Page 35 of Axel Martin

If Marley knew him,reallyknew him, she was in deeper than I thought.

Lark came back into the room, towel-drying her hair and wearing one of my hoodies that hit her mid-thigh. She paused when she saw me.

“You found something.”

I nodded, lips tight. “She’s not just visiting Gaza. She’s walking into a powder keg. And Bishop isn’t just some guy. He’s a one-man intelligence operation with more enemies than friends.”

Lark sat on the couch, her expression shifting. She didn’t look scared—just sharper. More present. “Do you think Marley’s trying to blow the whistle on something?”

“Maybe. Or maybe she already has, and now she’s trying to disappear.”

A beat passed.

“She always wanted to do something that mattered,” Lark whispered. “But she never knew how to stop once the fire started burning.”

I looked at her. “And you?”

She met my gaze. “I’m learning to stop before I burn out.”

I moved to the couch and sat beside her. “You’re not your sister.”

“I know. But part of me always wanted to be. She was brave. Fearless.”

“She was reckless,” I said gently. “You, on the other hand, are braveandsmart. And maybe the best thing you can do right now is just—breathe. Stay ready. But don’t chase after a storm that isn’t yours.”

She leaned into me, her body warm against mine. “Promise you’ll tell me if you find out something more?”

“Always.”

Just then, my phone buzzed again. Another encrypted number. This one had no message—just a location pin.

A hotel on the outskirts of Amman, Jordan.

I stared at it, jaw clenched. “Looks like the trail’s already started.”

Lark peeked at the screen. “What does it mean?”

“It means either Marley wants someone to find her… or she just sent her last breadcrumb.”

33

Lark

It was supposed to be a recovery week.

Long walks. Quiet mornings. Maybe even figuring out if I wanted to get my teaching credential or go back to storm chasing with more padding and fewer stupid risks.

Instead, I found myself Googling“how to discreetly track encrypted pings across international borders.”Not helpful.

Axel was outside, walking the perimeter like someone might pop out of the forest with a missile launcher. I didn’t blame him. The text from Marley was unsettling. The pin drop from some anonymous source in Jordan? Even worse.

I was staring at her last message on my phone when I heard the door creak open.

“You’re pacing,” Axel said. “And muttering.”

“Multitasking,” I replied, scrolling through Marley’s social feed—only to find it completely wiped clean.

No photos. No tweets. No trace.

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