“Jagger,” Gunnar huffs his admonishment.“For the love of God, can you just… not?” His tone sounds as though he is perpetually annoyed with Jagger’s shit.Probably because he is.“Read the file. Shoot the bad guys. Keep your mouth closed. It’s not that complicated.”
“All right…” Abby mutters to steer the conversation back to the job. “Mackenzi is in class all afternoon. I’m sending you her schedule. The ambassador prefers minimal disruption, but as always, the priority is speed and obtaining her compliance.”
Hawk lets out a heavy breath before echoing, “Obtaining her compliance?”
“Expect resistance,” Abby adds with a slight chuckle. “She has no awareness of the situation. This will be a shock to her.” The rest of the call is a quick overview of logistics—routes, timing, and coordination with the embassy security already in place. Abby runs through contingencies, fallback plans, and communication protocols.It’s routine. It’s what we do.“Keep comms dark until you’re all boots on the ground in Cartagena unless there’s an emergency.”
The screen goes blank, the digital conference room dissolving as I lean my head against the cool leather of the headrest. When I close my eyes, images of Gabriel immediately flit through my thoughts. Chubby hands outstretched toward me as he wobbled his first steps across the living room. A confused three-year-old clutching a stuffed dinosaur while his mother and I signed papers that neither of us knew how to explain to him. All ears and missing front teeth, grinning at me from beneath a Little League hat that barely fit his little head during what little of his childhood I wasn’t deployed for. A sullen and closed-off teenager full of anger and one-word answers when I saw him between jobs as we built Aegis from nothing. And two years ago, standing on the curb outside his dorm at Westbridge, shoulders squared as he gave me a stiff nod instead of a hug before disappearing into the crowd.
Coming to Westbridge for college instead of staying in Texas wasn’t what he had planned. He wanted familiar skiesand faces in a place far away from me and my career. But his mother convinced him otherwise. She thought that putting him within driving distance of Chicago—within reach of me—might give us the chance to repair all the damage my years in the military, and later Aegis’s founding, had carved into our relationship.
Isabella has always been an optimist. But her belief that forcing our son into my proximity alone could bridge a lifetime of missed birthdays, broken promises, and conversations cut short by classified calls was a bit far-fetched. The truth is, being closer hasn’t changed much at all. Gabriel still keeps me at arm’s length, polite but distant, answering texts hours later and treating our dinners like obligations to ensure his tuition gets paid. Sometimes, I think he came here for his mother’s peace of mind, not because any part of him believed I could still become the father he needed.
When I open my eyes, the city gives way to the sprawling suburbs, and I grab my phone from the dash. I turn it over for a second before unlocking it, my thumb hovering over my texts.This is a bad idea. A terrible one.But I have to do it. My fingers move with a life of their own, typing out a message. I delete it and rewrite it three times, trying to ensure it sounds casual.
Stopping by campus. Would love to catch up for a few minutes.
I stare at the words, and I feel like such a fraud.Stopping by.Like this was a planned detour.Catch up.As if we have a rapport to catch up on.
The phone is heavy in my hand, the screen turning black as it times out. Listening to the hum of the tires, I wait for a response I don’t think is coming. If he doesn’t reply, we’ll just do the job: Extract the girl. Get out.Either way, it’ll be fine.I nearly convince myself of the as foot traffic increases with each block we pass.
The screen lights up in my palm, and I swipe open my phone.
GABRIEL
Yeah… sure.
Short. No real enthusiasm, but no refusal, either. It’s about what I expected. Those two little words say everything he isn’t.Yeah, I’m obligated to respond to you. Sure, come and remind me of everything that’s wrong between us. I’ll tolerate you visiting because I have no choice.
We pull closer to the college, traffic thinning as the suburbs become the manicured hills that surround campus. The trees here are older, more established, with their branches forming a dense canopy over the narrowing roads. This isn’t the normal raw, gritty city we operate in. Westbridge University isn’t just an institution. It’s a self-contained ecosystem of the future elite, founded on old money and quiet privilege—a world Gabriel has managed to navigate well, considering he doesn’t have the social status most of his classmates do.
Not all of us were afforded the option to be a US ambassador…
My mind, treacherous as ever, loops back to the photo of Mackenzi Bradenburg from her file. Her smile,which appeared genuine and unguarded, now seems like a light slap against my face. It’s a reminder of a world that—even after attaining wealth—I’ve only ever observed from a distance. A world in which I am usually the hired help, tasked with protecting and preserving the detail. Nothing more than a ghost to most of our clients.
The black Tahoe eats the last blocks of our trip, the engine a low, predatory growl that feels more at home on the dusty roads of Kandahar than the pristine cobblestones of Westbridge County. As we pull through the gate, the world transforms. Landscaped lawn—impossibly green—rolls out like a carpet. Gothic stone buildings, softened by centuries of ivy, stand like ancient sentinels. It’s a fantasy, a carefully curated bubble of academia and privilege. It feels like another planet.
“Drop me at the student union,” I instruct Hawk, my voice flat. “Get eyes on the girl. Abby sent her schedule. She has Biophysical Chemistry in ten minutes. Anderson Hall, Room 304. It’s that huge building on the other side of the quad.”
Hawk nods, his eyes already scanning clusters of students drifting across the walkways, faces bright with careless optimism. He’s looking for a target—but also exits, sightlines, and threats.Second nature.“You good for the meet-up with Gabriel?”
“I’ll be fine.” The lie comes out smooth and practiced. “It’s just coffee.”
He doesn’t push. Instead, he pulls the Tahoe to the curb in front of a sprawling brick building that screams donated by a dead billionaire. “Keep your phone on. I’ll text when I have eyes on her.”
“I’ll be five, maybe ten, minutes behind you.” I climb out of the SUV, and I shut the door behind me with a solidthunk. Students move in loose clusters around me, backpacks slung over one shoulder, phones in hand, and conversations bleeding into each other.
Through the glass, I spot Gabriel. He’s sitting at a table near the window, barricaded behind a laptop and oversized headphones. He looks older than the last time I saw him. His hair is longer, falling into his eyes, and he’s got the start of a beard. Or rather, more scruff than beard. He looks like a stranger wearing my son’s face.
I reach for the door handle, then pause for half a second. This part has never gotten easier. The bell dings over the door when I walk inside, and Gabriel glances up without the faintest hint of a smile. He slowly takes off his headphones, the motion deliberate—even a little resentful—before setting them on the table.
“Dad.”
“Gabriel.” I take the seat opposite him, the small plastic chair groaning under my weight. Silence blooms between us, thick and suffocating. I flag down a passing barista and order two black coffees, hoping the transaction will help to fill the void before turning my attention back to my son. “Thanks for coming.” Thewords sound foreign and clumsy as they spew over my lips.
He shrugs. “You said you were stopping by.” His gaze flickers over my shoulder like he’s already mapping an exit.
“Right…” The barista drops two paper cups on the table, and I push one toward him. “So… how are classes?”
