18. Delfino
18
DELFINO
I stood perfectly still as Jekyll stepped fully into the room, my body so rigid it was as if the slightest movement might shatter me. The morning light streaming through the windows behind me illuminated his face, and I was struck by how much older he looked than in the surveillance photos.
Eleven years had carved deep wrinkles on his face. His shoulders, once so broad and commanding, were slightly stooped, his clothes hanging on a frame that had lost too much weight. But his eyes—those were exactly as I remembered. Sharp, intelligent, missing nothing.
For a long, suspended moment, we simply looked at each other. I had imagined this reunion a thousand different ways since learning he was alive. In some versions, I screamed at him until my voice gave out. In others, I was coldly professional, showing him nothing. But now that he stood before me, all my rehearsed speeches evaporated.
“Kima.” His voice was rougher than I remembered, as if weathered by the years.
The one word—my name—sent a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through me. Anger. Relief. Grief. Betrayal. Love.
“Jekyll,” I replied, deliberately using his code name rather than the one I’d called him growing up.
The corner of his mouth twitched in acknowledgment of my choice. He took another step forward, his gaze briefly moving to Hornet beside me, then back.
“You look so much like your mother,” he said softly.
“Don’t,” I managed, the word coming out more sharply than I’d intended. “Don’t talk about her.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
Another silence stretched between us, heavier than the first. I was suddenly, profoundly grateful for Hornet’s steady presence beside me.
“Why?” I finally asked the question that had burned inside me for months. “Why did you let us believe you were dead for eleven years?”
Jekyll glanced at the chair nearest him. “May I sit?”
I nodded stiffly, noting the careful way he lowered himself, suggesting how much pain he was in. Whatever was wrong with him, it was clearly serious. I remained standing.
“The op,” he began. “The one where I supposedly died. It wasn’t what any of us thought it was.”
“You were extracting diplomats,” I said, recalling what little I knew from the official reports. “Russian targets who needed protection.”
Jekyll’s mouth twisted. “That’s what we were told. That was the lie that set everything in motion.” He leaned forward slightly. “We were being used, Kima. All of us. Unit 23, MI6, the entire intelligence community. We weren’t extracting diplomats—we were unwittingly trafficking them.”
Hornet shifted beside me. “Explain.”
“The op had all the signs of a standard extraction. Five targets, all with diplomatic status, all supposedly facing persecution for working against Russian interests.” Jekyll’s eyes never left mine. “Our plan was to move them exactly as the protocol dictated. What we didn’t know was that they weren’t who they claimed to be. They were carrying sensitive materials hidden in personal effects. Information, chemical formulas, biological samples.”
I tried to process this. “You’re saying Unit 23 was being used as a smuggling operation?”
“Not only Unit 23. Agencies around the globe. It was brilliant in its simplicity—use legitimate intelligence services to move people and materials across borders without scrutiny. Who questions diplomatic couriers being extracted for their own safety?”
“That’s why you tracked the connection with diplomatic immunity,” Hornet said as pieces fell into place.
“Exactly,” said Jekyll.
“So what happened during that mission?” I pressed. “Why fake your death?”
His expression changed. “The ambush. We were betrayed by someone inside SIS. When the firefight started, I was separated from the team. Took two bullets.”
Despite everything, my heart constricted at the thought.
“I was bleeding out in the snow, certain I was dying, when I overheard my attackers speaking. Not about the extraction, but about the ‘packages’ being successfully diverted. That’s when I realized what was happening.” He paused, giving the memory space. “And then they came.”
“Who?”
“The Minerva Protocol.”
The name we’d been chasing sent a chill through me. “What is that exactly?”
“A completely independent organization operating outside official channels. Created by former intelligence officers and civilians who discovered the depth of the corruption within the intelligence agencies worldwide.” His voice dropped lower. “They found me, saved my life, and gave me a choice—help them dismantle these trafficking networks from the inside, or they would patch me up and let me return to a compromised system.”
“And you chose to let your family think you were dead,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
Pain flashed across his face. “I chose to protect you and your mother the only way I could. If I had returned, if anyone had suspected what I knew, they wouldn’t have hesitated to use you both as leverage.”
