19. Sarah
SARAH
The warehouse had never felt so loud.
The storm hammered the walls.
Computers hummed.
Coffee steamed on the operations table.
Boots moved against concrete.
But all Sarah could hear was her heartbeat.
Wade survived.
Not necessarily until today.
She forced herself to remember that distinction.
The report proved he had survived the operation and remained alive three months later.
Nothing more.
But after five years of being told he died immediately, three months felt like a miracle.
She stared at his photograph on the monitor.
At the smile she remembered.
At the eyes that had always carried more humor than caution.
Her brother was supposed to be dead.
She had buried an empty casket.
She had listened to military officers speak about sacrifice and courage. She had accepted a folded flag while knowing something about the official account felt wrong.
For years, people told her grief had made her suspicious.
Paranoid.
Unable to accept the truth.
They had been wrong.
Marcus had known Wade survived.
He had looked into her mother’s eyes and lied.
Sarah walked away from the operations table.
Nobody stopped her.
The men of Shadow Division understood.
Some wounds needed space.
She reached the far end of the warehouse, where a silver sword and dark wings had been mounted above the memorial table.
The symbol had begun as a promise between Wade and the people who tried to expose the network.
Now Rook’s team carried it too.
Sarah stared at it without truly seeing it.
She saw Wade teaching her to ride a bicycle.
Wade helping her with homework.
Wade and their father teaching her to fight.
Wade laughing when she outshot both of them.
Wade stealing cookies before dinner and blaming her when their mother noticed.
Always laughing.
The memory struck hard.
A sharp breath escaped her.
Then another.
Five years.
She had spent five years convincing herself he was gone.
Accepting death had sometimes seemed easier than wondering.
Easier than hoping.
Now the questions had returned.
Where had they taken him?
Why had they hidden him?
Was he a prisoner?
Had he escaped?
Was he hurt?
Did he know she had never stopped looking?
A tear slipped down Sarah’s cheek.
She wiped it away.
Behind her, boots approached.
She didn’t turn.
She already knew who it was.
Rook stopped beside her.
Neither spoke.
The storm filled the silence.
Then he held out a cup of coffee.
“I didn’t know what else to bring.”
Sarah accepted it.
Their fingers brushed around the cup.
Warmth traveled through her hand.
She told herself it came from the coffee.
She didn’t believe it.
“Thank you.”
Rook stood beside her without demanding answers or offering promises he couldn’t keep.
She appreciated that more than she could explain.
Most people filled grief with words because silence made them uncomfortable.
Rook understood silence.
“What if he’s dead?” she asked.
Rook turned toward her.
“What if he survived the mission but died later?”
The possibility had been clawing at her since Fathom found the file.
Hope always came with fear.
Rook considered the question.
Actually considered it.
He didn’t dismiss it or give her an easy reassurance.
“It’s possible.”
Sarah stared into her coffee.
The honesty hurt.
But it didn’t insult her.
“Then again,” he continued, “Wade survived an operation designed to erase his entire team.”
She looked at him.
“That suggests he’s difficult to kill.”
A broken laugh escaped her.
“Wade was impossible.”
The memory surfaced.
Her brother at sixteen, covered in mud and grinning after crashing a dirt bike through their father’s fence.
Again.
“He never listened.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Sarah glanced at Rook.
“Are you comparing me to my brother?”
“I’m saying stubbornness might run in the family.”
For the first time that night, Sarah laughed.
A real laugh.
Small.
Brief.
But real.
The sound surprised her.
Something softened in Rook’s expression.
Not pity.
Never pity.
Warmth.
It changed his face.
For one dangerous second, Sarah wondered what he had looked like before the mountain.
Before six graves.
Before vengeance became the reason he woke each morning.
She looked away first.
Attraction was a complication she couldn’t afford.
Not with Marcus running.
Not with Wade missing.
Not with an entire network trying to kill them.
But she could still feel where Rook’s fingers had brushed hers.
Silence returned.
Comfortable this time.
“What was Wade like?” he asked.
“Protective.”
Rook’s mouth shifted. “That also sounds familiar.”
“He drove me insane.”
“I’m beginning to like him.”
“You would have.”
The words escaped before Sarah could stop them.
The warehouse seemed to grow quieter.
Rook didn’t look away.
Neither did she.
The idea of Rook and Wade knowing each other created a sudden ache inside her.
Two men made from the same dangerous loyalty.
Two men who would walk into fire for people they loved.
“He would have liked you too,” she said.
Something passed through Rook’s eyes.
Then Fathom called from across the room.
“I found another fragment.”
Sarah and Rook returned to the operations table.
A damaged list appeared beside the transfer order.
Four survivors had been received.
Their names were gone.
But fragments of identification numbers remained.
Fathom highlighted them.
“These aren’t standard military service numbers.”
“What are they?” Rook asked.
“Prisoner classifications.”
Cold moved through Sarah.
“They imprisoned them.”
“It looks that way.”
“Where?”
“Warden.”
The word glowed on the screen.
Sarah leaned closer.
“What if Warden isn’t only a facility?”
Fathom looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“It could be the person who controls it.”
Rook folded his arms.
“Or both.”
A title passed from one director to another.
A secret prison overseen by someone known only as Warden.
Sarah studied the four missing identities.
Wade had survived.
So had three others.
Someone had taken them alive and erased them.
“Marcus knows where it is,” she said.
Rook stood beside her.
“Then we find Marcus.”
“And make him tell us.”
His eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
Sarah looked at Wade’s photograph one more time.
For five years, she had hunted alone.
That had changed.
She had Shadow Division now.
She had Rook.
The realization should have frightened her.
Instead, for the first time in years, Sarah didn’t feel alone.