Chapter 23
When they got back to the estate, the dining room glowed with amber lamplight against centuries-old stone.
The long table was laden with roasted meats, crusty bread, and wine that caught the light like liquid garnet.
Fly picked at his food, his frustration a low-grade fever beneath his skin, but each time Alessia drifted into the room, refilling his glass, brushing past his chair, the heat subsided into something manageable.
She catered to him with deliberate care, her fingers trailing surreptitiously across his shoulder, his wrist, the back of his neck, each touch a silent promise that comforted him while his mind raced, devising, calculating, planning.
“You can’t save the world on an empty stomach,” she whispered.
Her teasing lifted some of the frustration weighing on him, but his mind immediately snapped back to the problem. Why is the math not working? What am I missing?
Easy leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath him, and expelled a long, weary sigh.
"Are we done with the visions?" he asked, his voice carrying the rough edge of exhaustion.
He looked from Fly to Flash to Lechuza, his eyes shadowed.
"Because I'm not sure if I have any more room in my head and heart for any more of you two's trauma.
" He paused, his jaw tightening. "That time of history was terrifying. "
Lechuza reached across the table, her fingers finding Flash's hand and interlacing with quiet intimacy.
She looked at each of them in turn, Easy, Shark, Tex, the others, her throat working with emotion.
"I can't express my gratitude enough to all of you," she said, her voice steady but thick.
"For your support, your risk, your skills, and your compassion through all of it.
" She squeezed Flash's hand. "We still have a ways to go, and I know we'll succeed, because everything rides on it. "
Easy leaned forward, his elbows hitting the table with solid weight. He held her gaze, unflinching. "Lady," he said, respect warming his tone, "you’re one of the toughest, most determined women I've ever met."
"He should know. He's married to a sassy piece of work," Shark interjected from down the table, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"I met her," Lechuza said, her lips curving into a knowing smile that spoke of shared understanding between women who loved difficult men.
Flash chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Easy looked at him, pointing a finger for emphasis. "She's a SEAL babe, Flash. A keeper."
"Hoo-yah!" The chorus erupted around the table, the battle cry bouncing off the stone walls, binding them together in the ancient ritual of warriors who had survived the impossible.
Easy's grin turned mischievous, the heaviness lifting momentarily from his shoulders.
"Can I say, in the past, badass conquistador?
Come on. Am I right?" He looked around the table, and the guys all nodded, some of them grinning, others raising their glasses in salute. "Can you still ride like that?"
Flash chuckled, shaking his head. "Leave it to you to take a turbulent time in history to an adrenaline rush."
"It's not just that," Easy continued, his expression sobering.
He leaned forward, his voice dropping with genuine gravity.
"Man, you gave her everything. I have so much respect for you.
" He stood, his chair scraping against the stone floor, and came around the table.
Flash rose to meet him, and Easy grabbed him into a hard hug, clapping his back with the force of brotherhood. "I love you, man."
He pulled back, then bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to Lechuza's cheek. "Both of you rest easy," he murmured.
Tex rose, his commanding presence filling the room as he looked over the assembled team. "Get your asses to bed," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. "All of you."
"Yes, sir, LT." Easy snapped a sharp salute, and the room emptied in a shuffle of chairs and fading footsteps, the weight of the day finally settling over them like a blanket.
But Tex remained. He moved to Fly's side, his hand coming down heavy on Fly's shoulder, pinning him to his chair with the pressure of rank and concern. "That includes you, Visionary."
Fly looked up, meeting his lieutenant's eyes. "I'll try to turn off my brain."
"Ten hours max," Tex said, his voice low and serious. "Then we move this forward."
Fly held up his hand, palm out, a gesture of understanding and commitment. "You don't have to say it. It rests on our shoulders, me, Flash, and Lechuza." He dropped his hand, his gaze steady. "We won't let you down."
Tex nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Fly's face. "You were targeted by Chaos himself, Fly. He might underestimate you, but we're counting on that."
The words hung between them, heavy with implication. Fly felt the weight of it, the strategy and the danger, coiling in his gut. "Thank you for believing in us."
