CHAPTER 70 #2
Brynn’s expression hardened. “She wanted to use the system to expose innocent people.”
“She wanted to expose anyone who threatened her and erase anyone who paid enough,” he said. “I wanted access to the same so I could expose the corrupt people hiding behind it.”
“And if you refused her?” I asked.
“She would have investigated why,” he said. “The Gemini Protocol could have exposed Lev before I understood enough of it to protect myself.”
I tightened my grip on the rail. “What did we do with her?”
His expression didn’t change. “The Bratva will handle the scene.”
“What will they be told?” I asked.
“As far as they’re concerned, she betrayed us.” His gaze held mine. “And I killed her.”
Rook moved away from the window. “We have the repository.”
I looked at her. “Define have.”
“We secured the physical archive before the Bratva reached the site,” Rook said. “The evidence was copied and verified, then Brynn initiated the release schedule. The files are already moving through independent servers in six jurisdictions.”
“Innocent identities?” I asked.
“Protected,” Rook said. “The releases are limited to clients, payment structures, operational commands, and verified criminal activity. Victim files and protected witnesses are sealed.”
“You verified that?” I asked.
Rook gave a single nod. “I did.”
“And the system?” I asked.
“Ours too,” she said. “The original access points are gone, and the architecture has been moved somewhere Tomar’s clients can’t reach it.”
My grip tightened on the rail. “Who controls it now?”
Rook held my stare. “We do.”
“If the architecture still exists, it can still be used.” I reached for the rail and tried to sit higher.
“And you were shot less than twelve hours ago,” Brynn said, pressing me back against the pillows.
“That’s the point,” Rook said. “Just not by them.”
Brynn kept one hand against my chest. “You can lock it down when you’re out of the hospital. Tonight, you’re leaving it alone.”
Harrison’s mouth moved as though he was suppressing another smile.
I looked at him. “Don’t.”
The resemblance in his expression made something twist inside me.
He had smiled that way before Minsk.
Before the blood.
Before I watched strangers carry him out of the café.
Brynn followed my gaze.
Her anger eased, but her hand did not leave mine.
“I have an operation in America coming up,” he said. “Your help would be appreciated when the time comes.”
His attention dropped to the bandages across my chest. “When you’re recovered.”
“What kind of operation?” I asked.
Brynn turned toward me. “Absolutely not.”
“I asked a question,” I said.
“You were already planning,” Brynn said.
“I was gathering information,” I said.
“You were being an idiot,” Brynn said.
Harrison looked down.
His shoulders moved once.
Brynn pointed at him without turning around. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “Great. Now there are two of you.”
His attention remained on us.
“Just don’t shut me... us out again,” I said.
The words came out before I could reduce them into something less exposed.
His expression changed. “Jameson.”
“If there’s another operation, tell me,” I said. “If you need help, ask. But don’t disappear and decide it’s safer for everyone if we think you’re dead.”
He held my stare. “I won’t.”
“Come to Greece when you can,” I said.
Brynn looked at me, but I kept my attention on him.
“There’s room,” I added. “Or there can be.”
He lowered his gaze for a moment. “I can’t go now.”
“I know,” I said.
“But I might buy a house there,” he said.
Brynn blinked. “A house.”
“A vacation home,” he said.
Brynn studied him. “You don’t seem like someone who takes vacations.”
“I’ve been told I should develop interests outside organized crime,” he said.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
He looked at me again. “I want to know her.”
My throat tightened. “You will.”
He glanced at Brynn. “And Brynn.”
She gave him a cautious look. “That sounds vaguely threatening.”
“It wasn’t intended to,” he said.
Brynn’s mouth twitched. “It needs work.”
“I have time,” he said.
The words carried more than the conversation allowed.
Time.
He stopped beside Rook.
For the first time since I woke, she looked uncertain around him.
Their voices dropped too low for me to catch more than fragments.
“You should have contacted me,” Rook said.
“I know,” he answered.
A few quieter words passed between them.
Rook’s jaw tightened. “You don’t get to call that protection.”
His response was too low to hear.
