Chapter 20
THE ROOM WAS STILL and dark, except for the faint glow bleeding in through the curtains.
Somewhere in the woods, a lone owl called out into the silence.
Beside him, Meaghan slept with her hand resting over his chest, her brow faintly furrowed even in sleep, like part of her still waited for the next blow to fall.
She was exhausted and deserved this peace, and he had no intention of taking it away from her. Besides, if she were awake, she’d never let him leave or insist on going with him.
The wound in his side throbbed, but that wasn’t what kept him from sleep. His mind had been moving all night, parsing angles, voices, loose threads. Blaze’s warning, Tex’s dig, Gage’s suspicion, and the senator’s slippery denial—it all churned together like a storm caught behind his ribs.
Meaghan lay curled beside him, her breathing slow and even, the soft weight of her arm draped across his stomach.
Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but Callen knew he wouldn’t be sleeping again.
The ache in his side was nothing compared to the storm churning in his chest. He needed to fix this, make her safe, and he only saw one way to do that.
He gently shifted, inching her hand off his chest and slipping from under the covers. Her fingers curled instinctively, reaching for him in sleep. It nearly stopped him cold.
Nearly.
He brushed a kiss against her temple before slipping out from under the blanket. She murmured something in her sleep, but didn’t wake.
Good.
Every muscle ached, his body reminding him that pain didn’t wait for permission.
He dressed with practiced ease: dark jeans, a shirt, a holster.
His side throbbed in protest, but pain was an old friend.
He strapped on his sidearm before slipping on tactical boots he could move in.
Knife in the ankle sheath, phone in his back pocket, his go-bag in hand.
He stepped into the hallway with the ghost-silent tread of a man used to breaking out more than breaking in.
Didn’t matter if it hurt.
He had a job to finish.
The safe house was still. No footsteps, no voices, just shadows, lit only by a faint green glow from the battery backup panel near the entry.
It smelled of bleach, iron, and the synthetic plastic tang of unused equipment.
Outside, the world waited, suspended in that breathless hour before dawn, when the sky hovered in bruised navy, and everything felt like it was holding its breath.
He made it as far as the front room before a figure stepped out of the kitchen, leaning casually against the frame.
Elvis. And he looked as if he’d been waiting all night.
“I thought I heard someone sneaking about,” the other man said. “And your ears are drooping, hound dog. What’s going on? You heading out to grab us all some breakfast? Or is something more nefarious going on here?”
Callen gave a quick grunt, more acknowledgment than greeting. “Neither. I’m going to find her father. Get some answers.”
Elvis straightened, all pretense dropping. “By yourself, Wraith? Not a good idea.”
Callen winced at the nickname, one he had avoided using since he left the Rangers, but probably fitting with the way he was sneaking out of the safe house.
It clung to him from his Ranger days, from missions where he vanished into enemy territory, did what needed to be done, and came back with blood on his boots. It wasn’t a name he liked. Not anymore.
“Has to be me. It’s the only move I’ve got left. We’re out of time. And Meaghan… she deserves to know what the hell he’s gotten her into. And she needs to get back to her life, to her students.”
“Gotta give me more than that, man. You know that lady of yours is going to notice when you’re gone, and it won’t be good.”
Callen adjusted the strap on his shoulder, exhaling slowly. “Yeah, I know she will.”
“Then take her.”
“If I bring her, he’ll spin it. Twist her up.
Or worse, he’ll make her doubt everything.
I need him off-balance in order to get the truth.
She wants answers, and I need to get them, and we both know it might not happen simply by asking.
She doesn’t need to be dragged into that.
No guilt, no manipulation. Just the truth. And I’m going to get it for her.”
Elvis crossed his arms over his chest as he cocked a brow. “And you think ghosting her is the way to protect her? Callen, that woman saved your life. She deserves better.”
He looked toward the hallway where she still slept, quiet and safe. For now. “I know she did. And I’d burn the world to keep her breathing. But I have to do this my way.”
“Look, I don’t know the history between the two of you, but from watching you both, it’s obvious there is one. But I also know your lady isn’t some porcelain doll. She’s fire, that one. And if you go without telling her, she’ll come after you. Probably punch you, too.”
“I can live with that if it keeps her safe.” He moved to the door.
Elvis studied him for a moment longer, then tilted his head. “You always were a stubborn son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, well… you didn’t sign up for this gig because we all played nice.”
“That’s not what bothers me. What bothers me is that this isn’t you. Not anymore.”
Callen went still.
“I wasn’t in the Rangers with you like Hawk was, but I heard the stories. I know the reason behind the name. You looked half-dead already when you signed the papers, as I hear it. All rage and silence. The kind of guy who haunted his own damn skin.
Callen looked away, eyes fixed on the treeline outside the high security glass.
Elvis went on. “You’ve loosened up since you got out, putting your demons behind you for the most part, but there was always one demon that refused to leave.
And after seeing the two of you together, I now know what that demon was.
She’s the one you left. I get it. I’ve got one of those myself.
But, Callen… Wraith… you’ve changed, and that little lady’s the one who changed you. Don’t undo that.”
“I’m not,” Callen said. “But if I lose her because I didn’t finish this… if I can’t protect her now, like I didn’t back then… then everything I’ve become means nothing.”
A long silence passed between them as Elvis simply stared at him, jaw tight.
Finally, Elvis blew out a breath as he dragged a hand through his hair. “You better bring your sorry ass back, man. Whole and breathing. Or I swear to God, I’ll find your ghost and punch it myself.”
