Chapter 8 The Refuge—New Mexico–West Ravine Clearing
THE REFUGE—NEW MEXICO–WEST RAVINE CLEARING
Lark had always struggled with patience.
She stuffed her hand in her pocket, stared at the morning sun, and groaned.
She was going to have to find someone to get her a stress ball.
It was the only way she’d survive the quiet of The Refuge and its surroundings.
She’d never been one for the great outdoors.
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate being in the mountains.
Or at a lake. Or anywhere else. It was that she had one speed, and that didn’t include taking a leisurely hike or a kayaking excursion.
Hell, she never craved the ever-elusive adrenaline rush many other operatives chased during downtime.
Waiting for something to happen felt like being strapped to a ticking bomb.
The sun slipped west, casting long, drowsy shadows across the New Mexico mesa.
Gold spilled through the canopy of pines and cottonwoods, dappling the clearing with shards of light and warmth.
Wind teased the edges of the ravine, whispering through the tall grass and brushing over the rocks like it had all the time in the world.
Lark didn’t.
She stood just beyond the old picnic table Kawan had told her that Brick had repurposed for moments like this—moments requiring distance from the main house, away from curious guests, away from distractions.
Tonka paced slow, steady arcs behind her.
Pipe leaned against the fence, boots crossed at the ankle, a thermos in his hand.
Thor stood near a tree stump with arms folded, half-shadowed, unreadable.
And Kawan… he hadn’t taken his eyes off her once. He was quiet, present—a tether in human form.
She appreciated that about him. Always had. But she also resented it. Especially now. It was as if he were waiting for her to crack open and crumble into a million pieces so he could put her back together again like some stupid nursery rhyme.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires snapped her attention toward the narrow access road.
The SUV stopped twenty yards out.
The door opened slowly, and her pulse ticked faster.
Major General Clayton Grady emerged alone.
He looked older than she remembered. Grayer at the temples, yes, but it was more than that.
There was a sag to his shoulders, a heaviness in the way he shut the car door.
The desert wind tugged at his jacket. His boots scuffed over dry earth like he’d been carrying more than just his weight for a long, long time.
He removed his cap and held it in his hand as he approached.
No one said a word.
Not until he stood ten feet away and stopped.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said. His voice was low, like it had been worn down by weeks of silence. “I realize this is a bit unusual, but I don’t know who I can trust.”
Tonka stopped pacing. Pipe stepped forward slightly but didn’t speak.
Lark crossed her arms. “The question is, can we trust you, because from where I’m standing, I’m not so sure.”
Grady’s lips curved into a grim smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right now, I’m the only one you should trust.”
Kawan motioned toward the bench. “Sit. We’re listening.”
Grady obeyed without argument. He sank onto the bench with the bone-deep fatigue of someone who hadn’t slept in a week—or a lifetime.
He rubbed a hand over his face, then dropped it to his lap.
When he looked up again, his eyes met Lark’s.
“Before we start… I’m sorry,” he said simply.
“I know that doesn’t make up for anything.
But I needed you to hear it anyway. What happened to your team—what happened out there—shouldn’t have gone down the way it did. ”
Lark didn’t flinch. “And yet it did, and something tells me you could’ve stopped it.”
“No. I couldn’t,” Grady said.
“But you were the one giving orders,” Thor said. “You pulled me and my men in at the last minute with no real directive. Support and evac. Not a real good mission plan if you ask me.”
“It’s all I could do.” Grady inclined his head slightly. “I’ve been trying to untangle this mess long before I sent you in. You were my last hope.”
“That’s not making much sense,” Thor said, tone low but firm. “We want answers. Not excuses.”
“Lorre’s losing his mind.” Grady exhaled. “Torin and Bretton have gone completely dark.”
Kawan’s jaw clenched. “We already knew that.”
Grady nodded. “Colonel Amber and I set the ball rolling on this op long before Lorre got involved.”
“I didn’t know that,” Thor said.
“You didn’t need to. He left before I even assembled my team.
” The memory stung. At the time, it wasn’t because she hadn’t trusted Lorre, but more because everything had originated with Dustin.
One morning, they were sitting around the conference table, wargaming the mission, and the next morning, he’d been replaced.
“Major General, do you know why Bretton was at the meeting? Or Bradford for that matter?” Kawan asked.
