Chapter 24 Sabine
SABINE
The small victory of getting Hannah on our side feels hollow when I'm sitting in this room by myself wondering if Jace is safe or if Barone's enforcers have caught up with him.
Every car that pulls into the parking lot makes my pulse spike, and I've worn a path in the cheap carpet from pacing between the window and the door.
The solitude has given me too much time to think, and my thoughts keep circling back to the same realization that's been building for weeks. When this is over, if I'm not in prison, I want to see what Jace and I might have together.
This whole journey has taught me that a hitman for the fucking Mafia is a better friend to me than who I thought would be lifelong partners and coworkers.
Men I trained with, whom I thought of as brothers, turned their backs on me when the going got tough, but a perfect stranger hired to kill me has become something more stable than the ground I walk on.
That's not something I can walk away from easily.
My phone buzzes and I grab it quickly, hoping to see a message from Jace telling me he's on his way back. Instead, the screen shows a text from Hamilton, and the preview makes my stomach drop.
Ham-dog 11:47: You need to see the news. They're reporting on you now. Military officials are working with federal authorities to locate you in connection with deaths of military personnel. This is bad, Sabine.
I unlock the phone and read the full message twice.
My hands start to shake as I process what he's saying.
They're connecting me to the deaths now, which means they must've traced the data breach back to my access credentials and are now building a narrative that paints me as responsible for the murders Bryan orchestrated.
The irony would be funny if it weren't so devastating.
I grab the television remote and turn on the news, flipping through channels until I find a station covering the story.
My face fills the screen, a photo from my military service record that shows me in uniform with my hair pulled back and a serious expression on my face.
The reporter's voice narrates over the image, describing me as a person of interest in an ongoing investigation into the suspicious deaths of several soldiers who served in the same unit.
"Staff Sergeant Sabine Hart went AWOL three weeks ago after breaching classified military databases," the reporter says, and I watch the words scroll across the bottom of the screen in bold letters.
"Military officials believe Hart may have accessed sensitive personnel information that was later used to target and kill at least one of her former colleagues, while two of them remain missing and unaccounted for.
Federal authorities are asking anyone with information about Hart's whereabouts to contact local law enforcement immediately. "
The screen cuts to a press conference where a military spokesman stands at a podium fielding questions from reporters.
He describes me as dangerous and potentially armed, urging the public not to approach me if spotted, and he emphasizes that I should be considered a threat to national security.
The characterization is so far from reality I almost laugh, but the sound that comes out is closer to a sob.
My phone buzzes again and I look down to see another message from Hamilton
Ham-dog 11:52: Are you okay? Is Bryan going to get away with this?
I force myself to type a response even though my fingers feel numb and clumsy on the screen.
Sabine 11:53: I'm okay. Bryan isn’t getting away with anything. We just have to stick together and stay strong. The evidence we have will prove what really happened.
Before I can set the phone down, another message comes through from Hannah. She must've seen the news too, and I can feel her panic through the words on the screen.
Hannah 11:54: I just saw the report. They're saying you killed people. This is insane. What do we do?
This is me. This is what I do. Always the mothering type who pulls everything together for everyone else and makes them stay calm while I"m spiraling out.
A few guys in service called me Heartthrob since I'm a woman and they found me good-looking, but most of them called me Mom.
Sometimes, I just want to fall apart and break down, and maybe that's why I like Jace so much. He's strong so I don't have to be.
Sabine 11:55: We do exactly what we planned. You and Ham stay where you are and wait for the attorney to call you in for depositions. The evidence will show that Bryan orchestrated everything and I was trying to stop him. Trust me, Hannah. We're going to be fine.
I send the message and immediately doubt every word.
We might not be fine. The military's painted me as a murderer and a traitor, and even with all the evidence we've collected, there’s no guarantee anyone will believe my version of events over the official narrative. Bryan has connections and resources that I don’t, and he has had weeks to build his case against me while I've been running for my life.
I turn off the television because I can’t stand to hear my name repeated over and over in connection with crimes I didn’t commit.
But then I'm just alone in oppressive silence.
I sink onto the edge of the bed with my head in my hands.
Everything we've been through crashes over me now that we 're finally this close to the end, and I realize how exhausted I am.
Not physically, though that's certainly true, but emotionally and mentally drained so much that I know I'll need therapy to fix it.
The sound of a key in the lock makes me jump to my feet, and I reach for the weapon I keep on the nightstand, but it's not there.
Jace enters looking weary and upset, his shoulders hunched and his expression darker than I've seen it in days.
He closes the door behind him and engages all the locks before turning to face me.
"You're back." Relief floods through me so suddenly, my knees feel weak. "I was starting to worry something happened."
"I'm here." He sounds down, and I can see tension radiating from every line of his body. "Did you see the news?"
"Yeah," I sigh, walking over toward him. "And I can't believe it…"
Jace nods but doesn’t seem surprised. "It wouldn't surprise me if Bryan reached out through back channels to make sure the narrative gets shaped the way he wants it. Painting you as the villain makes his job easier."
