“We’re still no closer to confirming who actually released it,” Diane replied. “Could’ve been Johnson. Could’ve been Volkov. Could’ve been someone inside the Imperium we don’t even know about yet.”
“Hell of a lot of could’ves,” Jamie muttered.
Diane didn’t argue.
Zander leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What’s the situation in Europe?”
“Fragile,” Diane said. “Entire sectors are still crippled. Some cities are dark. There’s growing resentment toward the US for the delayed response. Far-right coalitions are gaining momentum. Italy’s stretched thin. France is days from a no-confidence vote. Eastern borders are heating up. We’re watching a global realignment unfold in real time—and the bastards who lit the match are still out there.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. The kind that made it hard to breathe. Two steps forward. Three brutal ones back. Despite everything—their losses, their sacrifices, the blood they’d spilled—they were no closer to stopping Johnson and getting Tak back than they’d been six days ago.
Humanity kept unraveling.
And so did Becca.
But fuck that shit. He refused to give in. Refused to let her give in.
Dominion hadn’t just shaken the world; it had broken her. Left her hollow and haunted, retreating so far inside herself, he couldn’t reach her. Didn’t matter. He’d crawl right into her darkness if that’s what it took. Bleed with her until she remembered who she was. Until she came back to him. Because if he lost her now—if she vanished into that void and didn’t come back?—
He wouldn’t survive it.
Not this time.
Jay swallowed the lump in his throat, steadying himself on the things that mattered. The things they had left. Family. Purpose. Love.
And because he refused to believe any other scenario—her.
Becca. His reason for breathing, for fighting, for living.
Her.
Always and forever.
“We’ll find them,” he said, needing it to be true. Needing it to matter. “Every member of the Imperium. No matter how far off-grid they think they are—we’ll find them.”
A low rumble of voices in the hall gave Becca all the advance warning she needed to roll over and put her back to the door. It’d been six days since they’d arrived home, and she still couldn’t get her ass out of the bed she shared with Jay.
Time slipped sideways here. Light came and went. She dozed. Or stared into space. Once in a while, people dropped by. Some brought food she couldn’t eat. Others offered care, condolences, or expressed concern at her lack of desire to do anything but exist.
They didn’t understand.
With the threat of Dominion neutralized, she didn’t know what to do with herself.
The rest she didn’t want to think about.
Maya…a neural implant? What the fuck?
And Nik…
No!
Stomach twisting, she shut down those lines of thinking. She couldn’t face it. Any of it. And she certainly didn’t want to feel it. The losses. The guilt. The remorse. She couldn’t open those doors. Not even a crack. Too dangerous. Too overwhelming.
She pulled the duvet up to her chin. Bent her head and buried her nose in the blankets. They offered safety. Comfort. A quiet place to land. Although going by the odor, they could use a wash. Shit. She could smell herself. Not good. She should probably shower too. Put on a fresh pair of Jay’s boxers. Tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be better. Maybe.
She lifted her chin. Inhaled some fresher air. Stared out the window. Well, no. Not really. She stared at the window. Watched the rivulets of rain run down the pane. Gray. Cold. Endless. The voices faded. The door opened. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
