Chapter 12 #2
“This is the crown jewel of our tour, everyone!” Bonnie’s voice carried across the crowd. “We have full backstage access today—the Concert Hall, the Drama Theater, the rehearsal spaces. You’ll see areas most tourists never get to see!”
Dakota stood beside Jayden, quiet today as they’d flown to Sydney early this morning. They hadn’t talked about last night. About the kiss. About his words, or what the last five days meant or didn’t mean.
She wasn’t sure she could talk about it without falling apart, frankly.
He too seemed buttoned up today, maybe realizing this was the last day.
He took her hand as they approached the Opera House, however, his own solid and warm, a quiet weight that held her in place.
The steps rose broad and pale beneath the shell-like sails, which curved overhead in layered white tiles, catching the afternoon sun.
Behind them, Sydney Harbour spread wide and restless—ferries cutting paths through the water, the wind carrying salt and engine oil and the distant cries of gulls.
Up close, the Opera House felt immense and precise all at once, every curve deliberate, every angle refusing to be ordinary.
They crossed around the building and entered through the main doors, the sound of the harbor falling away behind them.
Inside, the building shifted in tone. Warm timber lined the walls and ceilings, ribs of laminated wood arching overhead, softening the scale without diminishing it.
Light moved differently here—filtered, golden.
Bonnie led them through the public spaces, pointing out the interlocking shells, the way the structure revealed itself only once you were inside it.
She spoke about performances, renovations, the building’s long fight to reconcile vision with reality.
“This is amazing,” Jayden said.
Beside her, Dakota nodded, his mouth a line, unreadable.
Huh.
The Concert Hall stopped Jayden short.
It rose around them in sweeping tiers, vast and reverent, the scale drawing her gaze upward whether she meant it to or not.
Behind the stage, the grand organ dominated the space—rank upon rank of pipes climbing the wall, like a cathedral installation, wood and metal arranged with near-religious precision.
Over ten thousand pipes, Bonnie said, the largest mechanical tracker-action organ in the world.
“The acoustics are extraordinary,” Bonnie said. “Every seat in the house can hear a whisper from the stage.”
Jayden tipped her head back, taking in the ceiling, the balconies, the shadows tucked into architectural folds. Too many angles. Too many vantage points. Places someone could disappear into. Places an assassin could wait.
Stop it.
But the thoughts pressed in anyway. The gray bag was still unaccounted for. The person behind it still unknown. Tomorrow, the president would speak somewhere within these walls, and Jayden was no closer to stopping what was coming than she’d been a week ago.
They moved on through the Drama Theater—smaller, more intimate, every seat close enough to feel part of the show.
Sight lines perfect. No wasted space. Then backstage, where the set dressing gave way to raw structure.
Narrow corridors. Racks of costumes sealed in plastic.
Mirrors rimmed with lights, makeup smudges left behind like fingerprints.
A maze of passageways designed to keep the magic hidden, to move people unseen.
Jayden absorbed it all, because some instincts didn’t switch off just because the setting was beautiful.
Somewhere along the way, Dakota had let go of her hand. She turned to find him . . .
He was gone from the tour group.
Oh no . . . no . . .
“Jayden?”
She turned.
Vic stood there, wearing concern. “Are you okay?”
“I just . . . I think I lost my . . . um, Dakota.”
“Oh, I saw him leave—back when we first got to the Drama Theater. Met someone.”
Oh?
“This is just amazing, isn’t it? We’re going to the lobby next, under the shells.”
“I’ll be right behind you.” She turned and headed out of the Drama Theater, back to the Concert Hall—
What if he was scouting out a place to hide, maybe lie in wait . . .
She spotted him in a corridor below, talking to a man she’d never seen before.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Military bearing that practically screamed special operations. He stood with his back to the wall, eyes tracking the corridor even while he talked—the stance of someone who’d spent years expecting threats from every direction.
Jayden pressed herself into an alcove above him, heart hammering.
“—perfect location is over there.” The stranger gestured toward a balcony overlooking the Concert Hall. “Clear sight line to the stage. Minimal obstruction.”
“What if the shot came from there instead?” Dakota pointed to something Jayden couldn’t see. “The angle would be worse, but the exit route is cleaner.”
“I’ve mapped the entire venue. It’s your call, South.”
Jayden’s blood went cold.
Perfect location. Sight lines. Exit routes. Positions mapped—
And it was Dakota’s call.
“We’ll need to cover both. Secret Service is handling the inner perimeter,” Dakota said. “We’ve got the outer ring and the backstage areas. If anyone makes a move, we’ll see them coming.”
