Chapter 24 Eliza
TWENTY-FOUR
Eliza
VIGIL
The conversation flows around me—financial networks, tracking algorithms, strategic options—but my attention keeps drifting to Cooper.
He stands beside Ghost—Mason—arms crossed, jaw set in that familiar stubborn line that means he’s pushing through something he doesn’t want to admit, but I see what the others miss.
The slight tremor in his left hand. The way he shifts his weight every few minutes, favoring his uninjured side. How his knuckles have gone white where he grips the back of the chair.
“The utility payments alone show a pattern,” Mitzy continues, pointing to data flowing across multiple screens. “If we can correlate the power consumption spikes with—”
Cooper sways slightly, catching himself against the chair. The movement is subtle, barely noticeable, but it sends alarm bells racing through my system.
“—geographic distribution of server farms,” Mitzy finishes, but her words fade into background noise.
I stand before I realize I’m moving, crossing the room to where Cooper tries to maintain his stoic operator facade. Up close, the pallor is more obvious. Sweat beads at his temples despite the cool air conditioning.
“Hey,” I say softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Let’s get you back to bed. You look like you could use some rest.”
His green eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I expect him to refuse. To insist he’s fine, that operators don’t need rest, that the mission comes first. It’s what he’d probably tell his team.
Instead, he nods. “Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea.”
The admission surprises everyone in the room, including me. Halo—Martinez—raises an eyebrow. Fuse—Jackson—looks like he wants to make a joke but thinks better of it.
The nicknames, callsigns, whatever they call them—I’m not sure where I fit in that? Do I call them by the names Cooper uses, or by their given names? I don’t know, and I’m feeling my way around like a blind person.
Ghost watches with the calculating expression of a leader reassessing his team’s capabilities.
But Cooper just wraps his good arm around my shoulders, letting me take some of his weight as we head toward the door.
“We’ll continue this later,” Ghost says, understanding passing between him and Cooper that doesn’t require words.
The hallway stretches ahead of us, all warm wood paneling and mountain lodge elegance that still feels surreal after everything we’ve been through. Cooper’s steps are measured, deliberate, but each one costs him.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I murmur as we walk. “I saw you in that tunnel, remember? I know what you’re capable of, but I also know when you’re running on empty.”
His arm tightens around my shoulders. “Forgot you were paying attention to details.”
“Occupational hazard. Linguists notice everything—tone, inflection, body language. You’re speaking fluent exhaustion right now.”
A sound that might be laughter rumbles through his chest. “Smart woman.”
“Smart enough to know you need sleep more than you need to prove how tough you are.”
The bedroom door opens to reveal the same honey-colored wood ceiling and mountain views that greeted Cooper when he first woke up. The bed looks massive after our cramped hiding spots in D.C.—all white linens and down pillows that belong in a luxury resort rather than a safe house.
I help him sit on the edge of the mattress, then kneel to untie his boots. It’s an intimate gesture, taking care of someone this way, and my cheeks warm as I focus on the laces.
“You don’t have to—”
“Hush.” The word comes out sharper than intended, carrying echoes of the authority he used on me during our escape. “Let me take care of you for once.”
His boots hit the floor with soft thuds. We’ve been intimate, yes, but that was different—heat and desperation and the kind of raw need that burns away self-consciousness. This feels more vulnerable somehow.
I take in the full extent of his injuries. White gauze and medical tape cover the shoulder wound, more bandaging around his ribs where the second bullet grazed him. Purple bruises bloom across his skin like dark flowers.
My fingers trace the edge of one bandage, careful not to disturb the medical tape. “Does it hurt?”
“Less than it did yesterday.”
I help him settle against the pillows, adjusting them until he can recline comfortably without putting pressure on his wounds. When I reach for the blanket, his hand catches mine.
“Stay,” he says simply.
So I do. I settle into the chair beside his bed, our fingers intertwined, and for the first time since this nightmare began, silence feels comfortable instead of threatening.
“I’m glad I got you out alive,” Cooper says, his voice rougher than usual.
The words hit deeper than expected. Not I’m glad we made it out, or I’m glad we survived—he’s glad he saved me. That my life was the priority, the mission objective that mattered most.
“What happens next?” The question comes out smaller than I intend, vulnerability bleeding through despite my efforts to sound composed.
