Chapter Five
The microwave beeped, breaking the heavy quiet that had settled between them. Jackson pulled out two frozen meals, steam rising as he peeled the plastic back. It wasn’t gourmet, but it would keep them from going hungry.
He slid one across the small table to Avery, who sat with her hair still damp from her shower, wearing one of his old T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were too long on her.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
He nodded and picked up his fork. The first bite tasted like salt and cardboard, but he didn’t care. It was food. It was something normal, and normal felt like a luxury after the day they’d had.
Avery ate quietly, pushing her food around the tray more than actually eating it. Her eyes looked distant, still shadowed from the shock of what Noah had told them.
Jackson didn’t blame her. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it either.
He chewed slowly, staring past her at the dark window. The reflection of the room wavered against the glass, and for a moment he imagined he could still see the flash of the grenade, the fire rolling through his house, the force of it shaking the ground under his boots.
They’d been seconds from dying. If he hadn’t taken the back trail instead of the main road, they’d both be ash by now.
How the hell was he supposed to keep her safe?
The cabin worked for now. It was off the grid, secure, and hidden. But it wasn’t built for a long stay. He had enough supplies for a week, maybe two, and after that, they’d have to move again. The thought sat heavy in his chest.
He’d been in worse situations before, in places where danger felt constant and close, but this was different. This wasn’t a mission. This was personal.
He glanced at Avery. She looked exhausted, her shoulders slumped, her eyes rimmed with red. She’d lost everything, again, and somehow she was still holding it together.
Jackson wasn’t sure how long that would last.
The steady thump of the dryer filled the quiet cabin, blending with the faint scrape of forks against plates.
“I need to confront my boss,” she said, breaking the silence.
He didn’t look up. “Avery, we’ve been over this.”
“I know,” she grumbled, her tone rising with frustration. “But I can’t just sit here while he gets away with it. If I can talk to Warren, I can make him tell me why he did it.” She set her fork down. “He had a thing for me, Jackson. I told him no. Maybe that’s why he did it.”
He finally looked at her. Her hands were trembling slightly, her eyes tight with anger and hurt. “You think that’s all it was? Because you rejected him?”
“Maybe,” she murmured. “I embarrassed him. Maybe he wanted to remind me what happens when I make a man like him look bad.”
Jackson didn’t argue. He knew how pride could twist into something dark, especially in a man used to control. That kind of humiliation could turn dangerous. But another thought pulled at him, one that made more sense the longer he considered it.
Money.
The Brotherhood had deep pockets. They could buy whatever they wanted, including loyalty. Maybe Warren didn’t betray her because of jealousy. Maybe he just took the highest offer.
Jackson studied her. If it had been about money, then this wasn’t a single act of betrayal. It was part of something bigger, something planned. And that left him with more questions than answers.
He pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. He’d already gone over everything in his head a dozen times, but the pieces still didn’t fit. Hoping this time he’d catch what he’d missed, he tried again.
“How would Warren have figured out who you really are? And how would he have known to sell that to the Brotherhood?”
Avery let out a long sigh and rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. I must have said something, let something slip that made him suspicious. Maybe it was the way I reacted to something he said, or maybe he started digging on his own. I just don’t know.”
Her frustration bled into her voice, and Jackson could hear the edge of guilt there too. She’d been turning this over in her head for hours, chasing the same dead ends he was.
He kept his tone calm. “Did you leave anything from your past lying around the house? Old photos, papers, anything that could have given him a lead?”
She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t allowed to bring anything with me when I went into WITSEC. They’re strict about that. New name, new life, nothing from before.”
Jackson nodded slowly, staring down at the table as his thoughts turned over. “All right,” he continued. “Let’s try this a different way. Could your podcast have tipped him off somehow? Maybe something in what you said or covered made him connect the dots?”
Avery frowned, considering it. “Maybe. But I only did one podcast that even touched on the Brotherhood, and it wasn’t directly about them. I mentioned them in connection to a case, but that was it.”
Jackson nodded slowly. “Still, if Warren was listening closely, that might have been enough to get him curious.”
