Page 62 of Broken Trust
Tomorrow, she’d walk into a snake den.
With the only man she wanted right there beside her.
Hope lifted inside her, a bright flare shooting through the dark world she’d been living in for two years. If they both made it out alive…maybe, just maybe, they could fix their relationship.
Fix their forever.
THIRTEEN
The shooting range called to Mason like a siren, and damn did he needed to shoot something.
Targets didn’t argue with him about whether he was going to protect the only woman who ever meant a goddamn thing to him. The repetitive act of pulling the trigger would give him some even ground to stand on again too.
For the second time, he was going to watch Elin walk into danger. And he wasn’t any more prepared for it now than he had been two years ago.
Two years ago, the intel had been solid and the area cleared of threat—or so they’d thought. Could they say the same this time around? That had only been a simple exchange of intel, the op planned for days. They knew the moves inside and out.
This was happening too fast. He felt too out of control.
Goddamn the forever ticking countdown.
Elin could be walking into Kent’s trap, and ultimately Cipher’s.
If things went sideways…
Because theywouldgo sideways. They always did.
Then he’d be there, goddammit.
His boots ate up the length of the hallway leading to the mansion’s lower level, his fingers twitching to pull the trigger and fire into the target, to feel the recoil slamming into him again and again.
His fingers ached from clenching them into tight fists, and he forced them to straighten at his sides. His jaw was so tight it ached, but target practice would take care of that.
“Mason. A word.”
Fuck.He could no sooner walk away from Con’s commanding voice than he could stop his feelings for Elin from growing by the minute.
His feet dragged to a halt and turned.
His CO was braced in the doorway of his personal office, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything else, just flicked two fingers in a clear directive for Mason to follow.
Mason’s gut clenched. He already knew what was coming. Con was about to pull him off the op, tell him he was too close, too emotionally invested to be there.
And maybe he was right.
But Mason couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Elin walk into this without him.
He followed Con into the office.
The space was one of the more impressive ones. High ceilings made the room feel larger than it was. Bookshelves lined the walls, floor to ceiling. Where they had once stood empty, they were now filled with volumes on everything from military strategy to classic literature. Sophie’s influence, of course. The woman had taken Con’s spartan workspace and made it charming.
Some of Con’s medals sat on shelves too, mounted on velvet and framed. A Silver Star. Two Bronze Stars. A Purple Heart.
Reminders of what each and every member of Charlie team was. A fucking hero.
“Shut the door,” Con said.
Mason did, then stood at attention in front of his desk.
