Eleven

Desmond’s POV

I woke drenched in sweat.

The sheets clung damp against my back, my chest heaving like I’d been running for miles. The silence of the guest room pressed down on me, heavy and unnatural, but in my ears there was no silence. Gunshots cracked again and again inside my head, louder than thunder. And always, always, her scream followed.

Brielle.

In the dream, she collapsed into my arms, that damned necklace clenched so tight in her fist that her knuckles bled. No blood poured from me, no smoke from the gun, only her lifeless weight against my chest as I shouted into the void.

The nightmare hadn’t let me go since the night of her birthday dinner. I could relive every second of that evening in daylight if I let myself, but in the dark, my mind twisted it, replayed it differently. And in the dream, she always died.

I shoved the blanket off, dragging in air like a drowning man. My hands pressed to my knees as I hunched forward, shaking the tension out of my shoulders. But it wasn’t working. I was unraveling at the thought of her being hurt, and now it was chasing me into sleep.

The room was cold, stale, the faint hum of the monitor across from me louder than the beating of my own pulse. I hadn’t even bothered changing out of yesterday’s clothes after my call with Thomas. My phone sat face down on the nightstand, but what caught my eye was the steady blink of red on the security feed.

I frowned, stood, and crossed to it.

The log on the screen sent my stomach into a pit.

Perimeter breach detected. Attempted access. Time stamp: 03:12 a.m.

“Damn it.”

My thumb tapped the monitor controls. Whoever it was hadn’t made it inside. But they’d been close. Too close.

How the hell had they even found this place?

I ran a quick scan through the logs, and my suspicion was confirmed. Same signature pattern as before. Not random. This wasn’t desperation, it was strategy. They were testing the edges. Mocking me. And the message was clear: we’re not just watching anymore.

I pulled on clothes quickly, dragging a jacket over my shoulders while my thoughts spun in too many directions at once.

As I passed her door, I slowed. It was cracked open an inch. She rarely left it like that.

I glanced in.

She was curled beneath her blanket, a pillow pulled tight against her chest like a shield. Even in sleep, her face carried tension, brows drawn, lips parted, like she was trapped in her own storm.

My chest tightened.

For a dangerous moment, I wanted to go in. To lay down beside her, fold her into my arms, and promise away her nightmares with words I wasn’t allowed to say. To bury my mouth in her hair, whisper lies about safety until she believed them.

But I couldn’t.

I forced the door shut again, silently, and headed downstairs.

I opened a secure line to Kade. He and I had bled together once, long ago, back when our lives belonged to the military. He’d walked out with me, disappeared into the shadows and made them his home. He was the one man I trusted to give me the truth, even when I didn’t want to hear it.

And lately, he’d been giving me truths I couldn’t stand.

He warned me weeks ago that keeping Brielle here would be a mistake, that walls can be maps, and prisons are easier to track than ghosts. I thought he was wrong. I thought hiding her in the middle of nowhere with every system of defense money could buy would be enough.

He hadn’t answered the call. That alone was strange.

Fifteen minutes later, as I finished rebooting the feeds that had gone dark, my phone buzzed.

Blocked number.

I answered on the first ring.

“It’s me,” Kade’s voice said, low and clipped. “I’m two minutes away. We talk tonight.”

The line went dead.

I met him at the front, disarming him by reflex before I let him step inside. He didn’t react—he never did. The man was more machine than flesh now.

“They’ve escalated,” he said as he tossed his jacket onto the chair. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room out of habit. “Tried the perimeter again last night. Same code.”

“I know,” I muttered. “And they’re pushing harder.”

I led him into the study, closing the heavy door behind us. He pulled a small USB drive from his pocket and dropped it onto my desk with a clatter.

“That’s what they’re digging for. We pulled it from a ghost server tangled up with your girl’s project.”

“She’s not...” I stopped myself, jaw locking. “What kind of fragments?”

