Page 157 of What Remains

“We need to kit up and roll out.” Gideon’s already on the move before anyone can agree.

Easton stands and offers me my coat. Always taking care of me. I give him a smile of gratitude, and then once I’m zipped up, I tuck Jerry under my arm, and we exit the jet.

With Hollis and Reed out there waiting for us, it’s déjà vu of that op in the fall—a similar storm, in the same country, and practically the same crew.

I say my hello to Reed, then Hollis and her and Gideon’s half brother, Tristan. I’m not sure why I didn’t think he would be here given it’s Julian’s life on the line—guess it’s because his existence is more secretive than Julian’s being alive is.

“We’re cleared to roll out without any vehicle check.” Gideon stands between his sister and Tristan while holstering a 9mm at his side. “I take it you’re covering our footprints here by nuking the footage?”

“Of course,” I say with a nod as the rest of Falcon packs our weapons into the awaiting convoy transport, which Gideon must have arranged.

Not even two minutes later, I’m wedged in the back seat between Easton and Natasha, my rig braced against my knees as the vehicle tears down a road outside Heathrow. Dad’s up front in the passenger seat, half turned, rifle across his lap as Carter drives our SUV.

“We’re not relying on standard radios underground, and our mesh units are live,” I explain. “Each operator’s comm device will become a relay node once you infil. The signals will hop from person to person instead of trying to punch through concrete.”

We thankfully already had these new devices, but we’ve yet to deploy them.

“So even underground, we keep line of sight digitally,” Easton says, his hand settling on my knee, and that simple touch manages to steady me like always.

“Exactly. Your ATAK units broadcast position and telemetry across the mesh.” I have no idea why it makes me feel better to explain the nitty-gritty details, but it does. Like saying it all out loud reminds me that we’re not going in blind. “Movement plus signal strength changes will help me map the interior in real time.”

“Which is why you need to be close by,” Dad grumbles. “Doesn’t RF shielding block all that, though?”

I zoom in on Julian’s ghost beacon pattern still whispering across my screen. Faint, but steady. “Shielding isn’t perfect. Especially not retrofitted Cold War concrete. There are always seams. Grounding lines, old cable runs, power bleeds.”

“So, we’re not punching through the wall, we’re slipping through the cracks.” Natasha piggybacks on my explanation. She always does a better job at speaking more plainly about this stuff than I do.

“I don’t need to recreate anything. Our mesh network handles internal comms.” I rotate the overlay into view. “Julian already proved there’s outward leakage. I’m going to anchor to his signal and bridge into your mesh telemetry. Outside to inside.”

“Are you saying you’ll be able to point us to exactly where Julian’s laptop is down in that bunker?” Easton asks.

I glance at him, his handsome features still visible in the darkness. “Yes,” I breathe out. “Julian didn’t just leave a trail; he left a glowing red door.”

CHAPTER 57

Easton

The storm has mostly burned itself out. Water drips from the brim of my hat as I work on saying my goodbye. Well, not goodbye goodbye. I’ve always hated that word.

I set my hand at Gwen’s waist and draw her close enough that the rest of the team fades to background noise.

“Don’t worry about me. My dad’s here.”

My thumb brushes her jaw once. Then I kiss her. Quick and certain. No hesitation. A promise to come back—not a performance, or the kind of goodbye I refuse to give.

When we pull away, she adjusts the comm unit at my wrist, fingers quick against the casing. “All fifteen of you are tied to my receiver stack. You’re my loudest signal.”

“Favoritism, huh?”

“Efficiency.” She takes hold of my vest like she needs one more second.

I give it to her. I’d give her all the seconds in the world if Julian’s life wasn’t on the line.

“Alpha, Foxtrot, form up. Ninety seconds,” Carter calls out.

“You better come back to me.” She grits out the command, an impassioned plea that I have no intention of disobeying.

I brush my mouth over hers. “You still owe me that I love you. How could I not come back so I can hear it?”