2. Rook #2
The nurse’s voice lowered, as if saying the words too loudly might bring the woman back.
“She sat in that chair by the window.”
Rook’s gaze moved toward it.
Empty now.
Too empty.
“She never talked unless she had to,” the nurse continued. “I never saw her sleep. She didn’t eat in front of us. She never asked for anything.”
“Military?” Sniper asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Government?” Fathom asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What did she look like?”
The nurse shook her head slowly.
“Like someone you don’t ask questions.”
Rook studied her face. “That isn’t a description.”
“She was dressed in black most of the time. Dark hair. I couldn’t tell you how long because she kept it pulled back.”
Rook waited.
The nurse swallowed.
“She was beautiful.”
Something about the reluctant admission caught his attention.
Not because of the word.
Because the nurse seemed almost embarrassed to say it.
Beautiful didn’t fit with the rest of the description.
Not until the nurse added, “But she looked at people like she already knew ten ways to kill them.”
Sniper glanced at Fathom. “That sounds more useful.”
The nurse didn’t smile.
“She was armed as heavily as any soldier I’ve ever seen. But quiet. Controlled. She never threatened anyone.”
She paused.
“She didn’t have to.”
“What does that mean?” Rook asked.
“It means people turned around.”
“Who?”
“Doctors. Nurses. Security. Military personnel. Anyone who came in too quickly or asked too many questions.”
Rook’s blood turned cold.
“Military personnel came here?”
“Twice.”
The heart monitor sped up.
“What branch?”
“They weren’t in uniform.”
“Then how do you know they were military?”
“Because she called them colonel and major.”
Silence descended over the room.
The betrayal hadn’t ended on the mountain.
It had followed them here.
“What happened?” Sniper asked.
“The first man said he needed to verify the identities of three patients brought in after an overseas incident.”
The nurse glanced toward the empty chair.
“She stood in front of your door and asked to see his authorization.”
“He didn’t have it,” Fathom guessed.
“No.”
“What did she do?”
“Nothing. She just looked at him.”
Sniper’s mouth tightened. “And?”
“He left.”
The nurse’s fingers curled around the clipboard.
“The second man made it inside Mr. Douglas’s room.”
Sniper straightened. “When?”
“Six days ago. He wore a doctor’s coat, but he wasn’t one of ours.”
Rook’s anger went cold.
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. She followed him into the stairwell.”
“And?”
“He never came back.”
That didn’t necessarily mean the woman had killed him.
But nobody inside the room was foolish enough to dismiss the possibility.
“I’ve worked trauma for twelve years,” the nurse continued. “I’ve seen soldiers, agents, armed guards, and families ready to fight an entire hospital. I’ve never seen anyone like her.”
Fathom’s voice was quiet. “Was she here for all three of us?”
The nurse nodded.
“She moved between your rooms. She knew when your vital signs changed before the monitors alerted. She knew every person who came onto the floor. She knew when someone didn’t belong.”
Rook looked toward the chair again.
He could almost see her there.
Silent.
Watching.
Guarding three men who should have died.
Something stirred at the edge of his memory.
Smoke.
The smell of blood.
A dark figure leaning over him.
A black glove against the side of his neck.
Then—
A woman’s voice.
Not loud.
Not frightened.
Angry.
Not him.
Rook tried to grasp the memory.
It slipped away.
“Where is she now?” he asked.
The nurse looked at him.
“You woke up.”
“So?”
“She left.”
The answer felt wrong.
Too clean.
Too planned.
“As soon as she learned you were conscious,” the nurse said, “and as soon as the doctors told her all three of you were going to survive, she disappeared.”
Rook stared at the empty chair.
Someone had pulled them from a death trap.
Someone had transported them under false identities.
Someone had guarded their rooms because she expected the enemy to come finish what the mountain had started.
And she had vanished the moment she knew Rook was awake.
“Did she leave anything?” he asked.
The nurse shook her head. “Not that I saw.”
Rook looked down at his hands.
Questions crowded inside his mind.
Who was she?
Why had she risked her life to save them?
How had she known about the ambush?
And why did the fragment of her voice feel strangely familiar?
He shifted against the pillows.
Something hard pressed beneath his left hand.
Rook frowned.
He pulled the pillow aside.
A silver coin lay beneath it.
The metal gleamed in the morning light.
A sword was engraved into one side of the coin.
Silver blade.
Dark wings spreading behind it.
No words.
No insignia he recognized.
Rook picked it up.
The coin was cold and heavier than he expected.
Sniper moved closer.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
Fathom held out his hand. “Let me see.”
Rook turned the coin over.
A narrow piece of paper had been folded beneath it.
He opened the note.
Two words had been printed in black ink.
STAY DEAD.
No signature.
No explanation.
Only an order.
Rook stared at it.
Sniper read over his shoulder.
“She’s friendly.”
“She saved our lives,” Fathom said.
“That doesn’t make her friendly.”
“No,” Rook murmured. “It makes her involved.”
He closed his fingers around the coin.
The engraved sword pressed into his palm.
The woman knew who they were.
She knew someone had betrayed them.
She knew the people responsible believed all nine men were dead.
And she wanted it to stay that way.
Rook looked at Sniper.
Then Fathom.
His brothers.
The only ones he had left.
“What happens if we report in?” Sniper asked.
“We tell the traitor he failed,” Rook said.
“And give him another chance to finish the job,” Fathom added.
The monitor continued its steady rhythm.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Alive.
Rook thought about the six coffins waiting to be lowered into American soil.
He thought about Tex’s daughter.
Viking’s mother.
Every promise made on that mountain.
Then he looked down at the note again.
STAY DEAD.
For the first time since opening his eyes, grief wasn’t the only thing inside him.
There was a purpose now.
Cold.
Dangerous.
Alive.
Rook closed his hand around the silver sword.
“Then we stay dead.”
Sniper’s expression hardened.
Fathom slowly nodded.
Rook looked toward the empty chair beside the window.
Somewhere out there, a woman with no name was trusting them to understand her warning.
He intended to find her.
But first, he was going to bury his brothers.
Then he was going to find the people who had put them in those coffins.