Secret Service. Perimeter. We’ll see them coming.
They weren’t planning the attack.
They were planning the defense.
And of course, deep in her bones, she’d known it. Dakota wasn’t the assassin. He was security. Private security, probably contracted for the summit.
Security consultant, just like he’d said. He just hadn’t told her for what.
But he hadn’t lied to her either. Not like . . . well, not like she had.
“You’re safe with me.”
And she, of course, had jumped to conclusion. Nice.
I’m sorry, Dakota.
Dakota’s head turned. He spotted her.
For a moment, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe, or concern. Then he smiled and signaled her down.
“There you are. Come meet someone.”
Jayden walked toward them, heart thudding. The stranger watched her approach with assessing eyes—and she deserved that, didn’t she?
“Jayden, this is my friend West. We work together.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jayden shook West’s hand. Her voice came out cool. Professional. “You’re a security consultant?”
West glanced at Dakota, back at her. “Yep.”
She nodded, not sure what to say. Trying to find her footing back as a hotel inspector.
No. Tourist.
“This is an amazing place. I think I’ll get back to the group,” Jayden said. “Nice meeting you, West.”
She walked away before Dakota could stop her.
She caught up, her mind spinning, and saw Vic glance at her, as if asking about Dakota. She nodded and smiled like, Yes, I found him.
She didn’t know what to do about that.
The tour ended in the main foyer, Bonnie thanking everyone for a wonderful week and reminding them that their suitcases would be available at the hotel.
“Feel free to explore the city! The Royal Botanic Garden is just a short walk—perfect for a romantic stroll! And don’t forget to exchange contact information with your new friends!”
The group began to disperse. Gerald was already pulling out his binoculars, eager to spot harbor birds. Mags and Lily headed for a café. The Brennans—Howard with a bandage still on his forehead—were arguing about whether to take a ferry or walk.
Vic hovered near the exit, taking photos of the Opera House exterior with his phone.
Tourist photos.
But something about it pinged inside her.
Calm down.
She just didn’t know who to suspect.
Dakota caught up with her as she headed for the doors. “Hey. Can we talk?”
“I thought we might take that walk to the Botanic Garden,” she said, not looking at him.
“Jayden—”
“Oh! Jayden!”
Bonnie was hurrying toward them, clipboard clutched to her chest, face bright with excitement.
“I think I found your suitcase! There was one that was delayed—it finally caught up with us here at Sydney airport. Come, come!”
She led them out to the tour bus, still parked in the loading zone. The luggage compartment was open, a few remaining bags visible inside.
Bonnie pulled out a bag—gray with red stitching on the handle. Jayden stilled. Her actual bag with the neurotoxin intel and, well, her sister’s bible.
“Is this it?” Dakota said.
Jayden took the bag, unzipped it. Her equipment was still there—camera gear on top, the hidden compartments undisturbed beneath. She kept her face neutral as she confirmed the contents, but she put her hand on the bible. Took a breath.
“Yes. This is it.” She zipped it closed. “Thank you, Bonnie.”
Dakota was watching her with a strange expression. Like he was seeing her for the first time. He frowned, then let out a long breath.
As if . . . what? Relieved?
She looked at him. “You okay?”
“Yep,” he said.
She turned back to the luggage. Wait—
“What about the other bag?” She spotted it in the luggage compartment, the one with the red ribbon. “Whose is that?”
Bonnie frowned. “I have no idea. If it’s not yours, then it’s . . . a lost bag. No one’s claimed it.” She turned to close the compartment. “We’ll return it to the airport lost-and-found.”
Jayden’s fingers itched to grab it. To take it back to the safe house and dismantle it, maybe send photos to Nimue and figure out who could have used it.
But Dakota was right there, watching her with those too-perceptive eyes, and she couldn’t—
“Jayden.” Dakota’s hand closed around her elbow, pulling her gently away from the bus. “Can we talk? Please?”
She let him lead her toward the harbor railing, away from Bonnie, away from the bus, away from the gray bag that was right there.
She’d round back. But first . . . she followed him.
The harbor stretched before them, ferries cutting across blue water. The Opera House gleamed to their left. Seagulls called overhead.
Postcard perfect. The kind of view that should have made her heart sing.
Instead, this felt like goodbye.
“I owe you an apology,” Dakota said. “I should have told you that my job was to help secure the Opera House. I didn’t think it mattered, but you looked . . . surprised, I guess. I don’t know. Anyway . . .” He sighed.