Chapter 9 - The Officer Who Signed My Orders
Rebecca Shaw had mentored me for eleven years.
She knew about my pregnancy before my mother did.
She attended Marcus’s memorial ceremony.
She hugged me.
Now I learned she had met my supposedly dead husband months earlier.
I requested her immediately.
Request denied.
“Why?”
No answer.
Then Colonel Cole appeared under escort.
He had been cleared of intentionally compromising me.
Partially.
He admitted changing my destination because Shaw ordered him verbally to divert me.
“Why didn't you say that?”
“Because she outranks both of us and the order was compartmentalized.”
“Marcus warned me not to trust you.”
“He probably meant not to trust my route.”
Maybe.
Or Cole was adapting.
Nobody got automatic belief anymore.
Then a message arrived from Shaw.
Not classified channels.
My personal email.
One sentence:
Your husband is coming home tonight. Do not let Aaron reach him first.
Attached coordinates.
Different from the fake ping.
Cole stared.
“Could be another trap.”
“Everything is a trap.”
I went anyway.
Not alone.
A secure team established surveillance around an abandoned military warehouse outside Alexandria.
11:43 p.m.
A vehicle approached.
One man exited.
Thin.
Bearded.
Limping.
My heart recognized him before my brain did.
Marcus.
Alive.
I forgot rank.
Training.
Everything.
I ran.
He caught me.
For several seconds, I hated him and loved him so violently I couldn't separate the two.
I hit his chest.
Once.
Twice.
Then held him.
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“You let me think our daughter lost you.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
Then I kissed him.
And hated myself for needing to.
He put his hand against my stomach.
Our daughter moved.
Marcus broke.
He sank to his knees and cried against my belly.
For one impossible minute, conspiracy disappeared.
Then floodlights exploded across the warehouse.
Vehicles surrounded us.
Not ours.
Marcus stood instantly.
“Shaw found us.”
“You were working with Shaw.”
“I was.”
Past tense.
“What happened?”
“She’s Meridian.”
My blood froze.
“Not part of it.”
Marcus pulled me behind cover.
“She runs it.”
Gunfire did not come.
Instead, Rebecca Shaw’s voice echoed through an external speaker.
“Elena.”
Calm.
Familiar.
Almost maternal.
“Step away from your husband.”
Marcus whispered:
“Whatever she tells you next, remember something.”
“What?”
“He wasn't the original target.”
“Who?”
May you like
Marcus looked at me.
“You.”
