Chapter 9 Nightingale
NIGHTINGALE
The first thing I did when I entered the bedroom—aka my prison cell—was draft a message to Kestrel. If anyone could help me disappear, this asset could. Yes, I’d signed up for this heartache when I agreed to come to Glenshadow, but even temporarily was harder than I’d anticipated.
Tag had been crystal clear—what happened at Dunravin ended at Dunravin. No negotiations, no exceptions. He’d drawn his line like a sniper’s bullet, and I was the one bleeding out from it.
Request relocation assistance.
The response came within minutes. Negative. Too much risk. Unknown hostiles tracked you to London safe house. Motivation unclear. Stay put.
My jaw clenched. I extracted myself from Edinburgh alone. Left London safe house before your asset arrived. I don’t need protection.
The cursor blinked for longer this time before Kestrel’s response appeared. Glasgow required Viper’s intervention. London required MacTaggert’s. Pattern suggests escalating danger. Disappearing now would be a mistake.
Then I’ll disappear without your help. I deleted the message rather than send it.
First, announcing my departure, given Kestrel wouldn’t help, would be stupid.
Second, the asset had resources I needed, contacts that could make vanishing easier.
Burning that bridge out of frustration wouldn’t be prudent.
Instead, I powered down the tablet and set it aside.
I lay against the pillows, but sleep felt impossible.
My body remembered things my mind was trying to forget.
The weight of Tag’s hands on my hips. The heat of his mouth against my throat.
The way he’d whispered my name like a prayer when he was inside me.
Three nights of desperate lovemaking that had rewritten every cell in my body, and now, I was supposed to pretend none of it had happened.
My thoughts drifted to his parents. His mother’s abandonment.
His father basically doing the same thing except with alcohol.
Tag had painted them as monsters who’d destroyed each other, but were they really so different from us?
We were managing our own destruction quite efficiently—his through denial, mine through compliance.
Who could tell me more about them? The housekeeper had likely been with the family for years. If so, she’d have known them both. But asking her directly wouldn’t be fair. Not to mention she might alert Tag that I had. Maybe I could figure out a way to approach it casually. Test the waters first.
When a floorboard creaked in the hallway, I went completely still, every nerve ending alive. Footsteps—I knew that stride better than my own heartbeat. Tag had stopped right outside my door.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at the door handle, willing it to turn. Please, I thought desperately. Please just come in. Tell me you were wrong. Tell me you can’t do this, either.
One second. Two. Three. Each one stretched like an eternity until the footsteps resumed.
Anger and disappointment settled on my chest, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Coward. We both were.
After staring at the ceiling for several minutes, I knew sleep wouldn’t come any time soon.
I threw off the covers and padded to the windows, examining them properly for the first time.
I was on the second floor, overlooking the loch.
The windows were old, with thick glass and heavy frames.
They opened, but not wide enough for a person to fit through.
Even if they did, it was a straight drop to the stone below.
No convenient ivy or drainpipes like in novels.
I moved to the other door in the room—not the main entrance, but a side door I’d noticed earlier. The handle didn’t budge when I tried it. Locked from the other side, most likely.
For a moment, I considered picking it. It would be easy enough to do. But what if it led to Tag’s room? Breaking in and finding him asleep or, worse, waking him up and having to explain wouldn’t solve anything. It would only make the emotional agony worse.
I returned to bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin despite the room being warm enough.
Tomorrow, the team would arrive and I’d be forced to stand beside Tag like none of this was killing me.
I’d have to be Special Agent Nassar, not the woman who’d given her virginity to a man who’d warned her they had no future.
Eventually, exhaustion won over anxiety, and I drifted into a restless sleep, dreaming of locked doors and footsteps that didn’t walk away.
I’d barely finished dressing the next morning when a knock came at my door. Not Tag’s—this was sharper, more authoritative.
“Come in,” I called, smoothing my hair back into a tight bun.
Viper entered, her MI6 polish intact despite the early hour. Bellamy Hall had the kind of presence that commanded rooms without effort, and even in Tag’s ancestral home, she moved like she owned the place.
“We need to discuss your status.” She closed the door behind her. “The others are gathering in Tag’s study, but I wanted to speak with you privately first.”
