the picture.
I clear my throat. "We need to talk about our next steps. And about Alina Bennett."
Jax raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement crossing his face. "The journalist? What about her? Besides the factthat she's got you breaking your own protocols left and right."
"I think we should bring her in. Her investigative skills could be an asset."
Xander snorts, pushing away from the window. "An asset? Or are we talking about other assets that have you distracted?" He makes an hourglass shape with his hands.
"Careful, Chaos," Damian warns, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you want to keep those hands attached to your wrists."
I level a look at Xander that immediately straightens his posture. "If you're finished, I'd like to discuss the tactical advantages of having an investigative journalist with connections throughout the city on our team."
The room falls silent and I continue. "She's already neck-deep in this. Her friend's death is connected to what we're investigating. Her mind works differently than ours. And she's proven she can handle herself in a fight."
Cole steps forward, tablet in hand. "While I appreciate your sudden interest in recruiting, Ghost, I've run the numbers. Bringing a civilian into our operation increases our operational risk by approximately 65%. Those aren't odds I'd bet on."
Asher leans forward, wincing slightly. "Ghost, you and I have seen plenty of civilians with potential wash out in Echo. Remember that diplomat's daughter in Kabul? Thought she was ready for field work until the first gunshot."
"This isn't Kabul," I counter. "And Bennett isn't some diplomatic brat playing spy. I saw her in action at the dim sum palace. She analyzed the situation, created a diversion,and neutralized a threat without hesitation. Those aren't skills you pick up writing newspaper articles."
Jax spins a throwing knife between his fingers, a habit when he's thinking. He grins. "Got to give it to the lady—she's got balls. Metaphorically speaking."
"She's resourceful," Remy adds thoughtfully. "During the extraction, her breathing barely elevated despite the circumstances. That kind of stress response is unusual for civilians. Either she's unnaturally calm or she's had training we don't know about."
Damian pushes off from the wall, his movements predatory even in the confined space. "Or she's playing us. Have we considered that? Her convenient appearance at the warehouse, her connection to a case that overlaps with ours. Seems like a hell of a coincidence."
"I've considered it," I acknowledge. "But my instincts say she's genuine. And Roman always said—"
"Trust your gut, but verify with your brain," Cole finishes for me. "I've run background on her three times. Everything checks out. Her history, her credentials, her connection to the Martinez girl. If she's an op, she's the deepest cover I've ever seen."
Xander paces the room. "So what's the plan? We just bring her into the fold, show her all our secrets, and hope she doesn't write a Pulitzer-winning exposé that sends us all to prison? Cause I gotta tell you, prison orange clashes with my complexion."
"We control the information flow," I explain. "She gets what she needs to help us find Roman, nothing more."
"And what about her? What does she get out of this arrangement?" Damian asks, ever suspicious.
