Chapter 23.

SAINT.

I've never been this pissed on a mission before. And not because we were losing.

But because we weren't even playing.

We'd been holed up in this damn room for over forty-eight hours with nothing but recycled air, useless reports, and Kester's spiraling mood swings to keep us company. And that's because Nagel wasn't on land. He was on water.

Fucking coward.

Nagel was always a crafty bastard – slippery and unpredictable – but this time, his craftiness was getting on my last nerve.

Kester was unraveling like a loose stitch. He had become a shadow of what he used to be. And what's worse? The man didn't even seem aware of it.

He kept muttering orders, pacing restlessly, breathing hard, and muttering her name under his breath like a prayer that wasn't going to get answered.

That's what obsession looks like... The sleeplessness. The spiralling. That thousand-yard stare he now wears permanently.

And for what? A mate?

Couldn't be me.

We had tracked Nagel's ship through satellite feeds a