Page 80 of Duty Compromised
“The FBI and everyone at Vertex. I need you to buy us time,” I corrected. “Stick as close to the truth as possible. We went to a safe house. There was an explosion. Let them draw their own conclusions. See if anyone is particularly interested. Stall any investigation into recovering bodies. Blame it on the fire, structural damage, whatever you need to say.”
“For how long?”
“Until the auction. Three days. Give Charlotte a chance to finish the stabilizer code.” I met his eyes. “Can you do that?”
George straightened, and I saw the soldier he’d once been shine through the federal agent exterior. “Yeah. I can sell it. But Ty, if there’s really a mole with that level of access?—”
“Let’s work one problem at a time,” Ethan cut in. “Deal with the fire about to burn down the house then we’ll worry about the bigger one in the distance.”
A soft footstep, barely audible, made everyone tense. Charlotte stood in the doorway, wearing my old Army shirt that hung to mid-thigh, bare feet silent on the floor. Her hair fell in tangled auburn waves around her face, and the morning light streaming through the windows showed just how pale she’d become. The dark circles under her eyes looked like bruises, purple and deep. She’d been up most of the night working on code while I stood guard, fighting through equation after equation, and exhaustion made her sway slightly in the doorframe.
“I heard voices,” she said, her voice still rough with sleep. “The mole isn’t someone from inside the lab?”
I shook my head. “No, it may be someone inside the FBI.”
“But George has to tell everyone at work that I’m dead?”
The vulnerability in her voice hit me like a physical blow. She’d caught enough of the conversation to understand what we were asking George to do. Her colleagues, her friends—they’d all think she was gone.
I crossed to her, fighting the urge to pull her against me. “We need to. It’s temporary. Just for a few days.”
“Darcy will be devastated,” she said quietly. “Marcus, Linda, the whole team. They’ll think?—”
“They’ll think you died in an accident,” I said gently. “And in three days, when this is over, you’ll walk back in, and they’ll be so relieved to see you alive they won’t even be angry about the deception.”
She nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around herself. The gesture made her look smaller, more fragile. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, that I’d keep her safe, but the words felt hollow given everything we’d been through.
“Charlotte,” Ethan said, his voice gentling in a way I rarely heard. “I’m Ethan Cross, Ty’s employer. We’re going to keep you safe. You have my word on that.”
She studied him for a moment, that brilliant mind calculating behind tired eyes. “You run Citadel Solutions. Ty’s mentioned you.”
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “He said you were tough but fair. And that you always protect your people.”
“That’s right. And right now, you’re under our protection. That makes you family.”
The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning. In Citadel, family meant everything. It meant we’d bleed for you, kill for you, die for you if necessary. Charlotte might not fully understand that yet, but she would.
George stood, pulling his shoulders back. “I should go. The longer I’m missing, the more questions there’ll be. I’ll sell the story, buy you the time you need.”
“Be careful,” I said. “Whoever’s running this operation, they’ve already shown they’re willing to kill. If they think you know something?—”
“I’ll play dumb—not that that’s too far from the truth. I’ll lean into the grieving friend bit, shocked by the loss.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “Ty, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. If I’d known my phone was compromised?—”
“Not your fault,” I said firmly. “Just watch your back.”
He nodded and left, Donovan escorting him out and presumably making sure he actually left the property. The room felt smaller with just the three of us, the weight of what we were facing pressing down like a physical force.
“So,” Ethan said, his tone shifting to all business. “Three days until the auction. What’s our play?”
“Charlotte needs to finish the countermeasure before the auction,” I said. “Everything depends on that. We’re running out of time.”
Charlotte shivered slightly, and this time, I did reach for her, my hand settling on her lower back. She leaned into the touch, just barely, but enough that I felt the trust in that small gesture.
“Roger that,” Ethan said. “I’ll get the rest of the team here so you can get some rest before you fall over.”
“We’ve all got jobs to do,” I said, looking between Ethan and Charlotte. “Until the auction, we do what we do best—we keep everyone alive.”
