Bob is lying on the recliner. He curls his lips back enough to show teeth.
I understand his hostility. I’m not offended. What that dog will eventually learn is that we share the same objective. We’d both lay down our lives to protect Eden Callahan. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that woman. Or her tiny dog.
I make my way to the kitchen and drain two glasses of water. The pain pills sit on the counter where DJ left them. I consider them, but lock the temptation down. I need to stay sharp. I can handle the pain.
On my way back to the living room, I catch sight of the stack of papers on Donny’s desk and stop.
I don’t want to deal with any of it right now. All I want is to go back to that couch and hold Eden until morning. But I’ve never been good at choosing what I want over what needs to be done.
I get the wheelchair as deep into the room as I can, then transfer myself into Donny’s chair and examine the stacks of paperwork Benji left for me. The leather holds the impression of Donny’s weight. All those years of him sitting in this spot, carrying the burden of keeping us alive. Now that burden is mine.
We buried him this afternoon on the property, in the plot he chose near the dog he had when he was young. Griffin hadalready dug the grave. We all stood around it in silence. Their eyes were all on me.
I could feel the weight of their expectation. DJ and Benji were crying. Zoey looked lost. Griffin was fidgeting. I’d only ever seen him cry once, that day he lost Bonnie, but he looked close.
I needed to be strong for them, so I let numbness settle over me like armor. Said what needed to be said. Kept my voice steady.
I could feel Eden beside me, but couldn’t look at her. She has a way of getting past my defenses.
Only after I went inside and the others dispersed did I give in to the one thing I’d allow myself and reach for Eden’s hand. I know I should stay professional. I can’t expect the others to respect me if I’m constantly giving in to temptation, but I need my hands on Eden like I need air.
The top folder contains documentation for Alexander Wyman: the identity Donny constructed for me from a child who died as an infant. Donny was surprised when I told him I’d used my real name with Eden, that day I met her. I should’ve introduced myself as Alex, the way I did to every other member of the team when they joined, but there was a part of me, even at the beginning, that wanted her to know me. The real me.
I open the folder.
Donny transferred everything to me. The house. Bank accounts totaling thirty-three million dollars. The shell corporation that manages our operations. All of it registered to Alexander Wyman. All of it mine.
What happens when someone starts asking the right questions? When they discover Alexander Wyman isn’t real? Who owns any of this, then?
I work through page after page of legal documents until I reach a folder labeled Contingency Protocols.
The first page is a letter addressed to me, dated three months ago. Right around the time his cough started getting worse.
Nicholas,
If you are reading this, then I have died, and you have assumed leadership of our organization. First, let me say how glad I am to have had the privilege of watching you grow up. You are not the boy I found seven years ago. You are a leader, a protector, and a man who deserves every good thing this world has to offer.
I already said goodbye to Donny. We both knew the cancer was winning, and I was able to tell him what he meant to me, but he should have had more time. He should have gone peacefully.
If I hadn’t let that bastard get the drop on us, Donny would have died in his own bed instead of being beaten and tortured by an entity who was only there because he wanted me.
Love fails.I didn’t understand it until I was recovering in the hospital with nothing but my thoughts at night. No runs to distract me. Donny’s history with Morrow is the reason he died that way, but the risk of taking Donny in the first place was only worth it because it was the first step toward breaking me. The message was that even Donny’s love would fail to protect me from myself.
Do not blame yourself for an ending cancer created. If you’d like to be mad at anyone, be madat the cancer, though that has not gotten many people far.
I count to ten. Press the emotion back down until I feel nothing but the dull ache in my ribs.
I’m not naive about your situation. The technology available to law enforcement advances every year, and facial recognition software becomes more sophisticated with each passing month. We may have taken proper precautions, but it is likely that at some point in your life, your identity will be discovered. When that happens, you will need to disappear quickly.
I’ve established measures to ensure your protection and that of the team. If you feel you are at risk or if circumstances require you to leave immediately, there are untraceable accounts with sufficient funds to establish a new identity anywhere in the world. DJ knows the protocols. I’ve attached instructions on how you can transfer the assets and leadership to her, if necessary.
His handwriting grows shakier as the letter continues.
Here’s what I want most for you, Nicholas: I want you to be happy. I want you to stop carrying the weight of things that were never yourresponsibility. I want you to forgive yourself for being vulnerable when something evil chose to use your body as a weapon. You are not Billy Lundby. You never were. You are a good man who has saved more lives than you have ever taken, and the fact that you cannot see that breaks my heart. You deserve love. You deserve peace. You deserve to build something with your life instead of just surviving it.
Don’t let my death become another weight on your shoulders. Let yourself be happy, because that is the only way any of this means anything.
The paper blurs. I set the letter down because my hands have started shaking.
