Page 48 of Code Name: Ghost

Logan lets out a low whistle.

“More than that,” I say, bringing up the corresponding audio file. I boost the gain and isolate Duval’s voice.

“She’ll run to Ryeland. He’ll protect her. It’s what he does. I think it’s hard-wired into his DNA.”

Logan stiffens. I don’t move. Can’t afford to. Not when everything I’d locked away starts cracking beneath the surface.

“They’re using Cherise to get to you.” His voice is quiet, but I catch the undercurrent—accusation. Warning.

“She’s not working with them,” I say.

“I didn’t say she was. But Vallois knows you. He knows how to bait the hook. She’s the perfect lever—familiar, vulnerable, emotional. You’re already in too deep.”

I finally look up. “That wasn’t your call, Logan.”

“Bullshit. We’re Cerberus. Everything’s our call when it risks the op.”

My jaw tightens, and the words land with more truth than I like. I walk to the console and pull up a secondary log—one I haven’t shown him yet.

It’s from earlier tonight. Cherise’s name pops up twice—once tagged to surveillance footage outside Opus Noir, once connected to a digital trail I thought was clean.

“She was tracked here before we brought her in,” I admit. “They were watching for her. Her comms were clean, but her old nursing license profile pinged when she used a street kiosk in Milan. It set off a silent alert tied to an account under Vallois’ holdings.”

Logan curses. “And you brought her right into headquarters?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“No?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Or did you just not want to leave her behind?”

I don’t respond. Because I can’t lie—well, I can, but I won’t... not to Logan.

“She’s not the same woman. She’s stronger now. Smart. Resourceful. But she’s also a liability—because she’s mine.”

The words hang there, heavier than I intend.

Logan arches a brow. “Yours.”

I turn away. “Don’t twist it.”

“You don’t get to play both sides of the leash, mate. Either she’s a civilian and we bench her, or she’s on this op and we treat her like any other asset. No more personal stakes.”

He doesn’t understand. He didn’t see the look in her eyes after the scene in the playroom. The way her body responded—not just to the pleasure, but to the trust. She gave me that. Without question. Without a fight.

I close my eyes briefly, running a hand through my hair. “They want me to break protocol. They want me reactive, off balance. And yeah, she’s the fastest way to get there.”

“So pull back,” Logan says, voice clipped. “Step off. Let me run point from here. You can’t think clearly when she’s in your bed and in your sights.”

“She’s not in my bed.”

A beat of silence as Logan quirks his eyebrow at me.

“Okay, she is, but that’s beside the point.”

Before I can say more, the elevator whirs and I see Cherise step into it, heading down to us. The door opens, and she walks to where we’re sitting. She walks in barefoot, wearing one of my black dress shirts and nothing else. Her hair’s still damp from her shower. She stops when she sees Logan, eyes flicking between us.

“I couldn’t sleep. Did I interrupt something?”

I exhale through my nose. “We’re done here,” I tell Logan.

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