Page 13 of Damian
“Morgan?”
I swallowed hard. “Damian, you need to hear this. It’s not just Ruby. Luthor’s reaching further. Bright Shores Foundation, Caldwell, Hub 9… and Raine Carter’s name is all over it.”
Silence. Then a curse, sharp and low.
“Bloody hell,” he breathed. “Stay put, love. We’ll be back soon.”
But I could hear it in his tone — the storm had already shifted, and I’d just handed him the match to light it.
12
Morgan
Iended the call and set the sat phone down like it might bite me. My pulse was still racing, my hands clammy.
Raine Carter. Her name glared up at me from the page, ink and pixels, but it felt like a target painted on her back. If Luthor could reach that deep — to someone hidden, someone strong, someone connected — then Ruby wasn’t just leverage. She was one thread in a net that could strangle anyone.
The farmhouse creaked in the wind. I jumped, heart pounding, then laughed at myself, shaky and breathless. “Get a grip, Mo,” I whispered. “It’s just wood and weather.”
Still, I checked the locks. Twice.
I went back to the table, spread the papers into neater stacks, like organization might keep me safe. The recorder blinked red on the corner, waiting. I pressed the button and let the words tumble.
“Raine Carter. Caldwell Logistics. Hub 9. The Bright Shores Foundation isn’t a charity, it’s a hunting blind. Theyforge names, steal reputations, hide behind good people. Anyone can be a mask.”
My voice crackedon the last word. I yanked out the earbuds and shoved the recorder into my pocket like I could muffle my own fear.
The silence afterward was worse.
I grabbed my mug, found the coffee cold, poured it out just to have something to do. My reflection stared back from the window above the sink — pale, tired, too-big eyes. I hardly recognized myself.
Ruby would have teased me.You look like a haunted librarian, Mo.
The memory hurt, sharp as glass. I pressed both palms to the counter and whispered to the empty room, “Hold on, kiddo. Just hold on.”
Headlights swept the wall.
My chest froze. The lane outside was gravel, narrow. No one came up here without a reason.
I ducked, heart thundering. Slowly, I crept to the front window, peering through the slats. A car crawled past the drive, too slow, its beams cutting over the yard before disappearing into the dark.
Not Damian’s van.
I stayed crouched,every muscle rigid, until the night swallowed the sound of the engine.
Only then did I exhale, shaky and uneven.
The farmhouse felt smaller, the shadows deeper. I forced myself back to the table, stacked the manifests into a single folder, and set them dead center. If Damian came back with bad news, I wanted to be ready.
And if that car wasn’t just passing by… I wanted him to know I’d tried to fight the fear with something solid. Facts. Names. Threads he could pull.
I pressed my hand over the recorder in my pocket, its weight a tiny anchor.I’m not useless,I told myself.I’m not just waiting.
But the truth pressed back just as hard: until Damian walked back through that door, I was alone.
And Luthor knew it.
13
