The office was quiet, save for the low hum of the city below. I leaned back in my chair, eyes half-lidded, scotch untouched on the desk when Jason walked in.
He didn't wait for an invitation. Just shut the door behind him and held up the burner phone I'd handed over earlier.
"Found something," he said, eyes sharp.
I straightened, letting the fatigue roll off my shoulders. "Go on."
"There were deleted logs of encrypted messages, some were cloaked pretty deep. Two origin points: one here in New York, the other from Lagos, Nigeria. Whoever sent them used the alias 'Vulture'. Ring any bells?"
Vulture.
That name had passed my desk once before. One of Segun's aliases, or at least someone linked to him. I didn't like how close this was starting to feel.
"I want you to start building a digital net," I said. "Trap the signal if it ever pings again. And keep digging into MI6's employee roster. I'm still convinced we've got a mole."
Jason nodded, but the twitch in his jaw told me he wasn't finished.
"There's more," he said, flipping open his tablet. "A new house, tight encryption, high-level clearance, it just came under our protection via Creed's R&R. Its registered security parameters match the signature we had flagged under the Firefox alias."
I raised a brow.
"She moved in?"
"Yeah. Today."
I let out a low breath and stood. Jason left a beat later, and I climbed the elevator to my penthouse.
Once inside, I dropped the act. No more Commander Creed. Just me.
I tapped into the laptop at the kitchen counter and accessed the signal she thought I hadn't found, the tracker she'd so neatly slipped under my SUV. I'd spotted it hours ago. My internal systems swept for things like that daily.
Still, I didn't remove it.
I stared at the little red dot pulsing on the screen.
"Clever girl," I muttered, smirking.
She was close. Too close. Her new home wasn't far from mine. A deliberate risk? Or just coincidence? Either way, I wasn't going to let her disappear again.
Not this time.
---
The scotch in my glass finally found its way down my throat as I sank into the leather armchair near the window. The city blinked beneath me, oblivious. My reflection stared back in the glass. Tired. Wired. Too full of ghosts.
My mind drifted, back five years.
Mission 9X.
I could still hear the comms, her voice crisp, steady. The way she always got before shit hit the fan. We were deep in enemy territory when the explosion split the comm lines.
I'd searched for her. For days.
Even after the agency called it.
Even after our commander told me to stand down.
I didn't.
I couldn't.
She'd been the best of us. Sharp. Quiet. Fucking lethal. And I loved her, damm I still love her . Maybe I didn't say it then, maybe I didn't even know it. But I felt it every second she was gone.
And now?
Now she was back.
I stood abruptly and walked to my desk. Pulled out a fresh burner, fully untraceable. I copied encrypted files from the MI6 agent's device, details on Segun's money trail, whispers about Vulture's Lagos safehouse.
I didn't attach a note.
Didn't need to.
She'd know it was from me.
I called in one of my internal couriers, one I trusted with my life. Gave him instructions to drop the package along the perimeter of her new home. Not directly to her door. But close enough for her to find it.
By the time I was back at the window, the scotch was gone.
The city blinked. Steady. Beautiful. Oblivious.
My jaw clenched as I whispered to no one.
"If she thinks I'll let her walk away again… she's underestimating how far I'll go to keep her."
Because Naomi was back in my world.
And I'd be damned if she ever left it again.