Twelve

Desmond’s POV

The house was too quiet.

Brielle didn’t speak to me that morning. Not when I said her name, not when she passed me in the kitchen to pour herself tea, not even when our eyes brushed against each other’s for a single heartbeat.

Her silence was colder than any insult she could have hurled at me.

She moved like I wasn’t even there — like I’d already become a shadow in her world. I’d seen blood spilled, friends buried, promises broken, but nothing had prepared me for this: Brielle treating me like I didn’t exist.

I told myself to give her space, but space was something I couldn’t afford. Not after what happened last night. The perimeter breach. Kade’s warning. The truth clawing up from underneath everything I had buried.

Still, I stood in the hallway like an idiot, watching her.

She carried her mug out to the terrace, fingers wrapped tight around it, knuckles pale. The drink shook in her hand. She didn’t look back, but I knew she felt me watching. She always did.

I dragged my eyes away, forced myself to check the system again. The reboot had gone through clean. No new intrusions. For now.

Kade had slipped out before dawn, leaving only a promise that he’d return with answers. But I needed them now. I needed something to hold on to, because for the first time, it felt like I was already losing her.

I was halfway up the stairs when the alert blinked red on the monitor.

Gate access granted.

My stomach dropped. Nobody had clearance this morning. I tapped the screen.

Mirren Alvarez.

What the hell?

I hadn’t added her to the system. My jaw locked tight. By the time the doorbell rang, I was already at the entrance.

Too late.

I pulled the door open and there she was, Mirren, with oversized sunglasses tipped down her nose, a smug smile tugging on her lips, and an enormous bag slung over her shoulder like she was showing up for vacation, not a lockdown.

“What are you doing here?” My voice came out sharper than I meant.

“Relax, soldier,” she drawled, brushing past me before I could stop her. “I came to see my best friend. You know, the one you’ve turned into a prisoner.”

“Watch your mouth, girl.” I shut the door hard enough that it echoed.

Mirren’s gaze swept over the foyer, the tall ceilings, the polished wood. She whistled low. “Quite the palace you’ve got here.”

“This isn’t a place for you,” I snapped.

She turned, tilting her head at me. “Look, I get the security obsession. But Brielle needed me. So here I am.”

“She didn’t...”

“She did,” Mirren cut in, pulling her phone from her bag. “Sent me the coordinates herself.”

Heat rose in my chest. Brielle had handed them out?

“Unbelievable.” I stepped into Mirren’s path, blocking her. “You need to leave. Now.”

“Oh, now you care about security?” she shot back, one brow arching. “After you’ve been treating her like a classified asset? Please. Save the righteous act, Desmond. Doesn’t suit you.”

I was running out of patience.

“Brielle is in danger,” I growled, my voice dropping lower. “And I won’t let you compromise her safety.”

Mirren’s smirk faltered, just slightly. Enough for me to see she wasn’t as careless as she pretended. But then she squared her shoulders.

“You think I don’t know she’s in danger?” Her tone sharpened. “I’m not your enemy. But you’re losing her. And not because of whoever’s out there. You’re losing her because you lied.”

I didn’t answer. Because she was right.

“I’ll be on the terrace,” she said coolly, brushing past me again. “You can keep stomping around if it makes you feel better.”

I clenched my fists until my knuckles ached, then forced myself to move.

I took the stairs two at a time, stopping outside Brielle’s room. Knocked once.

“Brielle.” My voice was steady, or at least I hoped it was. “We need to talk.”

Nothing.

“Brielle,” I tried again, softer this time.

Still no answer.

I pushed the door open. Empty.

Panic surged in my chest. I spun back down the stairs, scanning every corner until I found her.

She was outside, on the terrace, sitting across from Mirren.

Her posture was rigid. One leg crossed tightly over the other, arms folded around her mug like it was armor. She didn’t look up at me when I stepped closer. Not once.

“I need to explain...”

“You don’t need to explain anything.” Her voice was soft but carried razor edges. “I’m done listening to men who think silence is love.”

The words cut deeper than I expected.

Mirren arched a brow but kept quiet.

“Brielle,” I said, my voice low, almost pleading. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then stop.”

Her eyes lifted to mine, and for the first time that morning, I saw what was behind them. Not just pain. Not just anger. Distance. She had already put a wall between us.

“Stop pretending that keeping me locked up, keeping me in the dark, is some kind of kindness.”

The words knocked the air out of me.

Without thinking, I reached for her.

She flinched, barely, but enough. Enough to make me feel like the monster she believed I was.

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Then do that,” she whispered, pulling her hand back. “But don’t pretend you care.”

She stood. Walked past me without a glance.

Mirren stayed behind, eyes wide, before she let out a low whistle and sipped from Brielle’s mug like it was hers. “Smooth, soldier,” she muttered.

Her sarcasm barely registered. All I could hear were Brielle’s words echoing in my skull.

She doesn’t think I care.

God help me, I care too much.

And now I might have broken her beyond repair.

Mirren stood, adjusting her sundress with a tug. “You really screwed this one up,” she said casually, not bothering to soften it.

I turned to her, jaw tight. “You’ve got five minutes.”

“To do what?” she asked, stepping closer. “Lecture you? Or remind you that you’re not bulletproof where she’s concerned?”

I said nothing. Silence was all I had left.

“She’s not a mission, Desmond. She’s not some locked file or hidden prototype. She’s a woman. A woman who is hurt, furious, and worst of all? Disappointed.”

“I didn’t bring her here to hurt her,” I snapped, the words rough, too defensive.

“No,” she said evenly. “You brought her here to protect her. And then lied to her face every day. Nice work.”

My fists tightened. But I couldn’t argue.

“She deserves answers,” Mirren added, her voice lowering. “Whether they break her or not.”

I looked away, unable to hold her stare.

Because she was right.

And because Brielle already looked at me like every other man who had let her down.

Mirren slung her bag higher on her shoulder, walking toward the hall. “I’ll be staying,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Just in case she needs someone who isn’t full of secrets.”

That last line hit harder than anything else she’d said.

I stayed on the terrace, alone with the silence, her words echoing inside me.

And for the first time, I wondered if the person Brielle needed protecting from wasn’t the threat outside these walls.

But me.