Page 67 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
The single word, sharp and challenging, nearly breaks my resolve. I turn to her, finding her chin tilted up defiantly.
"Roman is missing, potentially dead. That takes priority over... whatever this is."
Something flashes in her eyes. Not hurt—determination. "For now."
The elevator doors slide open, revealing the bustling command center. Cole stands at the main console, his posture radiating urgency.
Jax glances up as we enter, a fucking smirk spreading across his face. "Well, well. Did we interrupt something important?"
"Focus, Jax," I snap, but there's no real bite to it.
"Hey, I'm just saying—" he gestures between Alina and me, "you both look a little... windblown. Must be breezy up on that roof."
Asher snorts from behind his monitor. "Can we get back to the missing person now, or would you like to discuss the weather some more?"
I throw Jax a look that promises retribution later and turn to Cole. "What do we have?"
Cole's fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up a series of grainy images on the main screen. "Surveillance caught these near Pier 39. The figure matches Roman's height and build, but..."
I lean in, studying the blurry photos. The face is obscured, but something about the posture is familiar.
"Timeline?" I ask, forcing my mind to stay focused.
"Three days after he went dark," Cole confirms.
Alina examines the images, noting how her brow furrows in concentration. Part of me wants to smooth it with my thumb, to finish what we started on the roof. The other part—the Ghost part—knows exactly how dangerous that distraction could be.
"We need more," I say, frustrated. "This could be anyone."
Alina steps forward. "What if we work backward? Go through everything Roman was investigating before he disappeared."
I nod slowly, surprised at how closely her thought process mirrors my own. Roman kept much of his work close to the his chest, but there might be something we missed.
"That's not a bad idea."
"Don't sound so shocked," she throws back, the cornerof her mouth lifting.
From across the room, Jax makes a whipping sound. I shoot him a glare that promises painful training sessions in his immediate future.
"Sorry, boss," he grins, not looking sorry at all. "Just observing that our journalist seems to be picking up the patterns faster than some of us."
"If you put half as much energy into the mission as you do into commentary, we'd have found Roman already," I retort, but there's no heat behind it. The team needs these moments of levity.
"Alright," I announce, bringing everyone back to focus. "Let's do a deep dive into Roman's files. Everything from the past six months gets a fresh set of eyes."
I lock eyes with Alina. "Think you're up for some serious document analysis?"
She straightens, an amused glint in her eye. "Born ready. Point me to the files."
"I'll work with you," I say, ignoring Jax's exaggerated eyebrow waggle behind her. "The rest of you, split up Roman's digital footprint."
Twenty minutes in, we're surrounded by documents, electronic files projected on tablets, and physical folders stacked on the conference table.
"Wait," Alina says suddenly, her hand freezing over a weathered manila folder. "What's this?"
She pulls out a faded photograph, holding it up to the light. My breath catches. It's Roman in a crisp naval uniform, his face unlined, eyes bright with purpose.
"I've never seen this before," I murmur, taking the photo from her. Our fingers brushing. "Roman rarely talked about his Navy days."
