Page 88 of Duty Compromised
Tomorrow, it would be over. The Cascade Protocol would be neutralized, the buyers arrested, and Alex would face justice for his betrayal. After that, maybe Ty and I could figure out what this thing between us meant when people weren’t trying to kill us. Maybe I could return to my life, to my work, to some semblance of normal.
Or maybe normal was overrated. Maybe standing next to Tyler Hughes while he planned tactical operations was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Either way, we were ready.
It was time for this nightmare to be over.
Chapter 26
Ty
The van’s suspension protested every pothole as we rolled through the industrial district on St. Louis’s south side. Ethan drove with the same steady control he brought to everything, hands relaxed on the wheel despite what we were heading into. I rode shotgun, my Glock checked and rechecked, spare magazines distributed across my tactical vest.
Behind us, Charlotte worked on her laptop, surrounded by enough electronic equipment to stock a small Radio Shack.
I didn’t like her being here one fucking bit.
“Two klicks out,” Ethan said, voice calm as if we were heading to a coffee shop instead of an arms deal with terrorists.
In the back, metal clicked against metal as Donovan also performed final weapons checks. My brother worked with mechanical precision, each movement economical and practiced.
I watched Charlotte’s reflection in the side mirror as her hands danced across the keyboard, making real-time adjustments to the stabilizer’s parameters. My jaw clenched involuntarily. This hadn’t been the plan. She was supposed to stay back at my parents’, monitoring remotely. Safe. Protected.
Not sitting in the back of a van heading straight into a meet with arms dealers and terrorists.
But she’d discovered anomalies in the Protocol’s signature during her final diagnostics. Something about phase drift and frequency modulation that meant she needed to be within transmission range to make adjustments.
“I can’t debug remotely if something goes wrong,” she’d insisted. “The entanglement protocols need real-time adjustment.”
She’d explained it three times, each with increasing technical detail, until we all had to admit she was right. And most importantly, the mission came first. Always did.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t furious about it.
“Logan, status?” Ethan said into his throat mic.
“Overwatch position secured.” Logan’s voice crackled through the comms, steady and professional. “I have eyes on the warehouse. No movement yet. Approach routes are clear.”
Logan had deployed before us, establishing himself on the roof of an abandoned factory with clear sight lines to our target. If anyone tried to flank us, he would see them coming. Small comfort, but comfort, nonetheless. Ben and Jolly were doing sweeps of the perimeter.
“Copy that,” Ethan replied. “Maintain position.”
Jace’s voice cut through next, transmitted from his command post at a hotel three miles away. “All frequencies clear. Sellers should be arriving soon. I’m monitoring local police bands—no unusual chatter. You’re still dark.”
That was important. Local law enforcement would do more harm than good in this situation.
“George’s team is in position,” Jace added. “Four units staged at the perimeter, ready to move on your signal.”
George had handpicked his backup—FBI agents he knew personally, ones he was certain were beyond corruption. They’d move in for arrests once we secured the Protocol, and another team was ready to grab Alex Richards back at Vertex. The FBI was letting Citadel run point because of the mole situation, but they were there, waiting for my signal to bring the full weight of federal law enforcement down on these bastards.
I glanced back at Charlotte. She’d pulled her auburn hair into a tight braid, every strand controlled and contained, like she was trying to impose order through sheer will. Her face glowed blue from the laptop screen, those green eyes tracking data streams I couldn’t begin to understand.
She looked beautiful. Brilliant. And absolutely shouldn’t be here.
“Ty.” Donovan’s voice pulled me from my spiral. “She’ll be fine. We’ve got this covered.”
I met my brother’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He knew what Charlotte meant to me—had figured it out the moment he’d seen her in my shirt at that motel. But knowing it and accepting it were two different things.
“Still hate this,” I muttered.
