Chapter 13 The Refuge—New Mexico #2
“Bradford used old CIA contacts to get us out of South America. We’re not far but can’t say where. Can’t even risk the same location for long.”
The camera shifted slightly, like he was adjusting it with his good hand.
“The AI is safe. We have it. Bradford knows people in some really interesting places. He’s not a bad guy.
Still an arrogant fuck, but he’s actually one of the good ones.
Anyway, Lorre’s gotta be going nuts, wondering where the fuck the AI is.
We have no idea how far up the chain the betrayal goes, but Lorre wasn’t working alone. ”
Jupiter muttered, “Knew it.”
Lark’s mouth was dry. She didn’t blink.
“Everything you’ve seen on the dark web feeds?
That was Bradford. He’s been creating fake leaks, dummy forums, false leads.
Trying to scatter Lorre’s hounds. But he’s not taking the bait.
They must believe you have the real package, which means you're not safe. Bradford believes Lorre promised—and took a down payment on the AI—from a terrorist group in South America. We got a partial confirmation of that from Torin. You need to see this feed. Bradford had set up his own, knowing things weren’t quite right.
It’s why he muscled his way into that meeting. ”
The screen paused, then cut to static—then a new feed.
Grainy, distant, but unmistakable. A video taken from an oblique angle, like a high-mounted drone or a helmet cam.
Bretton appeared first, walking across a clearing.
Then Torin.
Then chaos.
Torin lunged forward, blade flashing in the dim light. Bretton dropped to his knees, clutching his side.
A gunshot.
Alverez burst onto the screen, limping, bleeding from a wound on his thigh, firing. Torin staggered back, wounded, but not dead. He limped off, out of frame.
A single, sharp crack from a different direction.
Alverez jerked, his body twisting before dropping behind cover.
The feed ended.
Lark gripped the edge of the table.
“I remember that shot,” she whispered. “It came from the direction of the chapel after it went up in smoke.”
Kawan narrowed his gaze. “And the sniper we chased? Smaller frame. Limping.”
“Mina was an excellent shot,” Lark said.
Specs hit play on the final clip—Alverez again, back in the dingy safehouse.
“If you got the drive, use the string embedded in the footer of this file—one-time contact point—secure dark web thread. If you reach me, make damn sure it’s safe. Don’t use names. Don’t use locations. No device that’s ever touched a federal system. If I reply, I’ll give you what I know.”
His eyes darkened.
“Mina is alive. But she was never ours. From the beginning, she’d been embedded to steal the AI.
She was a plant because she knows the people.
The area, but more importantly, she has ties to the group that Lorre sold the AI to.
She betrayed this country a long time ago.
And Wes…” He hesitated. “I don’t know about Wes.
He disappeared before the shootout. I didn’t see him fall.
I didn’t see him run. All I know is, I haven’t seen him since.
I have my doubts about his loyalty. Be careful.
” His voice dropped lower. “I need to stay dead. If I resurface, they’ll finish what they started.
But I’ll help where I can. Bradford will too.
” He looked down. “Stay safe. Whoever sent in Thor and his team? We owe them our lives.”
The video went black.
Lark held her breath.
Specs finally sat back, exhaling. “That’s a lot to unpack.”
Jupiter rubbed his jaw. “We need to reach out.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lark looked at Kawan.
“We have to. We need to let them know Lorre’s on to everything and that Mina’s on our tail. I’d bet that Wes is out there somewhere, too. They need to protect themselves,” Kawan said.
“And devise a plan,” Jupiter said. “Bradford seems to have this entire backchannel and contacts that we don’t have. We might be able to use them. Then maybe… just maybe… we can flip the game board.”
Ry stood slowly. “I set up a secure terminal.”
Lark straightened. “Then let’s get to work. Because the people who want that AI… they’re not done with us yet.”
Kawan stared at the stress ball on the table.
Part of him was thrilled that Lark had abandoned the damn thing.
The other part of him wanted to pick up the habit.
Everything about this room was out of his wheelhouse.
He was a sniper. A weapons and explosives expert.
He didn’t do computers, programming, or even mission planning.
He left that up to others. His job was to come in, take orders, and when those orders didn’t fit the real-world aspect of the mission, he did what he did best—he adjusted in real-time.
The buzzing static of the computers and the tapping of fingers on keyboards made him itchy.
One of the screens still had the message from Alverez loaded, playing silently, as if that would tell them something.
Specs sat in front of a tablet, gripping it like the enemy might reach through it.