“Curious, maybe,” she said, “but not enough to figure out who I am. I was careful.”
“Careful’s good,” he said. “But you were working for him. He had access to your files, your equipment, maybe even the metadata behind your posts.”
She looked uneasy. “I never thought of that.”
Jackson studied her for a moment, then asked, “Any reason he would have done an image search of you online?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You said you used a fake photo for the podcast website. But maybe Warren wanted to check up on you. Maybe he took a photo of you recently, ran it through a search, and found something that connected you to your old life.”
Avery hesitated, the idea clearly unsettling her. “That’s possible,” she said slowly. “He always acted like he wanted to know more about me. Asked questions that didn’t seem important at the time. I just don’t know why he’d do something like that.”
“Curiosity, revenge, money,” Jackson said. “Take your pick.”
She stared down at her plate, her fingers tracing the edge of it. “It could be any of those,” she said quietly.
He nodded, the thoughts still turning over in his head. The more he heard, the less this felt like a simple betrayal.
Something else was driving it, and he intended to find out what.
Avery went still, her fingers rising to her mouth. Her eyes unfocused, like she was replaying something in her mind.
“What is it?” Jackson asked.
She hesitated before speaking. “There was something. About two months ago.”
He waited, watching her closely.
“Warren was at my house,” she said slowly.
“We were going over ideas for upcoming podcasts. I had my laptop open, and I was searching for background details on a case. I had a news site pulled up, and there was an article on the front page.” She paused, her voice dropping.
“It was about an attack on a Crossfire Ops team.”
Jackson felt his pulse jump. “The one where I got hit.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t mean to react, but I did. I gasped. Just for a second before I caught myself, but Warren noticed.”
Jackson leaned back, processing that. “Yeah,” he said finally. “That might have been the start. He probably filed it away, started digging. From there, it wouldn’t take much to piece things together. A few old connections, a couple of names, and he could’ve figured out who you really were.”
Avery’s eyes filled with regret. “I didn’t even think about it. I closed the tab right away and changed the subject. I thought I’d covered it.”
Jackson ran a hand over his jaw. “You probably did everything right, but Warren was already curious. Once he started looking, he’d find something. Even the smallest detail would lead him to the rest.”
He looked down at the table, the thought hitting hard. “But why? Why sell you out?”
Avery shook her head. “I wish I knew.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
He kept watching her, the frustration burning through him. He wanted a target, someone to aim at, something he could fix. But this was messier than a betrayal. It was personal, calculated, and it had nearly gotten her killed.
Jackson picked up his phone and pulled up the file Noah had sent earlier. Warren Sinclair’s background flashed on the screen, the digital dossier neat and thorough. Noah’s team had already done a deep dive, and the man’s whole life was spelled out for them.
Mid-forties. Decent reputation. Ran a small but successful podcast network out of Houston. The photo showed a man with short dark hair, clean-shaven and solid, forgettable features. Nothing that screamed danger or desperation.
Jackson scrolled through the rest of the report, checking and rechecking. No criminal record. No obvious debt or shady financial moves. No sign of any prior connection to the Brotherhood.
On paper, Warren Sinclair was just another business guy trying to make a name for himself. But paper didn’t always tell the truth or the full story.
Jackson frowned and typed out a quick text to Noah. Check visitation records for Haver Barker. See if Warren Sinclair’s been to the prison in the last year.
He set down his phone and looked across the table at Avery. “If Warren did figure out who you were, he might have met with Barker first. Maybe to make a deal.”
Avery shook her head slowly. “It’s possible he did, but not necessarily for that reason.
He’s done a lot of interviews with convicted killers before.
He likes to get inside their heads for story ideas.
If he was researching something tied to the Brotherhood, maybe he visited Barker for background info. ”
Jackson considered that, his gaze steady on her. “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he used that as cover.”
Avery sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. “I just can’t believe he’d risk everything like that.”
Jackson looked at her, his voice quiet but sure. “Believe it. People will do just about anything when the right incentives are on the table.”
His phone buzzed on the table, and he picked it up. Noah’s reply came fast. I’ll get it done.