Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Riley tries to act like it’s fine. Like she’s not rattled. Like she’s not scared.
But I saw her hands shake when she picked up a shattered piece of glass with her own reflection in it.
I saw her swallow the panic like it was a pill she’s learned to live on.
I don’t like it.
And I don’t like the way the lab feels… violated.
It’s quiet for a minute.
Then the door opens.
A man steps inside fast, like he ran from wherever he was the second he heard. He’s in his fifties, tall but not imposing, hair more gray than not, his face lined with the kind of stress that doesn’t come from age—it comes from responsibility. He looks left. Right. Takes in the destruction with a sharp inhale.
Then his eyes land on Riley.
“Riley.”
Her breath catches. Her whole posture changes like someone loosened a knot inside her. “Dr. Hammond,” she says, and the way her voice softens tells me everything I need to know about who he is to her.
He crosses the room in three strides and pulls her into a hug like he’s been holding his breath all day. Riley melts into it for a second—just one second—before she straightens, embarrassed by the show of emotion.
I clock that too.
Not because it’s wrong.
Because it matters.
“Jesus,” Hammond murmurs, looking at her hair, her face, checking her like she’s a kid who scraped her knees. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she says automatically.
He pulls back and takes in the wreckage again, jaw flexing. “This is insane. This is… this is targeted.”
“It was,” Riley says quietly. “They weren’t trying to steal laptops. They were looking for my work.”
Hammond’s eyes flick to me—quick, assessing. “And you are?”
“Sergeant Crewe Hawthorne,” I say. “Pararescue.”
Recognition flashes in his expression. He’s heard the debrief. He knows what happened on that mountainside.
His gaze returns to Riley. “Where are you staying tonight?”
Riley opens her mouth.
I cut in before she can get the words out. “With me.”
The air shifts.
Riley blinks, surprised. Hammond’s brows pull together, but not in anger—concern. Interest. The kind of man who thinks he’s earned the right to know things because he cares.
Maybe he has.
I still don’t like it.
Hammond looks between us. “With you… where?”
Riley glances at me, like she wants to explain, like she’s trying to prove she’s fine. Like she’s trying to keep the people around her calm so nobody panics.
That instinct will get her killed.
I keep my voice polite. Controlled. “Secure location. Command-approved.”
Hammond doesn’t love that answer. I can tell. But he watches my stance, the way I’m positioned between Riley and the world, and he reads the truth anyway.
Riley’s hand slips into Hammond’s again, a reflex. “He’s keeping me safe,” she says softly.
My chest tightens at the way she says it.
Like she trusts it.
Hammond squeezes her fingers. “Good.” His voice roughens. “Because I have a very bad feeling about this.”
Riley swallows. “Me too.”
Hammond’s eyes sweep the room again, then sharpen. “Did they take anything? Drives? Paper copies?”
“No,” Riley says. “They trashed things. They went through everything. They wanted access. Or…” She hesitates, voice thinning. “Or they wanted to scare me.”
Hammond’s face shifts—something like guilt flashes there. Or fear. Hard to tell.
He reaches out and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear like it’s a habit. “Riley… this program is bigger than anyone wants to admit. Bigger than your lab. Bigger than Ridgeway.”
Riley’s lips part, and for a second she looks like she might fall apart.
Then she leans forward and hugs him again, quick and tight. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she whispers. “I don’t know why they’d want—”
Hammond wraps her up like he can shield her from the whole damn world. “You don’t have to figure it out alone,” he murmurs.
I stand there, watching, and the protective part of me doesn’t ease.
It sharpens.
Because he cares about her. That’s clear.
But caring doesn’t make you safe.
It doesn’t make you clean.
It doesn’t mean you’re not desperate enough to do something stupid.
And right now, every person who asks Riley a question goes into my mental file under Potential Problem.
Riley pulls away, wiping her eyes like she’s angry at herself for having them.
Hammond looks at me again. “I’d like to speak with Major Chen.”
“She’s aware,” I say.
Hammond nods, then lowers his voice. “Crewe. Off the record. Keep her close. Someone doesn’t just wreck a base lab unless they’re running out of time.”
I hold his stare. “That’s the plan.”
He gives Riley one more long look—like he wants to imprint her face into his mind—and then he turns and walks out, shoulders tense.
As soon as the door shuts, Riley exhales.
“That was Lyle,” she says, as if I didn’t feel his presence the second he walked in. “He’s… he’s always looked out for me.”
“I can see that.”
She studies me, eyes searching. “You didn’t let me answer.”
“No.”
Her brows lift. “You think he’s involved?”
“I think I don’t trust anyone who isn’t you,” I say simply.