"We're going to bring North home," Tex said, his voice ironclad. "No man left behind."
Fly's chest tightened.
Pushing back from the table, the legs of his chair scraped against the stone floor with a sound that seemed too loud in the settling quiet.
The others had dispersed, their footsteps fading down the corridor like echoes surrendering to night.
He stood for a moment in the empty dining room, the guttering candles casting long, reaching shadows against the ancient walls, and he let his gaze sweep the darkness beyond the archway.
He found her in the kitchen, her silhouette framed against the moonlight pouring through the tall window as she rinsed wine glasses. She didn't turn when he entered, but her shoulders lifted with awareness, her spine straightening as if she could feel his presence like a physical touch.
"Alessia."
She set the glass down with a soft clink and turned, her dark eyes finding his immediately. The weariness in her face shifted into something warmer, something that made his chest ache with an entirely different kind of pressure.
Fly crossed to her in three strides, his boots silent on the tile.
He stopped close enough to catch the scent of jasmine in her hair, close enough to see the fine tremor in her hands that she was trying to hide.
"Will you meet me in my room?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended, stripped bare by the day's revelations.
She reached up, her palms cradling his jaw with a tenderness that made his breath hitch.
Her thumbs traced the hollows beneath his cheekbones, her touch electric, eager.
A smile curved her lips, knowing, wanting, worried all at once.
"You sure?" she asked, her gaze roaming his face as if cataloging every line of exhaustion. "You look so tired."
Fly covered her hands with his own, pressing her palms harder against his skin, grounding himself in her warmth. "I only need six hours of sleep, sweetheart." He forced his voice steady, though his body screamed for rest, for oblivion. "I have a couple of things to gather, then I'll be up."
She studied him for a long moment, searching for the lie, finding none. Then she nodded, the motion small but resolute, her fingers trailing down his neck before she let her hands fall away. "I'll be waiting."
The library was tomb-silent, the shelves looming like sentinels in the darkness.
Fly moved through the shadows without turning on the lights, his path memorized, his purpose singular.
He stood over the table of all his research.
He really didn’t need to review a thing.
It was all whirling in his head like a mass of leaves caught in the wind.
What am I missing?
The font had reacted to her the moment Severance had attacked.
It recognized her as the keyholder…but…wait.
The power she had been given…. had been driven into Flash, and Lechuza had said she hadn’t meant to do it.
What if she couldn’t stop herself because there was something between them Fly couldn’t see?
That something was driving him nuts. If she were Y, then what part of the equation was Flash?
“What are you doing, boy genius?” He turned toward the door, and for one minute all he saw was the ghostly Jaws. His kite ached for the thermals. “You’re doing the same thing I told you not to do in the gym.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”
“Sharks can never stop swimming.” He stepped closer, surveyed the clutter of paperwork on the table. “You’re not going to find your answers here.” He tapped Fly’s temple. “They’re here and you know it. Just tangled up with too much information you need to unravel. You need clarity.”
“I did have another plan.”
“I passed that plan in the hallway.”
Fly grinned. “It’s much more fun than pounding a bag.”
Shark chuckled. “And way softer.”
He turned, Shark’s words following him. “Let go. Take to the sky, and let yourself soar.”
Up in his room, Fly closed the door, the latch clicking with finality.
The scent hit him immediately, eucalyptus, sharp and clean, cutting through the must of old stone and older magic.
It filled his lungs with unexpected clarity, clearing the fog from his mind even as his body cried out for rest. He followed it like a thread, his boots falling away somewhere in the darkness of the bedroom, his shirt following, until he stood in the doorway of the bathroom.
Steam rose in lazy spirals from the big tub, the water within glimmering like obsidian under candlelight. Alessia knelt beside it, her hair unbound and cascading over one shoulder, her sleeves rolled to her elbows.
She rose when she saw him, her movements liquid and unhurried, and crossed the tile to where he stood.
She simply reached for his waistband, her fingers finding the button, stripping away the fabric, the weight, the armor he wore against the world, guiding him, steadying him as he stepped into the water.