Chapter 2 Adam
Adam
The jet hadn’t even finished leveling out when my secure line lit up.
I was halfway down the aisle, boots planted wide to absorb turbulence, one hand braced against the bulkhead. Asia blurred into a smear of bad light and worse instincts behind my eyes.
I knew before I answered.
Adam Stoker didn’t get calls at this hour unless someone was bleeding—or someone I loved was in danger.
I thumbed the line open.
“Stoker.”
Silence.
Then Logan’s voice came through—tight, controlled, and threaded with something sharp enough to cut skin.
“Where are you?”
“In the air,” I said immediately. “Outbound. What happened?”
A breath. Not relief. Calculation.
“Are you with Raine?”
The world narrowed.
“Yes,” I said. “She’s asleep beside me. Why?”
The silence stretched—long enough that my hand curled into a fist.
“Logan.”
“She’s alive,” he said finally. “You’re sure.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I don’t leave my wife unguarded. Ever. She hasn’t left my side since Missouri.”
Something broke on the other end of the line.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
The way bone gives before it snaps.
“They hit a convoy in West Texas,” Logan said. “Black-bag transport. Precision ambush. They took someone.”
Cold slid down my spine.
“They said it was Raine.”
I closed my eyes.
“Logan,” I said carefully, already running timelines, access points, false flags. “It wasn’t her.”
“I know that now,” he said. “But they wanted us to think it was.”
Raine stirred beside me, shifting closer, instinctively finding my arm even in sleep. I tightened my grip around her waist, grounding myself in the warmth, the reality of her breath.
“Did Sentinel mark the site?” I asked.
“Yes.”
That settled it.
“Then this was never about the convoy,” I said. “It was about us.”
“About you,” Logan corrected. “And her.”
I glanced down at my wife. At the faint scar near her collarbone. At the woman who’d survived hell and come back sharper for it.
“They took the wrong person,” Logan continued. “Or the right one—for whatever he’s planning next.”
“Send me everything,” I said. “Footage. Route data. Who cleared the transport.”
“I already did.”
Of course he had.
“And Adam,” Logan added, voice dropping. “He sent me a message.”
My jaw locked. “What did it say?”
“She’s not who you think she is.”
I exhaled slowly.
“That’s Sentinel,” I said. “He wants doubt. He wants hesitation.”
“But?” Logan pressed.
“But he also wants me angry.”
Raine shifted again, eyes fluttering open. She took one look at my face and went still.
“Adam?” she murmured. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer her yet.
“Logan,” I said quietly. “He didn’t take Raine because he knows I’d burn the world down to get her back.”
“So what did he do?”
“He showed us he could,” I said. “And next time, he won’t miss.”
The line went quiet.
“I’m rerouting,” I continued. “Get Boone. Get Russ. Lock down every known Sentinel echo. And Logan—”
“Yes.”
“You stay alive. He’s hunting you now.”
“I’ve always been on his list.”
“Then move like it,” I said.
I ended the call and turned to Raine.
She was fully awake now. Calm. Focused. Deadly.
“They think they took me,” she said.
“Yes.”
“But they didn’t.”
“No.”
Her hand slid into mine, fingers lacing tight. “Then whoever they have is a message.”
I nodded. “And Sentinel doesn’t send messages unless he’s ready to escalate.”
Raine sat up, eyes burning. “Then let’s stop him before he gets another chance.”
I pressed my forehead to hers.
“Already moving,” I said.
Outside the cabin window, the sky darkened—clouds rolling in thick and fast.
A storm was coming.
And this time, Sentinel had just stepped into my marriage.
That was his mistake.