"Did you talk to your friend?" I reach for his hand but he pulls away, and the rejection stings a little. "Jace, what's wrong?"
He moves past me to the window and peeks through the gap in the curtains, scanning the parking lot like he's paranoid. When he turns back to face me, I can tell something's wrong.
"I gave Lucas everything he needs to take down Barone if something happens to me." Jace pulls off his jacket and drapes it over a chair by the door as I cross my arms over my chest.
"But that’s a good thing, right?" I don't know what he's thinking, but distancing himself from that family is the best thing he could ever do.
"If it goes sideways, they won’t stop hunting for me until I'm dead.
" Jace turns away from the window and runs a hand through his hair.
"And that puts you at risk. Anyone associated with me becomes a target, and I can’t guarantee your safety if Barone decides to come after everyone connected to my betrayal. "
I don't like what he's saying. I can see where this conversation's heading. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying maybe we shouldn't be together for a while." He won’t meet my eyes. "Until the heat's off us. You should go somewhere safe with Hannah and Hamilton, let the attorney handle the case against Bryan, and stay far away from me until this settles."
What he's suggesting is ludicrous. He can't just push me away like this. I won't allow it. "You want me to leave? After everything we've been through together?"
"I want you to stay alive, Bean." I hate that he's using a nickname for me when he's trying to push me away. "The Mob doesn’t forget betrayal. They'll hunt me for years if necessary, and anyone I care about becomes leverage they can use against me."
"So your solution is to push me away?" Anger replaces the hurt, and I feel my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "To pretend that what we have means nothing?"
"It's not like I want to do this." Jace's voice hardens. "You’ll end up dead before you can even turn in your evidence… And you don't need me anymore."
"I do need you," I say desperately. "I’m not letting you push me away, Jace."
"Look, I made a choice that put us both in danger.
" He crosses his arms over his chest, closing himself off from me.
"And now I'm trying to mitigate that danger by removing myself from your life before Barone's people track me down and use you as leverage. This isn’t about pushing you away unfairly.
This is about being realistic about the threats we face. "
"No," I spit, shaking my head. "No, you don’t get to decide this on your own. We're in this together, and I'm not leaving your side because you think it's safer for me. I knew the risks when I chose to trust you, and those risks haven't changed just because the finish line is closer."
"You aren't listening to me." Frustration makes his voice sharp.
"If Barone's people find me, they'll torture me for information about where I hid the evidence. And when torture doesn’t work, they'll threaten to hurt the people I care about. That means they'll come after you to make me talk, and I can’t protect you if I’m already dead. "
The sound of footsteps approaching our door makes the decision for us. Jace grabs my arm and pulls me toward the bathroom. On the way, we snag the cash and our bags while car doors outside slam and I hear gruff voices snapping off orders.
"We gotta get out of here," he grumbles as he dons his coat.
"Where?" I hiss, realizing all those phones are locked in his truck.
"Out the window…" He glances back as someone pounds on the door. "I'll follow."
I climb onto the toilet and push the window open, grateful that it's large enough for a person to fit through.
The cold air rushes in, and I pull myself up and through the opening, landing in the dirt behind the motel with less grace than I'd prefer.
Jace appears a moment later, dropping down beside me just as we hear the sound of the motel room door being kicked in.
"Run." He grabs my hand, and we sprint across the field behind the motel, heading for the tree line that offers cover. Behind us I hear shouting and the sound of men giving chase, but we don’t slow down or look back.
We have seconds at most before they spot us, and our only chance at survival is reaching Jace's truck before they can cut us off.
The field seems endless, frozen grass crunching under our boots as we run. My lungs burn from the cold air and the exertion, but fear pushes me faster than I thought possible. Jace pulls me along when I start to lag, his grip on my hand the only thing keeping me moving forward.
We reach the trees and crash through undergrowth that tears at our clothes and skin. The darkness under the canopy is disorienting, but Jace navigates like a pro.
When we emerge on a residential street two blocks from the motel, I can see his truck parked exactly where he said it would be. It feels like relief, but this isn't over yet. He's right. They're going to keep chasing us.
"Get in." He unlocks the doors and we throw ourselves inside, and the engine roars to life before I have my seatbelt fastened. Jace pulls away from the curb with tires squealing, and I look back to see figures emerging from the trees behind us.
"They're following us." My voice sounds distant to my own ears, adrenaline making everything feel surreal and disconnected. "They know what kind of car you're driving."
"I know." Jace's hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel as he accelerates through residential streets. "But we have a head start, and I know these neighborhoods better than they do. We lose them in the next few minutes or we don’t lose them at all."
He takes a corner so fast that I'm thrown against the door despite the seatbelt, and then we're racing down a narrow alley between industrial buildings. The truck scrapes against brick on both sides, but Jace doesn’t slow down.
We emerge onto a main road and he merges into traffic, weaving between cars recklessly, but we're putting distance between us and the men who’ve come hunting.
Fuck if I'm not pissed at him for suggesting I"m better off without him, because I'm not letting him get rid of me that easily.