“No. I had no idea until Lorre sent me a freeze-frame from the surveillance footage.” Grady scrubbed a hand over his face.
Lark stole a glance at Kawan, who frowned.
Pipe narrowed his gaze. “What did Lorre have to say about that?”
Grady snorted. “Said it was unmistakable evidence that something had gone off script. Asked if I’d embedded Bretton myself.”
“And did you?” Tonka asked.
“No.” Grady’s voice sharpened. “That wouldn’t have been my call to make. Besides, I was too far removed from the situation, and Bretton was too deep undercover. Only Lark’s team could have had any communication with him, and that was limited.”
“I’ve got a dumb question,” Kawan said. “When did Lorre get the footage? I don’t remember us sending it to him. Did we?” He glanced toward Lark.
“We didn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “And he didn’t have remote access to it. I checked that with Specs. She hasn’t sent him the after-action report—we’ve been stalling, not wanting to give him access to anything until we know more. Not to mention, he doesn’t know we left San Antonio yet.”
“He knows. He just doesn’t know where you are,” Grady said.
“He’s also pissed. But I told him, since he put you on administrative duty and chose not to bring you in, I felt it was best to put you in a safe house.
” He arched a brow. “He didn’t like that.
Didn’t feel it was necessary. Only I reminded him that we’ve got missing men.
Missing AI. And that someone took out Lark’s team.
Shot at her. Shot at SEALs. I told Lorre, until we knew more, it was best to put you somewhere safe. ”
“Interesting,” Pipe said. “What about the security footage?”
“He said it was a security scrape sent anonymously through internal channels.” Grady shook his head.
“Bullshit,” Pipe said. “No one scrapes secure feed without authorization unless they’re doing something they’re not supposed to be doing… or they’ve been watching from the very beginning.”
“Exactly,” Grady said. “And since then, Lorre’s been dodging every question I ask. He keeps citing his pending retirement as an excuse to stay out of field matters—which makes no sense—except that he’s trying to wash his hands of this one.”
Lark narrowed her eyes. “He’s still cleared. Still active. And he benched me.”
“And unfortunately, he had every right to do that,” Grady said. “But the man’s got one foot out the door and still walks around like he’s the ghost of black ops past. But I can’t prove he’s pulling strings without access to his backend clearance logs.”
Thor grunted. “Don’t you have those?”
“This is where bureaucracy becomes a pain in the ass,” Grady admitted. “Lark’s unit, while technically under JSOC command, also operates a clandestine initiative called Ghost Tier. Not highly creative, but it does the trick.”
“We’ve all heard of it,” Kawan said. “Especially since we’ve all worked with Lark before.”
“Yeah, well, when ops like this one go sideways, the government is already backpedaling. Scrubbing documents. Redacting the shit out of everything. Covering their collective asses. That includes making sure a general, even a bottom feeder like me, doesn’t have marks on his record. ” Grady arched a brow.
“So, we’re on our own,” Lark said flatly.
“You always were,” Grady said. “That’s how these ops are built. How your team operates. However, I’m not letting anyone scrub you, and I fear that’s where this is headed.”
“I don’t like the way you said that, sir,” Kawan said.
“I meant Ghost Teir, not her personally, though the latter had crossed my mind, which is why I sent in you guys,” Grady admitted quietly.
“The AI prototype is missing. We’ve got two operatives who’ve gone dark.
Maybe they’ve flipped. Maybe they’re injured somewhere.
Maybe they’re protecting the AI. I have no idea.
But the government needs two things to happen.
The AI to be found, and someone needs to be held responsible.
It doesn’t have to be public. But they won’t be taking it sitting down. ”
“What about Lorre?” Kawan asked. “Because he’s not looking squeaky clean.”
“And it’s possible that Lorre’s flipped, too.” Grady leaned forward. “But there’s something that only I know that could be in our favor in terms of saving Lark’s career.”
“And what’s that?” Brick asked.
“Bradford.” Grady clasped his fingers together and leaned forward.
“Jonas Bradford?” Kawan clenched his fists. “That fucking idiot? He was a slick son-of-a-bitch back when he was with JSOC. I can’t imagine he’s any better in the private sector.”
“Back when he was with the CIA, he worked ISA (Intelligence Support Activity) and he worked under my command on a dozen JSOC missions,” Grady said. “He was known for being a little rough around the edges.”