“Any nightmares?” he asked, voice low.
“No. Not last night.”
His thumb traced circles against my hip, a silent acknowledgment of progress. We stood together, looking out at the expanse of beach. The ocean glittered blue-green under the climbing sun, waves lapping gently at the shore. No footprints marred the sand. No signs of pursuit.
“Perimeter’s clear,” Ronan said, reading my thoughts. “Satellite phone is untraceable. We’re good for now. We can relax. Think through our next move.”
His gaze swept the horizon—automatic, constant. One hand remained near the weapon holstered at his hip, even as the other rested on my waist. Even if weweresafe, it never hurt to be extra careful. Both Ronan and Xavier would agree on that.
I nodded toward the laptop. “What have you found?”
Ronan’s expression shifted, the momentary softness receding behind the mask of the operative. If I hadn’t been watching for it, I might have missed the minute tightening around his eyes.
“I’ve been tracking reports about Specter.”
The way he said the name—clipped, controlled—told me everything I needed to know before he spoke another word. I sank into the chair opposite him, fingers clutching the mug tighter. Whatever came next, I needed to be ready.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
Ronan’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. “The compound’s security feeds went dark after we left,” he said. “But I received an encrypted data package at 0400 hours. One of Specter’s failsafes.”
He turned the laptop so I could see the screen. Grainy security footage showed Specter—our unexpected ally, the man who saved us both—surrounded by armed men in black tactical gear. The timestamp matched our escape. In the final frame, smoke obscured most of the image, but Specter’s silhouette remained visible, hands raised as figures closed in.
“Is he...?” I couldn’t finish the question. My throat closed around the words.
“He’s still alive.” Ronan scrolled through lines of code and what appeared to be official communications, his expression unchanged but for a tightness around his mouth that I’d learned meant he was disturbed. “But he’s not with Oblivion. A security agency has him.”
The wind picked up suddenly, carrying the scent of salt and something rotting further down the beach. Paradise with edges.
“He knew this might happen,” Ronan continued, something like respect coloring his tone. “The data package contained everything—operational files on Oblivion, facility locations, personnel records, and financial trails. Everything you need to expose them.”
I slid off his lap into the chair opposite him, coffee forgotten. “He sacrificed himself for the information?”
“For us to escape so you could finish what you started,” Ronan corrected quietly.
My chest tightened as responsibility settled over me. Specter, with his sardonic commentary and encyclopedic knowledge, was now in custody because of us. Because of me.
My fingers curled into fists as I scanned the screen. Alongside the data were news headlines—sanitized versions of what really happened: “Gas Explosion in São Paulo Empty Home,” “Construction Accident Investigated,” “No Comment from Authorities.”
“Total media blackout,” I murmured. “They’re controlling the narrative.”
“They always do.”
The image of Specter surrounded by tactical teams burned behind my eyelids. I remembered him in that basement, bandaging Ronan’s wounds. The way he called me “journalist” with that hint of respect. How he seemed to know our next move before we did.
Everything that we had found—everything we had done—happened because of him. No words could ever express how grateful I was.
“They’ll extract everything from him,” I whispered, nausea rising. “Every safehouse, every contact. And Xavier.” The thought hit like a physical blow. “If they have Specter, what happens to Xavier?”
My hands began to shake, coffee sloshing over the rim of the mug onto my fingers. I didn’t feel the burn. “We need to find him before they move him or...”
“Maeve.” Ronan’s voice cut through my spiral, firm as a grip around my wrist. “That agency probably doesn’t know about Xavier’s connection to Oblivion yet. Specter compartmentalized information—standard operating procedure. And he won’t break easily, even if they try.”
“But we can’t just leave him there!Specter helped us, and now he’s...”
“Following the plan,” Ronan interrupted, his expression hardening. “His plan. He made a tactical choice. Our job is to ensure it wasn’t wasted.”
“To expose Oblivion,” I whispered.
