Page 87 of Undercover Infidel
“Because it is right.” I turned her in my arms, framing her face with my hands. “You belong here, Lex. With me.”
Her smile held a certainty that matched my own. “Withyou,” she agreed.
We stayed on the battlements until the cold drove us inside, planning our future amid the stars that had witnessed centuries of Carnegie history. Whatever challenges the remains of Labyrinth might pose, whatever missions might call us away, we would face them with one certainty—we were bound by something stronger than duty or profession. We were bound by love.
As we descended the stone steps, Lex’s ring caught the moonlight, sending prisms dancing across the ancient walls. I thought of all the Carnegie brides who had worn it before her, and knew with absolute certainty that none had been more worthy.
Blackmoor had found its countess, and I had found my match.
EPILOGUE
LEX
The bronze hands of the antique library clock ticked past zero seven hundred hours as I surveyed the newly renovated operations hub beneath Blackmoor Castle. One month had transformed both this space and our lives. Where Con’s workstation had once dominated the center, dual command positions now stood as equals.
“Mrs. Thorne outdid herself with breakfast,” Con said, entering with two steaming mugs. He moved more fluidly now, his recovery from Inverness nearly complete. Only the occasional stiffness when he reached for something revealed the lingering effects of his wounds.
“You spoil me,” I replied, accepting the tea. My engagement ring caught the light as I wrapped my fingers around the mug. I’d learned that six generations of Carnegie brides had worn it before me. The weight of that history had been intimidating at first, but with Con’s insistence, I’d finally accepted I belonged here.
“Second thoughts?” he asked, noticing my contemplation of the ring.
“Never.” I brushed my lips against his. “Though I’m still adjusting to being called ‘countess’ by your staff, given I’m not yet.”
“Soon enough, my love.” His smile reached his eyes in that way that still made my heart skip. “Though none of my ancestors married an MI6 weapons expert.”
“Progressive of you.”
Con laughed, settling into his chair. “The modifications to the comms array are complete. We’re ready for the briefing.”
On cue, the lift hummed to life. Moments later, Tag emerged, followed by Gus, Ash, and Sullivan. They’d made this journey from their respective castles for one purpose—Nightingale.
“Good of you to host,” Tag said with his customary gruffness.
I activated the main display with a touch. “Before we start, there’s something I need to share.”
All eyes turned to me as I brought up the forensic data I’d been analyzing for the past fortnight. “None of the remains recovered from Orlov’s facility match Dr. McLaren’s genetic profile or dental records.”
Sullivan leaned forward. “You think she survived?”
“I don’t believe we can rule it out.” I advanced through several images showing the destruction. “The explosion created multiple exit routes through collapsed walls and ventilation systems. If she knew the facility well enough…”
“She could have escaped during the chaos,” Ash finished.
Con’s expression remained neutral, though I knew he’d harbored suspicions about McLaren’s fate since we discovered the absence of conclusive evidence.
“If she’s alive,” Gus asked, “whose side is she on?”
A fair question with no simple answer. McLaren had helped create Labyrinth, then claimed to have sabotaged it when she realized Orlov’s true intentions. Her final actions had saved countless lives—but her initial choice to develop the technology remained troubling.
“We may never know her true motivations,” I admitted. “But we should operate under the assumption she may resurface.”
Tag nodded grimly. “Add her to the watch list. Now, about Nightingale…”
He took over the display, bringing up communication intercepts and travel records. “Threesightings in the past week, all in Eastern Europe. The latest puts her in Prague, moving east.”
“Voluntary or coerced?” Con asked.
“Unclear.” Tag highlighted a surveillance photo—grainy but recognizable as the missing agent. “She appears unrestrained, but there’s always someone within five meters of her.”
