Epilogue
CALEB
Three Weeks Later
Rain falls over the Alaska harbor.
Not the violent rain that followed Evie out of Langley.
This rain is soft.
Steady.
It turns the water silver beneath the dock lights and taps gently against the windows of Cutter’s converted warehouse.
The new Shadow Division base is alive around us.
Cobra and Falcon argue over whether a breaching charge can be considered subtle.
Shark insists the answer is no.
Fathom hasn’t looked away from his monitors in six hours.
Mac sits beside him, translating First Circle authorization codes and building a list of every facility he helped create.
Rook and Sarah stand near Cutter’s office, speaking quietly.
For once, no one is shooting.
No mountains are collapsing.
No one is lifting them either.
Evie steps onto the dock carrying two mugs of coffee.
She hands one to me.
I take a drink.
It’s good.
“You look disappointed,” she says.
“Frank’s was worse.”
“You miss chemical weapons?”
“No.”
She leans against the railing.
Wind catches her dark hair.
The bruises have faded from her throat. The cut on her forehead is now a thin pink line.
The sight of it still makes something cold move through me.
She catches me looking.
“I’m all right.”
“I know.”
“You said it without arguing.”
“Progress.”
Her smile warms me more than the coffee.
She reaches beneath her sweater and touches the silver Shadow Division coin hanging from a chain around her neck.
Senator Vance’s classified investigation has cleared our team of the West Virginia attack, but the public story remains complicated. Graves is missing. Grayson is overseas. Whitmore is a ghost with access to more money and influence than most governments.
Black Banner is wounded.
Not destroyed.
Archive Seven never activated.
Two days before the deadline, Fathom severed its remote communications. By the time a trusted team reached Charleston, the location had been emptied.
Whitmore knew we were coming.
He left one thing behind.
A message.
I know what your fathers found.
Fathom has been trying to trace it ever since.
Evie rests her head against my shoulder.
“You’re thinking too loudly.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“It is for you.”
I set down my coffee and turn toward her.
“Stay with me tonight.”
“I’ve stayed every night.”
“Stay tomorrow.”
Her expression softens.
“I was planning to.”
“And after that?”
She pretends to consider it.
“I’ll need coffee.”
“I can arrange coffee.”
“No exploding safehouses.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“No secret tunnels before breakfast.”
“That may be harder.”
She laughs.
The sound carries across the dark water.
I pull her into my arms.
For years, I believed distance kept people safe.
Evie taught me the truth.
Distance only means you have farther to go when someone you love needs you.
“I love you,” I say.
She becomes still.
The words frighten me more than any shot I’ve ever taken.
Then her hands slide around my neck.
“I love you too.”
She kisses me beneath the harbor lights.
No bullets.
No alarms.
Only rain, cold air, and the woman I crossed Washington to find.
Inside the warehouse, Fathom suddenly calls for Rook.
The moment ends.
Evie sighs against my mouth.
“Trouble?”
“Probably.”
We return inside.
A map of Charleston fills Fathom’s center monitor. Photographs of crowded tourist locations appear beside intercepted Black Banner messages.
“They aren’t planning one attack,” he says. “They’re planning a sequence designed to make the city believe nowhere is safe.”
Rook studies the screen.
“What do you need?”
“Someone who understands the person behind it.”
Another photograph appears.
FBI behavioral profiler Kate Collins.
Dark hair.
Intelligent eyes.
A sealed personnel file marked with an internal warning.
DO NOT CONTACT.
Fathom looks at her photograph.
“Too late.”
Evie slips her hand into mine.
Black Banner survived the mountain.
But so did we.
And Shadow Division is coming.
THE END
KEEP READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT BOOK THREE
DARK HORIZON
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Shadow Division — Book Three