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And she was right.
“Indefinitely,” Cross answered vaguely. His blue eyes focused on her like lasers, and she shifted beneath their intensity. “There is another option, though.”
“What?” Pharaoh asked.
“Make The Agency believe you’re dead and no longer a threat.”
“Fake our own deaths?” Bruja asked. “Doesn’t that seem extreme?”
“That seems like a last resort,” Ryland said, watching Harper’s reaction closely. “Why not just assume new identities? It’s not like we don’t have someone who can whip some of those up.” She followed his eyes back to Banshee.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear before,” Cross snapped. “You all have targets on your backs and they won’t stop until you’re dead. So if I sound like I’m being extreme, it’s because the situation is FPCON Delta. Get it?”
Harper frowned. Tempers were escalating again, and she had no idea what FPCON Delta even meant—and why it was so bad—until Ryland explained, “Force Protection Delta is the highest state of alert issued by the DoD for a known threat.”
“That’s why we’re going to take the threat out,” Saint stated. He slid a look in Harper’s direction. “It’s what we do.”
A shiver ran down Harper’s spine. “What if you can’t find them? How will you stop them?”
“We’ll find them,” Banshee said confidently. “I’ve got programs running and it’s only a matter of time before I get some intel to help us move forward.”
“It could take months. Even years,” Cross commented.
“Way to be positive,” Bruja scoffed.
“Years?” Harper exclaimed in disbelief. “So what’re you saying? I might never see my sister again?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Dad, please. Jesus.” Ryland scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Harper, we’ll have answers soon and, I promise you, we’ll take care of the situation and you’ll get to go home sooner rather than later.”
“Don’t lie to her,” Cross said.
“I’m not,” Ryland gritted out between his clamped teeth.
For a long, very uncomfortable moment, father and son stared off. Then, Cross relented and said, “Consider yourself warned.”
Worry filled Harper, but she chose to believe Ryland over his father. She didn’t trust Cross as far as she could throw him, and something about him set her on edge. If anyone was lying, her money was on him. After all, he was the one who let his family believe he died.
“We need a game plan,” Pharaoh announced. “And a place to stay. Ideally, a place that can serve as a base of operations with enough room to sleep. Any ideas?” He looked over at Cross who nodded.
“There’s an abandoned warehouse about ten minutes from here,” Cross offered. “It’s set back from the road and would be a perfect place for you to set up shop.”
“Let’s check it out.” Ryland stood up.
Harper could tell he was itching to get out of there and, to be honest, so was she. Something about the whole situation felt off, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. As she was trying to figure it out, Banshee’s laptop began beeping and he glanced down at the screen.
“Hold onto your hats, kids, because I just hit the jackpot.”
All attention turned to Banshee who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“What do you got?” Pharaoh asked.
“Your boy just uncovered a list of people who sit on The Agency throne.”
“Fuck yeah,” Ryland murmured, and they all exchanged grins.
“You’re certain it’s The Agency?” Cross asked, leaning forward.