“So instead, you abandoned us.” The words burned in my throat. “Do you have any idea what that did to her? She was never the same after they told us you were gone.”
“I know.” His voice broke slightly. “And I will carry that guilt for the rest of my life. But if there had been any other way?—”
“There’s always another way,” I cut in. “You could have told us the truth. Put us in protective custody. Anything would have been better than the grief we lived with.”
“Would it?” His gaze hardened. “You were sixteen, Kima. Your mother had already lost your father. If I had told you I was going undercover to infiltrate global trafficking networks, would you have been able to keep that secret? Would you have been able to convince your mother to join a witness protection program without explanation? Could you have lived with the constant fear of knowing I was out there, possibly in danger at any moment?”
“We’ll never know, will we?” I replied coldly. “Because you didn’t give us that choice.”
He didn’t argue, only looked at me with a penetrating gaze. “No, I didn’t. I made the decision I thought would keep you safest.”
“While you played hero.” The accusation hung in the air.
“While I became Hydra,” he corrected quietly. “One of the Council of Twelve within the Minerva Protocol. I built a new identity from nothing. Infiltrated networks. Mapped every person, location, and operation I could find.” He leaned forward, intensity radiating from him despite his weakened state. “What we uncovered was bigger than anything I could have imagined. It went beyond simple trafficking. It reached into governments, intelligence agencies, and military organizations.”
“Operation Romanov,” Hornet said. “The Russian continuation of what Irish Warrick uncovered with Argead.”
“Romanov picked up where Argead left off, but with improved methodology and wider reach. They’ve created a system for moving not only information or materials, but people. High-value targets with specialized knowledge.”
I tried to absorb all of this, matching it against the fragments we’d gathered over the past weeks. “Why surface now? After eleven years, why let yourself be seen?”
Something shifted in his expression—a softening, a vulnerability I’d never seen before. “Because I’m dying, Kima.”
While I’d prepared myself, his words were still as painful as a knife in my gut. Despite everything, despite all the anger I’d carried, hearing him say it aloud made my chest constrict painfully.
“Cancer,” he continued when I didn’t speak. “Advanced. The treatments bought me some time, but the prognosis is clear. I have weeks at most.”
I swallowed hard, fighting to maintain my composure. “The oncology clinic in Athens.”
“Yes.” His hands, which I now noticed were thinner than they should be, fidgeted slightly. “I wanted—needed—to see you before I die. To explain. To ask your forgiveness if I could.” He paused. “And to ask for your help.”
“My help?” I repeated, a strange hollowness forming in my stomach.
“Dr. Suzanne Henning has gone missing.” His voice strengthened with urgency. “She’s critical to the Minerva Protocol, one of the original architects. The organization can’t function effectively without her. I’ve been trying to find her, but I’m running out of time.”
The hollow feeling expanded. He hadn’t sought me out for reconciliation. He needed something. The realization stung more than I wanted to admit.
“Suzanne is not her real name.” When his words caught, my pain intensified. “Nor is Henning.”
“What is it then?” I snapped, folding my arms in front of me.
“Lyra. Lyra Carrington.”
The way he said the name, the love evident in his tone, made me sick to my stomach.
“She developed the encryption systems that protect the Minerva Protocol. She holds key fragments of intelligence that, if compromised, could expose dozens of deeply embedded operatives.” He leaned forward. “If Romanov has her, if they’ve found a way to extract what she knows, the consequences would be catastrophic.”
I fought to keep my emotions from showing on my face. All this time, all this buildup, and what he truly wanted was my help finding a woman who was clearly important to him.
“Who is she to you?” I pressed.
“Someone I knew before I met your mother.”
“Is she the real reason you disappeared? Because you decided to abandon us for her?”
“No, Kima. I swear to you that wasn’t the case. There was a time we were…close, but it was before I met Nina. Before I fell in love with her, before I adopted you.”
“Don’t,” I spat. “If this woman is so important to you, at least tell me the truth.”
His hurt mirrored my own.
“I am being completely honest. What was between Lyra and me ended years earlier. Many years, Kima.”
“So your real reason for orchestrating this so-called reunion was merely to get my help.”
