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He grins. “It seems like you were quite the troublemaker back then.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes at his comment. “I’m glad you’re enjoying learning about my tragic childhood.”
His face softens, and he places a hand on my shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a tragedy. Though, I understand your hesitation to learn about your past, maybe—”
“Please, don’t,” I interrupt, but I’m unsure on what should follow those two words.
Dad and I often agree on things, and his advice is usually spot on. But this time, I’m determined to ignore him. He’s an archeologist, of course he wants to dig into the past. Me, I just want to look to the future.
Do I have questions about my upbringing and my ties to the Zs? Yes. I need to know why I was there. The rest doesn’t matter. I have everything I want, including a family. Whatever happened before doesn’t count, including Piper. But as much as I try to erase her from my mind, I’m finding it impossible.
How do I discard a piece of a puzzle that seems to be the most vital part of my entire being?
Forget about her. Focus on the biggest challenge of your life. Defeating the Zs.
I square my shoulders and put on a confident face, despite the knot of worry that’s formed in my stomach. “We’ll discuss this later,” I say, my voice strong and sure, despite the shakiness in my chest. “Call if you or Piper need anything.”
He sighs and shakes his head. I can tell he’s disappointed in my decision. “You can’t escape your past—it always catches up to you,” he warns.
“Well, I’ll keep that in mind for next year when things are less hectic,” I answer, trying to lighten the mood.
“Be careful.” His face is full of worry and sympathy.
I carefully fill the to-go mug with hot, freshly brewed coffee. The steam from it fills the room with a comforting aroma. I walk toward Dad and gently place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.
“Always. I’m always careful,” I say through a tight throat, somehow managing to force a smile. “Take care of yourself and Piper,” I say softly before leaving the house.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Finnegan
I settle into my chair,my shoes scuffing against the floor as I push back from my desk. The mission ahead is daunting, and I don’t know if we’re prepared for it. Memories of the countless innocent families destroyed by the cartel’s reign of terror swell inside me, bolstering my determination to protect those still in danger.
I exhale deeply, steadying my resolve for what’s to come. I won’t rest until the cartel is eliminated. My hands clench into fists, galvanized by a thirst for vengeance and an unstoppable drive to seek retribution for the lives that have been so cruelly taken away.
I’m hunched over the blueprints of the house the Zs own in New Mexico when the door to the office flies open. Derek strides in, pushing a man by the arm. I assume he’s Seth Bradley. His head is shrouded in black fabric. As Derek pulls off the hood and tosses it aside, he says with a smirk, “Honey, we’re home, and I brought you a little present.”
I peer over at Seth, wondering if he’s okay. His face is ashen, and his eyes are glazed over. I can make out a large lump on his forehead that’s already starting to swell and bruise. “How is he doing?”
Derek crosses his arms and shifts his weight. “As I mentioned earlier over the phone, he has a concussion and several bruises. We’ve already asked the nurse to come by every few hours to check on him and monitor him for any sudden changes in his condition.” He pauses and casts a glance at Seth. “We’ll make sure he’s all right.”
“Welcome, Bradley,” I say with a forced smile.
Bradley’s eyes widen in shock, and he gapes at me, mouth hanging open. He shakes his head slightly before speaking. “Archer?”
Should’ve expected he would throw that name out too, however, I feign surprise. “Who?” I ask gruffly.
“Archer,” he says again, insistently.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare. “Sorry, there’s no one here by that name,” I say coldly.
He narrows his eyes and spits out, “You’re Archer.”
I glance at Derek, who has one eyebrow raised and his lips pressed together in a thin line, either annoyed with Seth or me.
It’s probably both. Later, when we’re alone, I’ll ask him what he knows about this Archer character. I clear my throat and shake my head. “No, I’m Finnegan Gil.”
Seth straightens his posture and runs his hand through his hair before demanding, “Why am I here?”
