Chapter 6 Marshall #2
He looked away, jaw working. Same old Norah. Same need to make sense of chaos. He’d loved that about her once. It terrified him now.
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Then here’s what needs to happen next,” he said finally. “You create distance from this. Move the data to a neutral review, and keep your name off anything that smells like accusation.”
She arched a brow. “You think that saves me?”
“Probably not. But it buys us time.”
“To do what?” Curious, brave, infuriating woman.
“We can build a case without your name on it. If there’s a fuse, we’ll trace it back to whoever’s holding the match.”
“And in the meantime?” she asked. “You follow me home?”
He almost smiled again. “In the meantime, you stop carrying copies with you.”
Her eyes widened, too fast to hide it. “How—”
There were few things in this world he knew as well as he knew Norah’s incredible mind.
Which was why he could guess exactly what she would have done as a failsafe with data she suspected.
“You’re careful,” he said. “Careful people hedge. They print one page. Fold it small. Slide it into a notebook.” His voice softened. “You need to burn it. Tonight.”
The air between them thickened. She was already calculating whether to listen to him. He could see the notes moving behind her eyes—risk, reward, proof, panic—clicking into place. He could tell she was going to refuse.
And then she would do what he said anyway. He could live with that.
“You really think you can order me around?” There was the challenge, right on cue.
“I think I’m the only one trying to keep you alive.”
Norah’s entire body tightened. “Dang it, Marshall. That’s not your job anymore.”
“That doesn’t mean I quit caring about you.”
The words were out before he could stop them.
She froze, and his stomach dropped. He hadn’t meant to hand her that piece of himself again.
His heart kicked once, hard, and his fingers twitched.
He wanted to pull her back, to make her understand.
But he shoved his hands into his coat pockets instead, fingers curling into fists.
Control was safer than impulse.
“You left, remember?” she said quietly. “You walked away and never looked back.”
He stared past her, toward the red blur of a passing bus. “You told me to go. And believe me, I looked back,” he said. “Just not soon enough.” It was more than he meant to give, but the truth burned cleaner than excuses.
For a long moment neither of them spoke. The city noise filled the space between them—tires hissing on wet pavement, the hum of a bus engine, the slow tick of the pedestrian signal. The world kept moving like it didn’t care who got left behind.
Finally, she drew a breath. “Then stop trying to protect me. If you want to help, let me do my job.”
He shook his head once. “If you won’t walk away, I’ll make you.”
Her chin lifted. “You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
The words came out rougher than he meant, low and certain, a promise and a prayer tangled into one.
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
He didn’t argue. “Go home, Norah.”
She turned toward the crosswalk, the light flashing green.
He waited until she disappeared down the Metro stairs before a desperate plea slipped out, silent but fierce. Please, God, keep her out of the line of fire.
The words startled him more than he wanted to admit. The prayer felt foreign in his own mind, like muscle memory from a body he didn’t live in anymore. It didn’t fix the hollow in his chest or the creeping certainty that faith wasn’t going to be enough.
So he did what he always did.
He went back to controlling what he could.
Marshall pulled his phone from his coat pocket, thumb hovering over Joey’s name before pressing call.
She answered on the first ring. “Did you convince her to drop it?”
“Not even close.” He turned his back to the street, scanning the glow of passing traffic as if the motion might steady him. “I need eyes on her.”
A low whistle cut through the line. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” The words felt heavier than they should have. “She’s too stubborn to let this go. I want digital eyes on her home network, her phone traffic—light touch. Nothing that spooks her.”
Joey muttered something under her breath—half complaint, half concern. “You’re crossing a line, boss.”
“I’m keeping her alive.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?”
He didn’t answer. The silence stretched until Joey sighed. “All right. I’ll set a soft perimeter. We’ll monitor her network activity, look into security feeds if she has them.”
“Good,” he said. “If anyone starts watching her too closely, I want to know first.”
“Other than us, you mean? Copy that,” she said. “You sure you’re all right?”
Marshall looked up at the Summit tower, the scattered lit windows remaining gleamed like indifferent stars. Tomorrow, she’d be there, still chasing the truth because she didn’t care that it was chasing her back.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Send me the feeds.”
He ended the call, pocketed the phone, and exhaled into the cold night.