“Coordinates. Keys. Code that shouldn’t exist.” He leaned closer. “And that necklace she wears like a charm? Not just jewelry. It’s a trigger. A key. Thomas knew exactly what he was doing when he gave it to her. Your girl stumbled onto the same trail he left behind. Her project and his theft? They’re connected.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, forcing down the frustration tearing through me. I’d known it. I’d felt it in my gut. But hearing it out loud lodged something darker in my chest.

“She thinks she built it all herself,” I muttered. “She thinks she’s about to change the world.”

“She’s innocent,” Kade said bluntly. “But innocence doesn’t matter. Not to the people circling her. They’ll bleed her dry if they get the chance.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I already knew.

A sound broke the tension.

The faintest creak of wood.

Both of us turned toward the door. It was open a fraction, a shadow shifting behind it.

I crossed the room in two strides and yanked it wide.

Brielle stumbled back.

“Brielle...”

Her eyes were wide, voice shaking with fury. “You lied to me.”

My chest clenched. “What did you hear?”

She stepped forward, fists tight at her sides. “How long? How long have you and my father been stringing me along? Using me like some pawn in your secret game?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” Her voice cracked, but her eyes burned. “Why am I locked up here like a criminal? Why do strangers know my name, know where I am? Why does everyone keep talking around me like I’m not even a person?”

“Brielle...”

“Tell me the truth,” she said. “Or let me go.”

“You can’t.”

Her chest heaved, tears trembling but not falling. “So I am a prisoner.”

“You’re not.” My hands dragged over my face, nails biting into my skin. “You’re being protected.”

“No.” She shook her head, stepping closer. “That’s not it. What’s different is the way you look at me. With… with something I can’t name. With anger. With… irritation.”

Her words cut deeper than she knew.

“Brielle...”

“Stop pretending,” she whispered. Her voice was sharp and broken all at once. “Just stop. Tell me you don’t hate me.”

She was close now. Too close. The faintest breath of lavender clung to her skin, wrapping around me like a noose. I could see every detail, the curve of her mouth, the rise and fall of her chest, the tremble in her hands.

I should have walked away.

I didn’t.

My hands found her waist, dragging her against me. For one reckless second, all I wanted was to close the space, to taste the lips I’d sworn to ignore, to forget every promise I’d made to her father.

But Thomas’s voice snapped in my head: You’re the only one I trust with her.

Trust. Not desire. Not this.

I froze. My grip tightened for a heartbeat before I forced myself to release her. I stepped back, chest heaving like I’d sprinted across the earth.

“Brielle…” My voice was ragged, breaking.

Her fists stayed clenched, her eyes flicking past me to the desk. “I heard enough. I know I’m connected to all this. That I’m in danger. That Dad didn’t tell me the truth. That you’ve been lying.”

She was right. But not right enough.

I nodded slowly. “Yes. There are things you don’t know. Things I wasn’t ready to put on your shoulders until I had answers.”

“And now?” she asked, broken.

“Now?” I glanced at Kade, who stood stone-still behind me. “Now all I care about is keeping you alive.”

Her face hardened. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give.”

Her voice cracked again. “I trusted you.”

The pain in my chest burned hotter than the whiskey I’d left untouched. “You still can.”

“You should have told me the truth,” she whispered. “I would’ve helped.”

The silence that fell was heavy enough to crush bone.

Then she turned and left, her footsteps fading down the hall without a backward glance.

Behind me, Kade let out a low whistle. “She didn’t catch everything. That’s a small mercy.”

I pressed my hand to my forehead, jaw tight. “No. It’s not. She caught enough. And if there’s one thing Brielle Quinn doesn’t do, it’s stop digging once she smells blood.”

Kade smirked faintly. “She’s her father’s daughter.”

I didn’t answer.

Because what haunted me wasn’t what she would find in the shadows.

It was what she’d do when she realized I was the one holding the shovel.