Page 33 of Breached

She had been shot in the shoulder and had a nasty gash on her cheek, but all in all, she seemed okay.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I felt around her major organs.

“No,” she struggled through the pain, “you?”

“I’m good,” I assured her, though with the amount of adrenaline running through me, I could’ve been shot in the stomach and had no idea. I stood and looked at the bloodbath around us and made my way over to one of the dead men. I grabbed his arm and pushed up his sleeve looking for identifying marks, and I found a box with three lines inside it. Shit, they were Cruz men, which meant the Canos Cartel were already here, still on the hunt for their grandson. My thoughts went to Chase.

The sound of an engine found my ears, and my legs got shaky as I tried to squat down. It was coming from the direction we were headed.

I noticed Eric stopped what he was doing when the headlights flashed three times, signaling something. He tossed the shotgun and started toward a vehicle.

For once, I really watched the way Eric Noah moved, the way his arms hung at his side, and the slight tilt in his head as if he listened to something in his ear.

Why wasn’t I scared? Why wasn’t I hauling Prescott to her feet and racing to put distance between us and him? Why did I feel… safe? The double hip tap.

Before I could stop myself, the word came out of my mouth. “Paul?”

He froze and his shoulders flinched. Then, as if the moment didn’t happen, he took the last two steps toward the Land Rover and opened the door. He drove away without ever looking in my direction.

No.

Screeching tires and shouts filled what little self-awareness I had left, then everything went silent. John was the first to get to me. His mouth moved, but nothing came out—his hands felt around my body, but I couldn’t feel anything. My feet started to move, and I was escorted to the back seat of a vehicle.

I blinked, and we were back at the base. Prescott was being rushed somewhere, and once again, John had me by the arm.

“Nicole. Nicole, look at me.” He bent down and looked into my eyes. “Talk to me.” I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t think. I wondered why my body moved—it was as if someone else had taken control of me. He moved me inside and we walked into a room, and I found myself alone with a stranger.

“Ms. Winter, please take a seat. My name is Dr. Peeling. Can you tell me your date of birth?”

I sat. I could hear his voice, but I simply blinked at him as everything from the last hour came slowly back to me.

“Can you tell me your date of birth?” he repeated.

It felt like something was dripping into my bloodstream—slow, deliberate, and inescapable awareness. Every word I’d been fed, every memory I’d clung to, every feeling I’d allowed in—it all began to unwrap and smothered me beneath the weight of it. The truth had always been there. I had just been too blind to see it. Or when even the tiniest doubt crept in, I had just unconsciously twisted the pieces to have them make sense. A shield to protect my heart. Paul, my Paul, was Eric Noah.

I jumped up, ripped open the door, and rushed toward the first exit I could find. Once outside, I got my bearings and spotted Keith far down the building. He was headed into the war room. I ran, with one purpose in mind, as my heart began to pound in my chest. Maybe it was a warning for me to stop, but my brain had one objective.

I heard a sound and made eye contact with Mark. He was talking to someone in the parking lot. The way his face fell when he saw me told me what I needed to know. He broke into a full-blown run, but I was closer to the war room than he was and reached the door and stepped inside before he could intercept me. Then the air was sucked from my lungs.

Eric Noah sat in a chair surrounded by the guys, unsecured, looking completely at ease. He didn’t spot me right away because he was talking to Mike, who was standing on the opposite side of the room. Cole was the first to react. His body stiffened, and his arms dropped to his sides. Eric looked at him, then followed his line of sight over to me. The moment he laid eyes on me, he jumped to his feet, and the rest of them followed.

“Nicole!” Mark came up behind me. “Shit!”

“Why?” fell from my lips as my brain tried to make sense of it all.

Eric stepped forward, and I stepped back.

Cole raised his hands and said, “Nicole, take a breath. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

My emotions fought to come out, but I held them back and locked eyes with Eric Noah. A man I had hated—and had been terrified of for years.

“It’s time,” John muttered, and my throat felt like it was closing over.

Eric reached up slowly and began to peel away the layers—his shaggy wig, beard, and straight eyebrows, then he dug into his cheeks, removing prosthetics. I stood transfixed as he removed his colored contacts, then dragged his nails down his arms to scrape away the fake scar to reveal his arm sleeve.

I heard a strange noise and realized it had escaped from my own throat as Eric Noah slowly morphed into Paul.

“Everyone out,” he demanded.