She held his gaze for another second. “We’re discussing Minsk.”
“When you’re ready,” he said.
Rook gave him a look that belonged to years I had not been part of. “Don’t disappear before then.”
“I won’t,” he said.
Harrison reached for the door.
Then he looked back at me.
Not Lev.
My brother.
“I’ll come to Greece,” he said. “Not immediately. But I’ll come.”
I could not make my voice work for several seconds.
“Good,” I said.
He nodded and opened the door, then looked back at Rook once more. “Take care of Gemini.”
The door closed behind him.
Rook stayed focused on the empty doorway as something shifted in her expression.
“Rook?” Brynn asked.
She shook her head, a tiny smile pulling at her mouth. “Of course.”
“What?” Brynn asked.
“Tomar didn’t name Serpens Geminus or the Gemini Protocol,” Rook said. “Harrison did.”
Brynn looked toward me.
Rook continued. “He used to call Jameson Gemini. It was his codename before Minsk.”
Warmth spread slowly through my chest as the memory surfaced.
Two boys lying beneath the sloped ceiling of our bedroom while rain struck the windows.
Harrison holding a book above us, impatient with the ending.
Castor, mortal.
Pollux, immortal.
One brother dead. The other refusing eternity without him.
Neither one left behind.
Brynn watched my face. “Why Gemini?”
“The twins,” I said. “Castor and Pollux.”
Her thumb stilled against my hand.
“Harrison hated the ending,” I said. “Pollux only found a way to share immortality after Castor was already dead.”
Rook’s expression softened. “That sounds like him.”
“He said I would have found another way. One where neither brother had to be lost first,” I said.
Brynn’s fingers tightened around mine. “So he started calling you Gemini.”
I nodded. “Because I planned for both of us. He said I would always find the outcome where we both survived.”
Rook looked toward the closed door again. “So he carried the name into the system.”
Not because Gemini belonged to Tomar.
Because it had belonged to me first.
Rook released a slow breath. “I should check the release schedule.”
“And then sleep,” Brynn said.
“I’ll consider it,” Rook said.
Brynn gave her a flat look. “That means no.”
“It means I’ll consider it,” Rook said as she left and the door closed behind her.
Brynn looked toward it, then back at me. “You invited a Bratva operative to live near our daughter.”
“He’s my brother,” I said.
“He’s also apparently an international ghost employed by a secret organization that kidnaps dying men from ambulances,” Brynn said.
“A vacation home isn’t the same as living with us,” I said.
“How far away do you think he’ll buy it?” Brynn asked.
I considered Harrison’s approach to proximity, surveillance, and control. “That depends. Do you want us to stay near Messini and Leo and Marina, or somewhere else?”
“Close-ish,” she said. “Near enough to see them without sharing a driveway.”
“I spent years believing Harrison was dead, and he spent them unable to reach me,” I said. “Immediate proximity may not be the most measured response. I think a reasonable boundary would be at least ten minutes.”
“Possibly fifteen,” I added. “He will resist.”
Brynn studied me. “He’ll resist, or you will?”
I looked away. “Both.”
Her mouth curved. “Ten minutes it is, then.”
I did not argue.
She adjusted her hand inside mine. “And you can help Leo. He always has something breaking, growing, or requiring a system no one else understands.”
“I know nothing about olive trees.”
Her smile faltered. “I can’t watch you get shot one more time.” Her voice broke. “You’re retiring, and you’re going to make olive oil with Leo.”
“Retirement seems inefficient,” I said.
“I don’t care.” She tightened her fingers around mine. “Maybe I’ll let you near the bees when we need honey.”
“I have no experience with bees,” I said.
Her chin lifted. “You’ll learn.”
“Brynn.”
“No.” Her tears spilled over. “No more disappearing. No more bullets. No more deciding that your body is the acceptable cost of keeping everyone else alive.”
“I would make the same decision,” I said.
“I know,” she whispered. “That’s the problem.”
“You told me love was when someone is in danger and every other priority stops mattering,” I said.
I pulled her hand against my chest, careful of the bandages. “I love you, Brynn. That’s why nothing else mattered.