He’s quiet for a long moment, thumb stroking across my knuckles in a rhythm that’s both soothing and hypnotic. “We need to figure that out. It’s not really clear right now. But one thing’s for sure—Phoenix is out there, and it’s still trying to kill you. We need to find a way to make you safe.”
The words settle over me like a cold blanket. Safe. What does that even mean anymore?
“Am I going to have to disappear like Celeste and Ryan?”
“I’m not sure.” His eyes are starting to drift closed, exhaustion finally winning the battle against stubborn determination. “We’ll figure something out. Ghost and the team … They’re good at this stuff.”
His breathing deepens, becomes more regular. The lines of pain around his eyes smooth out as sleep claims him, and I’m left holding the hand of an unconscious warrior who threw himself between me and death without hesitation.
“How did we get here?” I whisper to the empty room. “From you ordering me to Move now in my office to—this?”
But I know the answer. It’s somewhere between the basement tunnel and the safe house, between his commands and my submission, between the moment I stopped fighting his authority and started trusting it. When protection became partnership and partnership became something deeper.
The room settles into quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment and Cooper’s steady breathing.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the mountain peaks catch the last light of sunset, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that would be beautiful if I could focus on anything other than the man sleeping beside me.
“You know what’s crazy?” I continue my whispered monologue, needing to process out loud even though he can’t hear me. “Three days ago, I was furious when you showed up. Demanding answers, refusing to cooperate, thinking you were just another man trying to boss me around.”
His face is peaceful in sleep, the hard edges of command softened into something vulnerable.
“I had no idea you were going to turn my entire world upside down. Make me want things I only ever fantasized about. Make me feel safe in the middle of the most dangerous situation of my life.”
A soft knock interrupts my rambling. The door opens to reveal Ghost, moving with the careful quiet of someone who doesn’t want to wake a sleeping operative.
“How’s he doing?” Ghost asks, settling into another chair with the easy grace of a man comfortable in any environment.
“Sleeping. Finally.” I don’t let go of Cooper’s hand, and Ghost notices but doesn’t comment. “The doctor said he’d be okay, but I don’t know what that means. How long until he’s back on his feet? How long before Phoenix finds us here?”
“Doc Summers knows her business. If she says he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine.” Ghost’s voice carries the quiet confidence of someone who’s seen operators recover from worse injuries. “As for Phoenix, this location is off the grid. It would have to be very lucky to find us here.”
“And if it does get lucky?”
“Then we handle it.” The simple statement carries absolute conviction. “That’s what we do, Dr. Wren. We handle things so civilians can live their lives without worrying about the monsters in the dark.”
I study his profile—sharp cheekbones, eyes that miss nothing, the kind of stillness that speaks of violence held in careful check. “How do you do it? How do you live knowing those monsters exist?”
“By making sure there are fewer of them tomorrow than there are today.” He gestures toward Cooper’s sleeping form. “Men like him? They stand between regular people and the kind of evil that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life. That’s not a burden—it’s a calling.”
“Even when it nearly kills them?”
“Especially then.” Ghost’s expression softens slightly. “You did good work back there, Dr. Wren. None of us would know about Phoenix’s financial network.”
Heat floods my cheeks at the unexpected praise. “If it wasn’t for Cooper, if it wasn’t for you and Cerberus, I wouldn’t be here to worry about him. I’d be dead in that Georgetown office, just another academic who got too curious about the wrong subject.”
“But you’re not.” Ghost stands, moving toward the door with the fluid motion of a predator. “You’re here, you’re alive, and you cracked Phoenix’s financial trail wide open. That’s going to make all the difference.”
He pauses at the threshold. “We’ve got chow ready in the main dining room if you’re hungry. Real food, not MREs or convenience store junk.”
My stomach chooses that moment to remind me I haven’t eaten since … When was the last time I ate? Yesterday? The day before? Time has become fluid since Cooper showed up at my office.
But the thought of leaving Cooper alone, even for a meal, makes my chest tighten with anxiety I don’t want to examine too closely.
“I think I’ll stay here,” I say, settling deeper into the chair. “Make sure he’s okay.”
Ghost nods like he expected that answer. “I’ll have someone bring you a plate.”