Page 14 of Damian
Damian
The satellite phone clicked dead in my ear, Morgan’s voice still echoing through the static.Bright Shores Foundation. Raine Carter’s name is all over it.
I’d fought wars with less weight behind them than that single sentence.
In the van, Cyclone’s eyes cut to me from the driver’s seat. “What was that?”
“Morgan found a link.” My voice came out flat, hard. “Bright Shores isn’t just a front. Caldwell’s using it to launder shipments. And Raine’s name is tied to it.”
River’s head snapped around. “Raine Carter? Our Raine?”
“The same,” I said. My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “If Luthor’s people are forging names, planting hers, it means he’s expanding the net. He’s not just moving product. He’s sending a message.”
River swore under his breath. “Bloody hell. Carter and Raine are supposed to be under the radar. If he’s close enough to use their names…”
“He’s close enough to flush them out,” I finished.
The van bumped over the cracked road, the docks receding behind us. My gut pulled tight, instincts screaming. Morgan had sounded steady when she called, but there was something underneath — a tremor she couldn’t hide.
“Step on it,” I told Cyclone.
He didn’t argue. The engine growled, speed climbing as the city lights bled into the dark countryside.
I replayed Morgan’s words in my head. The way she whispered into that bloody recorder of hers, thinking she was being subtle. The way she fit puzzle pieces together with no training, just raw instinct, and too much heart. She was dangerous, not because she was reckless, but because she wasright.
And if she was right about Bright Shores, then Luthor already knew she was digging.
River checked the rearview, restless. “What if someone tailed us out here? What if that safehouse isn’t as quiet as we think?”
I didn’t let the thought show on my face, but it sliced through me all the same.
If anyone touched her while we were out—
Cyclone’s voice broke through, calm as always. “Five minutes out.”
I chambered a round, my mind already moving three steps ahead. Secure Morgan. Lock down the files. Plan the next move before Luthor dictates it.
But under the soldier’s discipline, a sharper truth pulsed: Morgan Tate wasn’t just a civilian we’d pulled from the fire. She was inside the fight now. And if Luthor was half as clever as I knew he was, he’d already marked her as a piece on his board.
“Hang on, love,” I muttered under my breath, too quiet for the others to hear. “We’re coming.”
The van ate the road, every second stretching longer than I could stand.
And for the first time in years, the fear wasn’t for me.
It was for her.
14
Damian
The safehouse sat at the end of the gravel lane, dark against the stretch of fields, no lights showing through the curtains. Too dark.
Cyclone killed the engine a hundred meters out. We went the rest on foot, boots silent, rifles up. Every shadow looked like a threat, every rustle like a warning. My chest tightened with the kind of dread I usually buried six feet deep.
If Luthor had found her—
I raised a fist. River peeled left, Cyclone circled wide. I took the front.