Callen managed the barest ghost of a smile. “Take care of my girl until I get back.”
“Always. And when you do get back, you owe me the story of you two. What didn’t you protect her from back then?”
Callen stared at him. “The same thing I’m trying to protect her from now. Her father.”
With a curt nod, he slipped out into the quiet, air heavy with the Gulf humidity, and climbed into the SUV. If he were lucky, the bad guys would grab his license plate and think they were heading back to St. Augustine, allowing him to lead them away from Meaghan and the others.
Before starting the engine, he grabbed his phone and dialed. He knew it was early, but he also knew it didn’t matter.
Tex answered on the second ring. “You’re up early. Or is this another ‘I’m about to do something dumb and I need a tech genius’ kind of call?”
A burst of laughter popped out of him as he shook his head. “And good morning to you too. And yes, I need your help. Blaze is still tracking the mercs that New Horizons hired.”
“Fun for him. What do you need?”
“I need a location on Senator Harrington. Should be in Savannah.”
Tex sighed. “You’re taking his daughter to him? Not the move I would make.”
“I didn’t make it. I left her back at the safe house. She doesn’t even know I’m gone yet.”
He heard the other man take a sudden breath. “Ghosting your lady? You’re seriously going rogue right now? So it’s a ‘Wraith mission’ kind of morning. Damn it, Callen, that’s not smart.”
“Just give me the ping, please.”
“After the lecture. You and I both know why you left her. You say it’s protecting her, but it’s really to protect yourself from what happens if she watches you fall apart.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“You sure?” Tex’s tone turned razor-edged. “Blaze filled me on what’s been happening, and after everything the two of you have been through together, I wouldn’t be sneaking out the back door like a coward.”
Callen’s grip tightened on the wheel. “I have to do this my way.”
“Damn it, Callen, this isn’t like it was over there. You’re not that guy anymore.”
Callen’s silence was answer enough.
“She’s not just some asset, Callen,” Tex continued. “You let her in. Hell, you let us all in. And you know what that means. We watch out for each other, no matter what. You better not screw this up. I know what Meaghan means to you.”
“That’s why I’m doing this. To keep her safe, Tex.”
Tex paused. “Yeah? So how’s she gonna feel when she wakes up and finds you gone? You really think she’ll feel safe then?”
Callen worked his hand on the steering wheel, his jaw growing tighter. “I’ll take the hit. Just get me the senator.”
Tex exhaled hard. “Fine. But if you die before I get to say ‘I told you so,’ I’m gonna be very pissed.”
The line clicked, and a text came through a few seconds later. Location: Savannah, GA. Private estate. Top security.
“Appreciate it,” Callen muttered.. “Do me a favor, tell Dane if I don’t check in by tonight—”
Tex cut him off from saying more. “You’ll check in. Or I come hunting.”
Callen almost smiled. “Copy that.”
He ended the call, tossing the phone on the passenger seat as he started the SUV.
Outside, the woods held steady and dark as he pressed on the gas, turning onto the winding dirt road that would spit him out onto a back highway.
The SUV rolled out slowly, tires crunching gravel and pine needles, until the shadows swallowed the safe house behind him, leaving him with the echo of everything he wasn’t saying.
This wasn’t just a mission anymore.
This was personal, and this time, he wasn’t running from something.
He was running toward it.
The asphalt hummed beneath the tires as the SUV chewed up the miles. Pines blurred past on either side, tall and lean like sentries, silent witnesses to the ghosts he carried.
Callen gripped the wheel tighter, fighting the disgust and anger that ripped through him right then.
It wasn’t just adrenaline or strategy fueling him now. It was a memory. Pain with a jagged edge. A conversation he’d buried under years of missions and silence.
He’d been Twenty when Roger Harrington called him in, asking to “have a word” after Sunday service.
Their families had known each other for years, his father and the senator having served together in the Guard back in their twenties.
Callen had grown up hearing stories about how Roger had ambition, while his father had heart.
He never expected the day would come when those differences would matter.
The senator poured two cups of coffee, set one on the edge of the desk, but didn’t motion for Callen to sit. His tone wasn’t angry; it was worse—measured.
“You’re a good kid, Callen. Your father raised you right. You’ve got drive, discipline… potential.” Roger paused, turning the mug in his hand. “But you need to understand something about my daughter. She’s young. Na?ve. She believes life is a storybook, and right now, you’re the hero in her tale.”
Callen had opened his mouth to respond, but Roger had continued, soft and deliberate.
“She needs someone who can stand beside her in this world, not someone who’ll be crushed by it. You think you can survive the weight of politics? Reporters? Scandal? They’ll drag you both through hell, and when it’s done, she’ll hate you for it.”
Callen had felt his pulse climb. “With respect, sir, that’s her choice.”
Roger smiled faintly, like he pitied him. “You remind me of your father. Always thinking loyalty can change the world.” He leaned forward. “And it’s not her choice. It’s mine. I won’t let my daughter sacrifice her future for a boy who hasn’t built his own yet.”
He slid a folder across the desk. Inside Callen glanced over military placement forms, pre-signed recommendations, even a training fast-track Callen hadn’t asked for.
“You want to make something of yourself? Be someone she can be proud of? Prove it. You’ll thank me someday.”
Callen had left that house hollowed out. He’d told himself it was temporary. That he’d come back stronger. But deep down, he’d known it wasn’t a challenge; it was exile dressed as opportunity.
And somewhere along the line, between firefights and deployments, he stopped trying to come back at all.
That’s how Wraith was born—out of a cowardly silence and a father’s manipulation.