17. Lyric
CHAPTER 17
LYRIC
Even though I stopped for coffee on my way across town, nobody else had arrived yet when I stepped into the temporary command center.
Nobody except Flynn, draped in a chair like he owned the damn place. His eyes heated as he took in my outfit, lingering too long on the deep-V neckline that left little to the imagination. That persistent, nagging memory of his mouth on my breasts rushed back, sending a wave of heat through me.
“Morning, princess,” he said like he hadn’t just seen me an hour ago, his voice rough with an edge I couldn’t quite place. Anger? Hurt? Desire? Maybe all three.
I took a seat as far from him as possible while still being in the same room and set my coffee on the table, pulling out my tablet to review the after-action report I’d thrown together after my shower.
Silence stretched between us.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he finally asked.
I looked up, keeping my expression neutral. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward, those amber eyes molten. “You’re going to pretend last night never happened.”
“There’s nothing to pretend. It happened. It’s over.” I turned my attention back to my tablet, though the words blurred together. “We have more important things to focus on. You know, like stopping Moreau from selling a weapon that could kill thousands.”
“Right.” He exhaled through his nose, his jaw tight. “The mission. Always the mission.”
Before I could respond, the door swung open and the team filed in.
Trent nodded at me, his face unreadable as he settled into a chair.
Alistair was quiet as he sat beside Trent, his gaze shifting between Flynn and me. I didn’t like the way it made me feel, like he saw everything. Every bruise I’d covered with foundation, even the ones I’d asked Flynn to put on me in the throes of sex. He might be our medic, but I didn’t need his diagnosis. Not for this.
Nolan sauntered in behind them, looking like he’d rolled out of bed and into the first clothes he found. His trademark smirk was firmly in place as he dropped into a chair and propped his boots on the table. “As a connoisseur of explosions, I have to say on record that was a very impressive fireball last night.” He eyed my outfit and his smirk widened to a grin. “And today she’s dressed to kill. You might just be my soulmate, Siren.”
Flynn growled softly, and I shot him a warning look. The last thing I needed was for him to go all possessive alpha male in front of the whole team. I’d never gain their respect if he treated me like I was his territory to defend instead of his equal.
“I’d be a terrible soulmate,” I replied to Nolan with a thin smile. “Ask anyone.”
Nolan winked. “And by anyone, you mean Shepherd?”
Oh, God.
I glanced around the table. Flynn looked like he wanted to punch something. Trent took a sudden interest in his coffee cup, twisting it in slow circles. Alistair studied the ceiling as if it might hold vital intelligence. Even Nolan seemed to realize he’d stepped in something, his grin faltering.
They knew. Of course they knew. A team like this didn’t miss anything.
I wanted to melt into the floor.
Thankfully, Ozzy saved me from having to respond by bursting into the room just then, juggling a laptop, at least three tablets, and a travel mug of coffee the size of a small bucket. His dark eyes were bloodshot, and the scowl on his face could have curdled milk. “You motherfucker,” he said to Flynn. “You stole my tech.”
Flynn’s mouth twitched. “Borrowed.”
“Borrowing implies returning it intact,” Ozzy muttered, dropping into a chair and lifting the coffee bucket—it really couldn’t be called a mug—to his mouth. Printed on the bottom was a hand throwing up a middle finger. “That EMP grenade was one of a kind.”
“And it worked beautifully,” Flynn replied, unrepentant. “Consider it field testing.”
Before Ozzy could retort, the door swung open again with enough force to rattle the hinges. Ethan strode in, every line of his body rigid with barely contained fury. The room went silent.
“Would someone like to explain why half of Monte Carlo is on fire?”
I kept my expression neutral, but my pulse kicked up a notch. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.
Flynn lounged deeper in his chair, appearing completely unfazed by Ethan’s temper. “Technically, it’s more like point-zero-five percent. One block. Not even the whole block. And you did tell us to sabotage what we could.”
“Not helping,” I muttered under my breath.
Ethan’s gaze snapped to mine. “Did I tell you to detonate a thermite compound in the middle of the city?” His voice had gone deceptively calm, but the muscle jumping in his jaw told a different story. “Or was I hallucinating when I specifically ordered you to gather intel, sabotage what you could, and exfil without drawing attention?”
I held his stare. “The truck was moving some of the technology. We couldn’t let it reach its destination.”
“So you blew it up.” It wasn’t a question.
“We neutralized the threat,” I corrected.
“It took Maya years to establish this cover.” Ethan’s voice broke on her name, and something twisted in my chest.
It was common knowledge that Ethan and Maya had been lovers, but it wasn’t until this moment that I realized he had actually been in love with her.
I glanced over at Flynn. He was watching Ethan with sympathy in his eyes. Then his gaze met mine, and the depth of feeling, the vulnerability, I saw there made my stomach flip. I tore my eyes away, focusing back on Ethan.
“Years,” Ethan repeated. “And you nearly burned it to the ground in one night.” He slammed a tablet down on the table. News footage filled the screen—flames licking the night sky, emergency vehicles with flashing lights, reporters gesturing dramatically at the wreckage. “This isn’t how Edge operates.”
