Chapter 18
eighteen
Dominic Wilde couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept.
Two days?
Three?
The hours blurred together in a haze of frantic phone calls, emergency meetings, and the constant, gnawing dread that had settled in his gut like a block of ice since Elliot had gone dark.
Elliot wasn’t like the rest of them. He never— never —missed a check-in. His brother was meticulous to the point of obsession about protocols, especially communication protocols, so if he wasn’t responding, it wasn’t because he’d forgotten or decided the rules didn’t apply to him.
Something was definitely wrong.
Elliot was in trouble, and the thought made Dominic’s chest tighten until he could barely breathe.
“How long has it been since his last check-in?” he asked, pacing the length of the Wilde Security ops center for what felt like the thousandth time. The massive digital clock on the wall showed 3:17 AM, but time had lost all meaning.
Davey looked up from his laptop, the blue light casting shadows under his eyes. “Fifty-eight hours, seventeen minutes. Nothing since his first check-in with Rowan and me.”
Dominic ran a hand through his hair, which already stood on end from the countless times he’d repeated the gesture. “And we’re sure the satellite uplink is working?”
“Triple-checked,” Daphne confirmed from in front of her massive bank of computers, her voice tight with worry. Daphne never showed too much emotion, so the fact that she was now told him all he needed to know about how bad the situation was. “The signal’s not getting through from his end.”
“That’s it,” he said, spinning toward Davey. “I’m going after him.”
Davey’s head snapped up. “Dom?—”
“Don’t ‘Dom’ me. Our brother is out there, and if he’s not responding, it’s because he can’t.”
The image of Elliot trapped somewhere in the Antarctic wilderness, injured or worse, filled his head. Nightmare fuel kind of stuff, and he wanted to punch something.
“I understand how you feel,” Davey said, his voice softening. “Believe me, I feel it, too. But we need to be strategic about this. Charging in without a plan won’t help Elliot.”
“We’ve had fifty-eight hours to be strategic! What we need now is boots on the ground.”
He watched Davey’s expression shift into that familiar look of older-brother patience that usually made Dom want to punch something. But behind it, Dominic saw the same fear he felt. Davey was just better at hiding it.
“Griff is already in Chile,” Davey said, rising from his chair with a slight wince—his old injury always acted up when he was stressed.
“He needs a team.”
“I know, which is why you’re going with him,” Davey said, the words landing like an unexpected gift. “A jet is fueled and waiting at Teterboro. You leave in two hours.”
Dominic froze mid-pace. “Wait, what? You’re letting me go?”
“Letting you?” Davey’s mouth quirked up in a humorless smile. “I was about to order you to. You think I’d trust anyone else with Elliot’s life?”
Relief flooded through him so fast it made him dizzy. Or maybe that was the lack of sleep. He nodded sharply, already mentally packing his go-bag. “When do I leave?”
“Wheels up in ninety minutes,” Davey replied. “Daphne’s putting together a tech package for you, and Sully’s pulling together the team.”
Dominic’s eyebrows shot up. “Sully’s back?”
Sullivan O’Connell had been on leave since his twin brother betrayed WSW several months ago—turned out Brody was working for Praetorian and tried to kill Davey, then Elliot, then their cousin Liam, and finally Sully himself.
Sully had taken it about as hard as could be expected, and nobody thought he’d be coming back to active duty anytime soon.
“He cares about Elliot.” Davey’s expression softened slightly. “And he knows what it’s like to lose family.”
The mention of loss made Dominic’s stomach clench again. No. He wasn’t going to lose Elliot. Not today, not ever. They’d already come too damn close once this year thanks to Brody O’Connell. “Good. Who else are you tapping for this?”
Davey slid a tablet across the desk. “These are the personnel files for the team we’re assembling. Griffin will meet you in Santiago with two of our best from the South American division.”
Dominic scrolled through the files, recognizing some of the faces from previous missions. Good people. Skilled. Dependable. The kind you wanted at your back when things went sideways.
But he paused on Jean-Sabin Cavalier’s picture. He loved the guy like a brother, but the Cajun wasn’t known for his love of cold weather.
He held the tablet up. “Sabin? In Antarctica? Really?”
Yeah, that sounded like Sabin. He was a wildcard, but he’d would walk through hell in his bare feet for those he considered his.
“Alright.” Dom handed the tablet back and checked his watch. Eighty-seven minutes until wheels up. Just enough time to grab his gear, review the files, and down enough caffeine to keep him functioning.
“Dom,” Davey called as he turned to leave. “Bring our brother home.”
The words weren’t just an order. They were a plea.
“Count on it.”