Page 45 of What Remains

His smile comes and goes fast. “Good.” His thumb traces slow circles over the cotton of my sweats. “Your dad and the others will be here any second. Carter texted, and they’re driving here now.”

I must’ve passed out for longer than I thought.

He pats my thigh once, then again, like he’s unsure about staying in this position for long with my dad on his way. “Do you want to talk about the nightmare?”

“It wasn’t about what happened to me.” I’m sure that’s where his mind is at. “Just a bad dream.” I lift my head to look at him. “You learn anything while I was asleep? I assume you’ve talked to Carter aside from him letting you know he’s en route. Everyone at Falcon safe and secure?”

“I have, and they are,” he acknowledges, his fingertips curling into a fist on my thigh. “Julian and Natasha canvassed the island, but they have no idea who they’re looking for outside of a brunette in her early forties. It’s late, so they said there aren’t too many people outside, but my guess? Jezebel’s already gone. Probably left by boat.”

Maybe Zoey was right to want to go back?

“What about the compound? Did they get an aerial view of the place with satellites?”

Easton shifts my legs to the side and rises. Not a good sign.

“It’s gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?” He turns his back to me before I can finish my question. What a useless waste of perfectly good air quotes. “What is it you aren’t telling me?”

He drags his fingers through his hair, and his back lifts with a sharp inhalation. “Multiple missiles were launched,” he says upon an exhale, his voice hoarse. “A targeted strike. The entire place was blown off the map.”

“I don’t understand.” I steady my hands next to me and push off the cushions to stand.

“It was a sanctioned hit.” He slowly faces me. “Australian Defence Command authorized the action.”

Now I know why the color is gone from his face.

But how? Or, more like, why?

“A falsified maritime distress call was made indicating patrol boats were under fire from somewhere on the island. Their analysts saw weapons on the satellite feed that weren’t actually there. The Australian’s Hobart-class destroyer was already on station outside territorial waters. The decision came down to launch a Tomahawk strike on the compound and eliminate the threat,” he explains fast. “They found out too late that both the call and the intel were fake.”

I start to tear my hands through my hair, but dammit, it’s braided. With my self-soothing efforts thwarted, I drop my palms to my stomach.

“It wasn’t incompetence on their part. Brass did what most would’ve done in that situation. They believed they were about to be attacked, so . . .” He shakes his head. “At least no one innocent was hurt. But there was obviously something there Jezebel never wanted anyone to get their hands on.”

“Who the hell is this woman? How is it possible she got to me and knows about Falcon? And could dupe an entire country’s defense systems?” Shock takes me back down to the couch. “I—I don’t understand.”

Easton drops next to me and loops his arm behind my back, drawing me to his side. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find⁠—”

“They’re here,” Zoey calls out, and I look over to see her in the doorway of the living room.

Easton helps me stand, and my heart races faster than I can code as we start for the front door. She has it open and waiting for us when we get there, and the second I see my dad exiting the SUV, my knees buckle.

I slap my hand to the doorframe for support, and Dad springs into action and starts for me. Easton steps to the side as my dad hauls me into his arms, crushing me against him.

“Gwen.” He cups the back of my head, holding me tight while getting emotional on me as if he just learned I’m alive. Maybe seeing is believing?

A rattling sound comes from my chest as I break down and lose it, too. I’m no longer a twenty-seven-year-old adult capable of taking down governments with a few keystrokes. As I cry out, “Daddy,” I’m just a scared and relieved girl in the safety of her father’s arms.

I start to sink to my knees, but he catches me, keeping me upright. “I’ve got you.” Without letting me go, he rasps, “Easton, I’ll never forget this. I’ll never forget what you did for my baby girl.”

I go through the motions. Hugs. Tears. All the things.

Dad’s “baby girl” lingers in the air. Something I bet is now locked in Easton’s mind as a reminder of who I am and who I’ll probably always be to him—his friend’s daughter.

“Glad you’re good.” Julian’s intimidating older brother approaches me after I’ve hugged Natasha and Carter. No hug from Gideon, just a pat on the shoulder, which tracks. He’s quite possibly the only man who scares me more than Carter. Well, more than Carter used to. You know, before I saw his softer side.

Julian is the last to step forward, and he wraps me up in his arms like I’m important to him. I mean, maybe I am? As a friend, of course. And I probably shouldn’t peek around him mid-hug to see whether Easton’s watching, but I do it anyway.