“No. That isn’t true. I wanted—needed—to see you. To explain.”
I raised a brow.
“To ask your forgiveness, but not for myself. For you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. To tell you to let go of what I did. Live your life without anger and hurt.”
How easy he made it sound. Simply let it go. As if that could ever be possible. I blinked away tears of disappointment, not knowing what I’d truly expected to happen but still feeling as though there was something critical I’d needed from him but would never get.
“Kima, I?—”
An explosion cut him off, the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood echoing through the villa. The building shook as a second blast followed almost immediately.
“Down!” Hornet shouted, already moving to cover me.
Jekyll was on his feet with surprising speed for a man in his condition. “The FSB,” he said grimly, drawing a weapon I hadn’t noticed. “They must have tracked me here.”
Through the comms, I heard Greenwich shouting, “Perimeter breach! Multiple hostiles approaching from the east and south!”
“Extraction protocol alpha,” Hornet ordered, guiding me toward the western exit. “All teams engage defensive positions.”
Jekyll moved with us, his earlier fragility seemingly forgotten as adrenaline took over. “They’ll have the primary exits covered,” he said. “There’s a secondary route through the wine cellar.”
“How—” I began.
“I arranged it,” he said simply. “Never enter a location without planning how to leave it.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
As we moved through the villa, the sounds of gunfire intensified. Through my earpiece, I heard Reaper confirming his position, Blackjack reporting hostiles at the main entrance, and Typhon coordinating the defense.
“Where’s Typhon?” I asked as we descended toward the cellar.
Jekyll’s expression hardened. “Moving to extraction point B if he’s following protocol.”
Before I could ask more, the door at the end of the hallway burst open and two figures in tactical gear appeared. Hornet reacted instantly, pushing me behind him as he fired, dropping the first attacker. Jekyll took out the second.
“Questions later,” Hornet said firmly. “Move now.”
We continued downward, the sounds of the assault growing more distant as we descended into the wine cellar. Jekyll moved to a rack along the far wall, sliding it aside to reveal a narrow passageway.
“This leads to a boathouse on the shoreline,” he explained. “We can access the water from there.”
As he turned to lead us through, I caught his arm. “Tell me about Dr. Henning. What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“I need you to?—”
The sound of footsteps on the cellar stairs cut him off.
“Go!” he hissed, pushing us toward the passage. “I’ll hold them off!”
“Not without you,” I said fiercely, surprising myself with the intensity of my reaction.
“We leave together or not at all,” Hornet agreed, taking up position with clear sight lines to the stairs.
Jekyll looked between us, pride flickering across his features. “On my mark, then.”
He counted down silently with his fingers. Three. Two. One.
We moved as one, Hornet providing cover fire as Jekyll and I slipped into the passageway. Once inside, Jekyll sealed the entrance behind us, the sounds of combat immediately muffled.
“This way,” he said, his mobile illuminating the rough stone tunnel. “And Kima—” He paused, looking back at me. “I swear I didn’t seek you out solely for help finding Lyra. I needed to tell you how proud I am of the woman you’ve become.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. Before I could respond, more explosions shook the villa above us, dust filtering down from the ceiling of our escape route.
“Later,” I said, unable to process his words with the adrenaline of combat still surging through me. “We need to move.”
As we hurried through the tunnel, I tried to reconcile the man beside me—the man who’d abandoned my mother and me and lied to us, but who now risked his life alongside ours—with the stepfather I had once adored. The truth, it seemed, was more complicated than the simple narrative of betrayal I’d constructed.
Behind us, the sounds of pursuit grew louder. What started as a confrontation had escalated into a full-scale assault, and whatever answers Jekyll still had to give would have to wait until we reached safety—if we reached it at all.
He was behind me, shouting at me to keep moving, to run, to get out, when I realized what I’d needed. Jekyll and I hadn’t hugged, hadn’t embraced, and somehow, I knew that if I didn’t do it right now, I’d never get the chance again.
Our eyes met as I turned to face him, retracing my steps. His forehead furrowed, but then what I wanted must’ve dawned on him. He opened his arms, and I stepped into them.
“I love you, Dad,” I said.
“I love you, Kima.”