Page 61 of Deadly Hope
The fuselage shuddered again, but Axel barely noticed. Some turbulence you couldn’t escape, no matter how high you flew.
The harsh blue glow of a phone screen caught Axel’s attention. Across the aisle, Deke’s massive frame was hunched over his device, thumbs jabbing at the screen with uncharacteristic force. In the dim cabin lighting, the former SEAL’s expression was pure thunder.
“Whoa, Karen,” Deke muttered, deleting and retypingwhatever response he was composing. The phone buzzed again immediately. “You think I don’t know that?”
Another angry buzz. Deke’s jaw clenched. He glanced up, caught Axel watching, and tried to smooth his features. It didn’t work. After years of fieldwork together, Axel could read his friend too well.
“DJ?” Axel asked quietly.
“Who else?” Deke’s laugh was sandpaper-rough. “Karen says he’s smoking weed in his room. Skipping track practice. Told his guidance counselor he’s not applying to colleges next year because the whole system is rigged.” He rubbed his face hard. “She wants me to ‘do something about it’ during Christmas break. Like a couple weeks of forced family time is gonna fix fifteen years of—” He cut himself off, shoulders tight.
The phone buzzed again. Deke read the message and something vulnerable crossed his face. “Now the kid’s saying he doesn’t want to come for Christmas at all. Karen’s pushing it, but ...” He trailed off, staring at the screen like it might offer better answers.
“I remember when he used to wear my old BUD/S shirt to bed.” Deke’s voice was so low Axel almost missed it. “Wouldn’t take the dumb thing off, even when it was falling apart. Now he won’t even take my calls.”
The plane’s turbulence felt distant compared to watching one of the steadiest men he knew fighting for composure. Deke had walked into firefights with less tension in his frame.
“Two weeks,” Deke said finally, clicking his phone off. “If he even shows up.” He leaned back, eyes closed. “Some battles you can’t win with tactical planning, right?”
Axel had no answer for that. Sometimes there was nothing to say.
The heavy silence following Deke’s confession was brokenby a cheerful whistle from the cockpit. Even through the intercom, Ronan’s good mood felt jarring against the cabin’s somber atmosphere.
“Weather’s clearing ahead,” Ronan announced. “Should have us on the ground in forty-five.”
Kenji, sprawled in the rear jump seat with his tablet, made a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl. “At least someone’s having a good night.” His usual Zen demeanor had evaporated somewhere over Utah, replaced by an edge Axel rarely saw in their tactical specialist.
“Lakers blow another fourth quarter lead?” Voss asked, trying for light conversation.
“Don’t.” Kenji’s response was sharp enough to make Olivia flinch in the seat ahead of him. He caught himself, exhaled slowly. “Sorry. Just ... not tonight.”
The apology hung awkward in the air.
On any other night, the team would be trading barbs, planning their next group dinner, debating whatever sport was in season. Tonight, the easy rhythm that made them so effective in the field felt off-key, discordant.
From the cockpit, Ronan’s whistling continued—some pop song Maya probably had on repeat. The sound grated against Axel’s nerves like steel wool.
“Somebody please tell him to shut up,” Kenji muttered, jamming his earbuds in.
“Let him have this one,” Izzy said softly, still looking out her window. “At least one of us should get to go home happy.”
Griff’s voice came over the intercom, professional as always but with an undertone of concern. “Starting our descent in thirty minutes. Might want to buckle up—wind shear’s still active.”
As if on cue, the plane lurched. No one complained this time. Maybe they were all too tired to care, or maybe theturbulence outside just matched what they were feeling inside.
He noted how Olivia had quietly switched seats earlier to sit closer to Voss. They’d all seen the change in Voss too—subtle cracks in her professional facade, moments where the CIA analyst gave way to something more human.
It wasn’t definitive proof of the woman’s alliance, but it was a start. A whisper from the Lord that Axel wanted to take to heart.
“Incoming from Zara.” Griff’s voice crackled over the intercom, followed by their handler’s tense tone cutting through the cabin’s silence.
“They moved up the hearing a day,” she said without preamble. “Driscoll’s lawyers pushed for an expedited timeline. We’ve got forty-eight hours before the committee votes on his confirmation.”
The news landed like a gut punch. Deke swore softly. Kenji’s tablet slipped from his fingers.
“That’s impossible,” Olivia said. “The evidence review alone should take weeks.”
“Should,” Zara agreed grimly. “But money talks, and Driscoll’s got Congress’s ear. Every lead we had is growing cold. Without concrete proof linking him to James’s investigations ...”