Jupiter had moved in front of the computer Specs had been using and pounded the keyboard with focused aggression.
Ry leaned back just slightly on the stool, not relaxed—never relaxed—but calculating. Always two steps ahead, even when the ground shifted.
Kawan couldn’t stop looking at Lark.
She hadn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. Her hands rested on her thighs, fingers splayed. Her boot tapped once, twice, then stilled. Her face unreadable. But he knew her too well not to see the battle behind her eyes.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Just processing. Thinking. Working the angles.”
“And all without the ball.”
She chuckled. “Don’t be shocked if it’s not gone forever, but right now, I feel like I can do this part without it.”
Her phone buzzed on the table. Not Specs’ machine. Not the laptop. Lark’s personal cell.
Lark stared at the number flashing on the screen.
Kawan caught it, too. “Lorre,” he muttered.
Lark didn’t hesitate. She tapped the speaker button and set it down. Her voice, when she answered, was calm steel. “Strattan, here.”
A beat of static crackled—then Colonel Lorre’s voice came through, clipped and cold. “Where the hell is your after-action report?”
Kawan moved closer, arms folded across his chest, eyes locked on Lark.
Specs glanced up from her screen, head tilting. Jupiter stopped moving altogether. Ry leaned forward, elbows on her knees, listening.
Lark didn’t blink.
“Where the hell is your AAR? I’m tired of waiting for it.”
“We’re still going through the mission, sir.”
“You’re stalling, that’s what you’re doing.
” His tone grated—tight, leashed frustration under a thin veneer of command.
“This was your mission. I expected your debrief the minute your boots touched American soil. I gave you some grace, but it’s been days, and I’ve got the brass so far up my ass they're coming out my throat.”
“We’re verifying surveillance logs and decrypting field data before anything is filed,” Lark said.
Lorre didn’t respond at first. Just a faint exhale of air, like he was weighing how much of his temper he wanted to show. “You are not authorized to investigate, Strattan. Your job was to execute and report. Nothing more.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You’re to return to Fort Liberty,” he continued. “Immediately. You and Specs. No one else.” A pause. “If you’re still entangled with Armstrong’s SEAL team, disentangle. This is not a team op. This is an internal matter.”
“May I ask who gave that directive?” Lark rubbed the back of her neck.
“Higher than Grady. That’s all you need to know,” Lorre said.
Bullshit. Grady outranked everyone in this room. So either Lorre was lying, or he had someone so far up the chain that even Grady couldn't touch them. Neither option was good.
The room felt like it shrank a little. Kawan took a step closer, anger burning hot in his chest.
“This needs to be clean. Contained. No distractions.” Lorre’s voice dropped a notch, that slick condescension slipping through the cracks. “I expect you wheels-up in twelve hours. I’ll have transport arranged.”
Lark stared at the phone, her voice calm—but hard. “Understood.”
Lorre didn’t say goodbye. He just ended the call.
“What the hell was that?” Specs asked, breaking the quiet.
“A power play,” Kawan said darkly. “And he wants you and Lark alone. He wants control.”
“It’s a trap,” Jupiter added. “The kind that starts with plausible deniability and ends with someone disappearing.”
Ry spoke up, calm but certain. “And if it really was higher than Grady? He’d name the chain. He wouldn’t hint. That was meant to rattle you.”
“He sounded sure I’d come,” Lark murmured. “Almost smug.”
Kawan stepped in. “You’re not going.”
“I know.”
“You sounded like you were agreeing to.”
“That’s what I wanted him to think.”
Specs gave her a long look. “Even if it was above Grady—which I doubt—there’s no way it’s clean. That’s a black-bag pick-up if I’ve ever heard one.”
Jupiter pushed away from the wall. “We tell Grady. Now.”
Lark nodded and turned to Ry. “Can you send a secure ping? Something short. Let him know Lorre’s trying to force my hand.”
“I’ll bury it in a satellite pass,” Ry said, already moving toward Specs’ laptop. “He’ll see it.”
Kawan kept his eyes on Lark. She was putting on a hell of a show, holding herself together like she wasn’t fraying at every edge. But he could see it. She’d lost too many people. Now, Lorre was trying to isolate her again. Pull her out. Get her back under his thumb.
She’d been a weapon too long.
Not anymore.
The door creaked open.
Everyone turned.
Pipe entered, shoulders broad and presence heavy. But it wasn’t just him.
A second figure followed—a man in camo fatigues, hard-lined face, clean-shaven, with storm-gray eyes and silver at his temples. He wore the bearing of command like a second skin.
Kawan straightened.