Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
ALPHABET
By the time Voodoo’s truck rumbled back up the long gravel drive, I’d already run four different search sweeps, two encrypted message threads with overseas contacts, and one deep-dive scrape on every Syndicate affiliate who’d so much as sneezed in the last twenty-four hours.
Nothing. Again.
Goblin nudged my boot with his nose and I reached down to ruffle his ears. He leaned into my hand, warm and solid, reminding me I was here, not buried in the digital dark again.
But Amorette wasn’t here. That part hit me every damn day.
Three months back at Base, and the trail felt colder by the hour. Even so, I kept digging, because I wanted to look Gracie in the eye and mean it when I said, I did everything I could to find her sister.
And because we didn’t leave people behind. Not ever.
The new deck was starting to look like an actual structure instead of a fever dream. Bones and Lunchbox were knee-deep in lumber, tools, and a debate about torque angles that had devolved into insults about each other’s math skills.
Bones hammered something with way too much force. “Lunchbox, I swear to God, if you tell me one more time that I should ‘eyeball the measurement,’ I’m gonna eyeball you off this deck.”
“You can’t eyeball structural integrity, Bones.” Lunchbox held up a level with saintly calm. “We’ve discussed this.”
“You’ve discussed this,” Bones growled.
I smothered a laugh. Then the crunch of tires on gravel had all three of us glancing up. We set aside the tools to circle around to meet them. Voodoo hopped out of the truck first, sunglasses on, smirk firmly in place.
Grace slid out of the passenger seat—jeans, sweatshirt, hair up, cheeks pink from the sun and wind. She looked… good. Better. Lighter.
“Got the doors,” Voodoo called, tapping the side of the truck. “And snacks. Firecracker stole half my trail mix but I let it slide.”
“It was mostly raisins.” Grace held up the bag.
“Blasphemy,” Lunchbox muttered. Then louder, “Grab an end?”
Grace headed over to climb up in the truck bed, but Voodoo lifted her off and Bones set her to the side where she burst out laughing at them. Not for the first time I marveled at how seamlessly she fit into our world—even the rough, sawdust-filled parts.
Between the four of us, we unloaded the doors. They were beautiful, heavy as hell, framed in rich walnut to match the suite upstairs. Grace brushed her fingers along the glass like she was imagining the view already.
She would have that view. She’d dreamed of it. Maybe she deserved more than that view. One by one, we carried them around to store in the temp shed, we’d set up under the deck. Now that they were here, we could cut through the wall, but we would need to do some more work to set up for that.
Once they were secured, she stepped back, rubbing her palms on her jeans, her eyes flicked from me to Bones to Lunchbox, and then over to Voodoo.
“So,” she said, casual—too casual. “I told Voodoo something today.”
Bones straightened, expression shifting into that heavy unreadable wall he used when preparing for something unpleasant.
Voodoo leaned a hip against one of the posts, arms crossed, waiting.
“Shoot,” Lunchbox said gently.
“I’m… thinking about going back to work.”
Grip going white-knuckled on the hammer he’d just picked back up, Bones went absolutely still. His jaw locked so hard I heard the grind from ten feet away.
“No,” he said flatly. “Absolutely not.”
Grace blinked. “Bones—”
“No.” He stabbed the hammer toward the ground like he was punctuating it. “You’ve been off the radar for a year. The second your face hits a billboard, we’ll have people up our asses.”
Lunchbox winced. “He’s not wrong. It would put you in the spotlight again. Cameras. Reporters. Schedules. Travel. Less control.”
Grace’s shoulders nipped inward, barely, the way they sometimes did when she was absorbing impact. But she didn’t back down.
“I miss it,” she said quietly. “I miss me. Or that part of me.”
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Lunchbox shot me a look. The “are you going to say something?” look.
I didn’t. Not yet. Because every scenario was already firing behind my eyes—
Grace doing shoots in controlled environments?
Possible. High monitoring.
Grace traveling out of state?
Complicated. Risk spike.
Grace stepping out in public, photographed, tagged, tracked, discussed online?
At least twenty countermeasures needed upfront.
Bones pacing beside her, protective instincts spiking so hard he’d probably punch the nearest camera?
Guaranteed.
Grace seeing old colleagues, old friends, people who’d known her before?
Unpredictable. Could be healing. Could be a landmine.
Grace wanting her life back?
Necessary.
Grace being hunted again?
Unacceptable.
“Bones,” Grace said softly, stepping closer. “I’m not asking to sign a thousand endorsements tomorrow. I’m just… thinking. Maybe rebuilding. Maybe slowly.”