My stomach tightened. “Has there been a development?”
“Your arrangement with MI6 is ending. You’ll return to Unit 23’s direct command for the remainder of the Labyrinth investigation.”
“I see.”
“MacTaggert will resume as your handler.”
No. Please no.
I steeled my expression through sheer force of will. “May I ask why the change?”
Viper moved to the window, gazing out at the loch. “The inter-agency loan was always meant to be temporary. With the investigation centralizing here and the full team mobilizing, MI6 no longer needs to serve as intermediary.”
My mind raced back to the London safe house, to Viper appearing in my doorway that night. She’d been testing me, evaluating my commitment to the mission. Had my swift departure soon after she left triggered this?
“I understand,” I managed, though understanding and accepting were vastly different things.
Her gaze sharpened. “Is there an issue I should be made aware of?”
“I—” I stopped and recalibrated. What could I say that would explain my obvious hesitation? “I’ve appreciated the autonomy of working with MI6. Returning to Unit 23’s structure will be an adjustment.”
She raised a brow. “You are a Unit 23 operative, unless your intention is to leave that role.”
“No, ma’am. It is not.”
“Good.” She moved toward the door, then paused. “The investigation is entering a critical phase. It will require everyone to perform at their highest level. I cannot imagine any reason to anticipate you wouldn’t.”
“Of course not.”
“Typhon should be arriving shortly. The full briefing will begin then.” She opened the door, then glanced back.
“Oh, and, Nassar? The gap between you leaving my presence at the safe house and MacTaggert finding you at King’s Cross—I trust we won’t see a repeat.
” She motioned to the hallway. “Ready to join the others?”
“I’ll be along in a minute.”
She nodded once, then walked out. When the door clicked behind her, I sank onto the bed, my legs unsteady.
Every mission, every briefing, every debrief—I’d be forced to work by Tag’s side.
There was no refusing orders, no explaining why this arrangement was torture without revealing the very thing that would compromise us both.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d asked Kestrel for escape assistance, and instead, the chains had just gotten tighter.
When I entered Tag’s study, where the meeting would take place, our eyes connected.
He stood near the far wall and had been studying a map.
Heat raced through my veins despite every reminder I’d made to myself that we were back to Obsidian and Nightingale, not that I heard his code name used that often anymore.
I looked away, but when I glanced back, he was still watching me.
He strode across the room, in my direction, his eyes never leaving mine. “Mrs. Murray mentioned you hadn’t eaten breakfast.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
His hand rose toward my face, a gesture so familiar from Dunravin that my body leaned toward him instinctively. Then he dropped it, and I stepped away, putting the table between us before taking a seat at the opposite end from where he’d been standing.
As soon as I’d opened my laptop and loaded my notes for the briefing, a helicopter’s distinctive thrum announced Typhon’s arrival. When he entered minutes later, urgency marked his expression. He greeted Tag and Viper as the others entered the room and took their seats.
“Thank you all for being here,” Tag said, looking at those assembled—Con and Lex, Ash and Sullivan, Gus, Renegade, and Archon. “Nightingale will be briefing us on recent intelligence regarding Project Labyrinth.”
I stood, pulling up my files on a digital display that lowered from the ceiling. Every eye in the room tracked to the screen, then back to me. I’d done hundreds of briefings, but this one felt different. Maybe because Tag was watching.
“Before we discuss what I found in Damascus and the developments since then, Sullivan, would you mind giving us an overview of how the investigation into Tower-Meridian began and what happened subsequently?”
“Of course.” She stood and cleared her throat.
“My investigation into Eric Weber began months ago at a charity event in Edinburgh. While he wasn’t in attendance, the announcement of his billion-dollar donation stunned those who were—myself included.
The numbers didn’t add up, and the more I dug, the worse it looked. ”
Manifests appeared on the screen. “Tower-Meridian’s records showed significant irregularities—humanitarian aid shipments arriving thirty percent lighter than their departure weight, temperature logs with gaps of several hours, tracking systems that went dark for extended periods.
My theory was that they were shipping something else entirely, possibly weapons components disguised as medical equipment. ”