Flynn snorted, and my gaze snapped back to him. I couldn’t seem to keep it off him. The vulnerability was gone, and he was back to his usual cocky self. “Now that’s a load of bullshit. Every operative in this room has done something that left a smoking crater at one point or another. Hell, that’s Nolan’s favorite pastime.”
“Ah, he’s not wrong,” Nolan said.
Flynn continued, his casual tone contradicting the dangerous glint in his eyes: “Just last month, Trent tanked two years of undercover work to save a woman from that doomsday cult, and then the earthquake device they had practically ripped California off the map. But you didn’t ride his ass about it.”
“There were extenuating circumstances,” Trent said coldly.
“Ah, but what about that time Alistair and Rafe accidentally burned down an entire warehouse in Budapest? No extenuating circumstances there,” Nolan said, all innocence. “And the time Leo punched a tank-sized hole through that villa in Odessa just because the Russian who owned it was a right gobshite.” He ticked off each example on his fingers, clearly enjoying himself. “And let’s not forget Oz hijacked a Chinese defense satellite, crashed it, and nearly started World War Three.”
“That was justified,” Ozzy muttered into his coffee.
Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Enough.”
“No, I don’t think it is,” Flynn said, his gaze locked on Ethan. “What about when Maya blew up a yacht in Singapore last year? Thirty-foot fireball visible from the mainland. Made international news, and I don’t recall you giving her any kind of grief about it.”
The room fell silent. No one breathed. I wanted to kick Flynn under the table, and cursed myself for sitting so far away from him. What did he think he’d achieve by jabbing at a wound Ethan hadn’t even begun to let heal?
Flynn leaned back in his seat again, folding his hands behind his head. “Seems like the problem isn’t the tactics, it’s that Lyric’s the one using them.”
Ethan’s face went pale, then flushed with anger. For a heartbeat, I thought he might actually hit Flynn. Instead, he braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Shepherd, and you’re way out of line. You’re not even officially part of this team.”
“No, and that’s the way I like it.”
I watched Flynn’s face harden, those amber eyes turning molten with challenge as he stood and faced Ethan across the table. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Then why are you still here?” Ethan asked, still in that deadly quiet tone. “If you prefer being a lone wolf…” He jerked his chin. “There’s the door.”
Flynn’s jaw tightened. “Because a long time ago, I gave you my word that whenever you needed help, I’d be here for you. And you need help right now, E. So here I am.”
I found myself holding my breath, watching the silent standoff between these two men who clearly shared a history that went far deeper than I’d realized.
“You hired me for my expertise, E,” Flynn added quietly after a long, charged moment. “And my expert opinion is that Lyric did the smart thing by taking dangerous technology out of play. She might’ve even turned Sentinel to slag last night. Problem solved.”
“No, problem multiplied,” Ethan countered and straightened, running a hand over his face. His expression was still rigid but marginally less murderous. “The local authorities are involved. Interpol is sniffing around. And Moreau knows someone is targeting his operation.”
Ozzy cleared his throat. “Actually, he doesn’t.”
All eyes turned to him. He spun his tablet around, showing surveillance footage of the crash site. “I intercepted the comms from Moreau’s security team. They think it was the Chinese. Remember the buyers at the hangar? Wei Zhao? Apparently, you were watching their negotiations break down.”
“That’s... convenient,” Trent said, leaning forward with newfound interest. He looked at Ethan. “Could mean Lyric’s cover is still uncompromised.”
Ethan paced the length of the table, his anger morphing into something more focused. “Is Elisa Deveraux still viable?”
A fair question. I’d been wondering the same thing since we left three bodies cooling in that parking garage.
Even though he’d asked the room and not me specifically, I answered. “So far, yes. We killed all of the guards who saw my face, and I haven’t heard from Moreau. The invitation is still in my possession.” I pulled it from my pocket and placed it on the table. “If he suspected me, he’d have sent someone for this already.”
“Or he’s watching to see what you’ll do,” Alistair said quietly, speaking for the first time.
Flynn’s eyes met mine across the table. We both knew Alistair was right. Moreau was too careful, too calculating to leave things to chance. If he had even a whisper of suspicion about me, he’d be setting traps.
“Then I’ll give him what he expects,” I said firmly. “Elisa Deveraux will arrive at the auction with her security detail, ready to buy Sentinel by any means necessary.”
“And if he’s waiting with a bullet instead of an auction paddle?” Trent asked.
I shrugged. “Then I’ll deal with it.”
“We’ll deal with it,” Flynn corrected, his voice brooking no argument.
Ethan studied us both, his expression unreadable. Something passed between him and Flynn—some silent communication born of shared history that excluded the rest of us.
For the first time, I wondered about that history. Flynn had made it very clear he’d only taken this job initially because of Ethan.
“It gets better,” Ozzy continued, swiping to another screen, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Moreau’s people are in full panic mode. They’re moving the auction up. Tomorrow night, not this weekend.”
My heart skipped. “Tomorrow? Where? Still at the docks?”
Ozzy scowled at me. “Still working on that, but I’ve got algorithms scanning every communication channel Moreau’s ever used.”