“Dollface…” Bones exhaled like she’d punched him in the lungs.
“I’m not fragile,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes.
Fuck if I didn’t feel that like a knife slipped right between my ribs.
“She’s not asking for permission,” Voodoo said gently. “She’s asking what it looks like.”
“We can build safeguards.” Lunchbox nodded, thoughtful. “Start small. Interviews with vetted people. Shoots on our terms. Maybe bring an agent on board who understands discretion.”
Grace’s eyes brightened a little. “Yes. Like that.”
Bones shot the three of us the dirtiest look imaginable. “I see how it is. Mutiny.”
“Collective problem-solving,” Voodoo corrected cheerfully.
“Same thing,” Bones muttered.
Grace stepped closer to him and slid her hand along his arm. “I just need parts of my life back.”
He sagged. Just a little. Then he covered her hand with his own.
“You’re asking me to let you walk into the open,” he said. “After everything.”
“I’m asking you,” she whispered, “to walk with me into it.”
Something kicked under my ribs. I finally spoke. “We can do it.”
All eyes snapped to me—including Grace’s soft, hopeful blue ones.
“We prep,” I continued. “We plan. We build a firewall around your name. We manage every appearance, every shoot, every digital trail. We vet your agent, your circles, the locations. We put buffers in place. We decide what level of anonymity you want and where.”
Her throat moved in a tight swallow. “You really think it could work?”
“I think,” I said, “that the only thing worse than risking letting you live your life… is asking you to keep hiding from it.”
She took a tiny step toward me. Goblin rose too, tail thumping once, like he was taking her side simply because she was Grace.
I let a little smile curve my mouth. “We’ll make it safe, Gracie. I’ll run the logistics. I’ll run the checks. I’ll run everything. But if something doesn’t look right? We pull you out.”
Her voice shook. “AB…”
“This is non-negotiable,” I said quietly. “I want you to be happy. I want you to have the life you want. But I want you alive more than any of that. If something doesn’t check out, then we extract—no arguments, no debates.”
Her breath caught. Her perfect white teeth scraped over her lower lip. She’d been worrying at it again, turning it redder and making it more plump.
The guys were not thrilled with the response, Bones least of all. I could practically read him running all the possible scenarios to keep her safe. We all were. This was not one time where he would just cave because she wanted it.
The threat was too real.
Grace wiped at her eyes and whispered, “So… that’s not a no?”
I shook my head slowly. “It’s a not yet. Until we’re ready. Not to mention we need to work out the story to cover your absence. I took care of a lot of your accounts, and handled everything I could remotely…”
Surprise flickered over her face.
“People do know you’re missing but they don’t have any information on it.” They’d filed a missing persons case, but the investigators hadn’t spent more than a week on it. The case had already been cold when her absence had been reported. No leads, no hints, and no evidence to follow.
Sinclair’s people had done too good a job scrubbing Amorette’s absence, so it was never tied to Grace’s.
Since they didn’t have any family to report it, she was just…
gone. In some ways, it was the safest outcome for Grace.
No one knew where she was or who she was with. We could and would keep her safe.
Going back into the world would strip away one real layer of security. She exhaled in relief, trembling at the edges.
Bones sighed long and heavy. “Dollface, if you’re doing this, I’m escorting you everywhere until you’re eighty.”
“Deal.” Grace grinned, then hugged him. Over her head, Bones’ gaze fixed on mine. Taking her back out there would mean changes for all of us. The work we did required us to be ghosts. Ghosts couldn’t be in the sun with Gracie.
I nodded once. Guilt raked through me, because I really didn’t want her going back to that life. To being treated like a piece of meat put there for others to ogle and desire. The first time someone came on to her or propositioned her, they would disappear.
Lunchbox clapped his hands once. “Steaks are going on the grill in fifteen. Anyone planning to eat should wash off the sawdust.”
Bones grumbled, but he kissed her with such ferocity it silenced everyone. Then he headed inside with Voodoo to wash up and Goblin trotted after Lunchbox who followed.
Grace stepped toward me, slipping her arms around my torso. I hugged her back without hesitation. “Thank you,” she whispered into my chest.
“For what?”
“For trying. For everything.”
I rested my chin lightly on her hair. “I’m not done trying. Not even close.” I’ll find your sister. Somehow. Some way. I’ll find her…
A week later, my office was a cave of cold light and humming processors—every monitor running a different search, every encrypted channel blinking results that told me absolutely nothing new.
Nothing about Amorette.