Page 131 of Desperate People

I want to tell him it’s okay to trust me, to just let this moment with my family roll off us like water off a duck’s back.

But the words stick in my throat.

Because the silence between us speaks louder than anything else tonight.

And all I can do is keep whispering the same simple, desperate prayer over and over in my mind.

Please let him love me.

Please let me be enough.

Please don’t let him walk away.

Because if he leaves—if this all falls apart—I don’t know how I’ll survive the pieces.

I’m holding onto hope like a lifeline, clutching it so tight it hurts.

And maybe that’s the scariest part of all.

Chapter Thirty-Two-Balor

Kissing my wife goodnight—chaste, soft, just enough to remind her I’m here—is all I can manage before the weight of what I have to do drags me away.

Because if I don’t pull myself free, I’ll forget everything.

Forget the stakes.

Forget the war I’m waging just to keep her safe.

But I can’t climb in after her.

Not when there’s work to do.

For her.

For us.

I slip quietly into my home office, the place where my mind sharpens into a weapon.

The setup is everything.

Multiple monitors, encrypted connections, the fastest internet I can throw at any problem.

It’s necessary.

Because while I’m a good employee on paper, I’m still what I’ve always been at my core.

A hacker. Obsessed, relentless, calculating.

First on my list—that photographer.

The man my wife’s mom is so fond of.

Javier DeSoto.

Older now, late fifties, if I’m guessing right.

I read it all.

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