Nolan raised a hand. “Uh, question. Why don’t I just fly over the hangar and drop a few high-yield thermobarics and…” He gestured with his hands to mimic an explosion. “… boom. Call it a day?”
“Because we need confirmation,” Ethan said, shutting him down with a look. “We need to verify Sentinel was actually in that truck. And if it wasn’t, we need to find it before Moreau sells it to the highest bidder.” He pinned me with his stare. “If that technology gets loose, it’s a global security nightmare. One rogue drone could assassinate a world leader. A swarm could take out an entire government.”
“And they already evacuated the hangar,” Ozzy said without looking up from his laptop screen. “You just want to blow shit up.”
“Well, yeah.” Nolan grinned unapologetically. “That is literally my job description. Fly things. Blow things up. Look good doing it.”
“That ego of yours is so big, I’m surprised your Irish ass ever get airborne,” Alistair muttered, but there was a hint of fondness in his exasperation.
“Have you been admiring my Irish ass, Preacher?”
“Every time I have to stitch it back together, I wonder what poor life choices brought me here.”
The banter rolled on. It was like hearing a language I almost understood—Nolan’s swagger, Alistair’s dry comebacks, Ozzy’s irritated grunts as a few jabs were aimed in his direction, the half-smiles that flickered across Trent’s usually stoic face. A language built over years of missions, shared trauma, and inside jokes. And I wasn’t fluent yet. Maybe never would be.
“Children,” Ethan snapped, his already thin patience clearly fraying. “Focus.”
As the jokes subsided, he spread his hands flat on the table, leaning in. “The window just narrowed significantly. We have less than twenty-four hours to locate the auction site and prepare infiltration. Lyric’s cover is our only available access point, so we’re going to assume for now it’s still intact. Flynn will stay as her security. Oz—” He looked over at the tech guy. “Get me into Moreau’s systems. I want to know every-fucking-thing he does from here on out.”
“That kind of hacking takes time,” Ozzy said, never taking his eyes off his screen.
“You have twenty-four hours.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. I’m a hacker, not a magician.”
“Just get it done.” Ethan turned to his second-in-command. “Trent, let’s see if we can get Decker here before the auction. We’re going to need his expertise on this.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if the shady bastard already had an invitation to the auction,” Nolan muttered.
“Yes, Maverick, we all know your feelings about him,” Trent replied dryly, already pulling out his phone.
I hadn’t met anyone on the team named Decker yet, and I resisted the urge to ask who he was. Not knowing was just another reminder that I was the outsider here, the replacement part slotted into a machine that had been running smoothly before I arrived.
Ethan continued, “Nolan?—”
“Aye. Air support. I know the drill.”
“Air support with discretion .” Ethan’s emphasis on the last word wasn’t subtle. “No ‘fireworks’ unless I specifically authorize it.”
Nolan looked wounded. “You take all the craic out of flying, boss.”
“I’m not here for your entertainment,” Ethan said, then finally turned to Alistair. “I want every medical contingency covered. Have trauma gear ready for exfil. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
Alistair nodded. “We’re not losing anyone on this mission.”
Unlike their last mission.
Although he didn’t say it out loud, Maya’s ghost still lingered in the room. Would she always be here?
Ethan nodded once, something painful passing across his features before his professional mask slipped back into place. “Kate?”
“Here,” Kate piped up from the speakers of Ozzy’s computer, and I realized with a jolt she’d been listening in this whole time.
“Comb through Moreau’s communications. I want surveillance on every dock, every helipad, every private airfield within fifty miles. I want to know where this fucking auction is happening before we send people into a potential trap.”
“Already on it,” Kate said. “I’m cross-referencing with satellite imagery of unusual activity patterns in the area.”
“Alright.” Ethan straightened, his gaze sweeping over each of us. “Let’s get to work.”
But as everyone else rose to leave, he caught my eye.
“A word?” he said, nodding toward the balcony.
I followed him outside, where the morning air carried the scent of salt and distant smoke—remnants of our handiwork.
Ethan closed the door behind us. “I need to know you’re not compromised.”
“Excuse me?”
“Flynn,” he said simply.
My spine stiffened. “What about him?”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Lyric. I’ve known Flynn for years. I know how he operates, and I know what I’m seeing between you two.”
I kept my expression carefully neutral. “Whatever you think you’re seeing, it doesn’t affect my ability to do my job.”
“Doesn’t it?” Ethan challenged. “You went rogue last night. Both of you. And while it may have worked out this time, I need to know that when the moment comes—and it will come—you’ll make the right call. Even if it means leaving him behind.”
The thought made my chest tighten painfully. “I’ll do whatever the mission requires.”
“Good,” Ethan said, but his expression told me he didn’t believe me. “Because Flynn has a habit of getting people killed.”
The words hit like a physical blow. I kept my face carefully blank, but my pulse quickened. “What does that mean?”
Ethan turned to face the railing, his knuckles white against the metal. The morning sun cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the exhaustion etched there. “There’s a reason he works alone.”
Before I could ask what he meant, the balcony door slid open. Flynn stood there, his arms crossed. “You telling her all my dirty secrets, E?”