I lean back against the wall, scrubbing a hand down my face, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for the dark.
"I don’t move the same," I admit. "I don’t think the same. Every decision, every step—it’s not about the mission anymore. It’s about you."
The words feel raw in my throat, but I force them out, needing the truth between us even if she’s not awake to hear it.
"You’re not just part of the risk now, Cherise. You are the risk. You're the reason I’ll start second-guessing, the reason I might hesitate when I can't afford to."
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the ache of it settle deep in my bones. I lean down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, breathing her in. Vanilla and something that always manages to punch through the noise in my head. She smells like a memory. Like before.
Before war. Before Cerberus. Before I learned to disappear into shadows so deep, I forgot what daylight looked like.
She murmurs something unintelligible in her sleep and burrows deeper into the bed. I want nothing more than to get undressed and crawl back in beside her, allowing my arm to tighten around her. Possessive. Fierce. Fuck. I’m already too far gone.
But I shove that urge down, and I know—when she wakes, I won’t tell her any of this. I’ll keep moving like nothing’s changed. Because she needs strength, not conflict. Control, not doubt. She needs the Ghost.
But in this quiet moment, in this quiet space where no one can hear me fall apart, I let the truth bleed through: I love her.
And that love? It’s the most dangerous exposure of all.
Cherise is tangled up in something that’s bigger than either of us, and I’m in too deep to ignore the obvious. I have to keep her safe—even from myself.
I step out of the bedroom and into the living area, the safe house silent except for the faint hum of the security system. My laptop sits on the table, still open from the night before. The screen casts a dim glow against the shadows.
I don’t hesitate before pulling up the encrypted line. Logan answers within seconds.
“It’s bloody early,” Logan grumbles, his voice rough with sleep.
“It’s late,” I counter, already scanning the new data he’s uploaded. “What have you got?”
“Enough to make me rather glad it’s not my arse on the line,” Logan mutters. “We’ve tracked one of René’s secondary supply depots—a warehouse out in La Seyne-sur-Mer. Security’s tight, but nothing we haven’t danced through before.”
“Who’s running it?” I ask, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I pull up satellite images of the area.
“Charles Fortier,” Logan replies. “Vallois’ logistics manager.”
The name sends a ripple of recognition. Cherise mentioned him before, and he was in the surveillance reports Cerberus has compiled over the last few weeks. Fortier is more than just a logistics manager. He’s the one making sure René’s shipments get where they need to go without raising red flags, which means he’s valuable.
“We’ll need him alive,” I say.
Logan chuckles. “That’s the plan, isn’t it? In and out—quiet, quick, surgical. No fireworks unless absolutely necessary.”
I nod, already thinking ahead. “Get your team prepped. I want eyes on every exit and full control of their comms before we make a move.”
“Consider it done.”
Logan hesitates for a moment before adding, “There’s something else.”
I glance at the screen. “What?”
“Interpol,” he says, his voice turning grim. “We’ve been tracking internal activity, looking for any unusual access points in their database. Someone’s been pulling files—covering Hector’s tracks, rerouting intelligence reports and whoever it is, they have high-level clearance.”
I go still. Shit. Interpol’s got a mole.
It shouldn’t surprise me. Corruption isn’t new, especially in a system as large as Interpol. But if someone on the inside is protecting Hector and René, it means we’re working against an enemy we can’t see yet, and that makes this entire operation twice as dangerous.
“Do you have a name?” I ask.
“Not yet,” Logan admits. “But I’m close. Whoever it is, they’re good—masking their activity behind dummy accounts, rerouting signals through international servers, but they slipped up. There was a breach in one of Interpol’s restricted archives two days ago, flagged by an AI security system before they could cover their tracks completely.”