Chapter 15

15

The locket at Paige's throat suddenly felt as heavy as an anvil, its cool metal burning against her skin like a brand of unwelcome truth. She staggered back, gripping the kitchen counter for support as her mind reeled, trying to process the impossible.

Her father—a man she'd buried both literally and figuratively years ago—had just burst back into her life like a ghost with unfinished business. The kitchen, once a sanctuary of predictable routine, now warped and twisted around her, as if reality itself was rebelling against this new information.

Paige's fingers trembled as they traced the familiar contours of the locket. With each touch, fragments of her past rearranged themselves like pieces of a demented puzzle. The picture they formed was so alien, so at odds with the narrative she'd clung to for years.

Had her father's absence been an act of protection rather than disgust? The thought wormed its way into her mind, challenging years of hurt and resentment.

Her mind reeled, grasping for solid ground in this shifting landscape of revelations. The Consortium? Her father? It was too much, too fast, like trying to drink from a fire hose of information.

She whirled on Cody, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desperation. The others faded into the background, mere spectators to this sudden, personal drama.

"My dad never would have done that," she spat, her voice raw with emotion. "He'd never work with the Consortium."

Cody held her gaze, his expression a blend of sympathy and resolve that only fueled her anger. "I'm not saying he knew who he was working for," he acknowledged, his voice maddeningly calm. "The Consortium hires experts all the time."

"Mostly they end up dead," Tai muttered from somewhere behind her.

The words hit Paige like a physical blow. She swallowed hard, feeling as if she'd just gulped down a mouthful of sand. Tai was right. Atticus Penderson, brilliant as he was, had always been the quintessential absentminded professor. Details like money, appointments, even his only child's birthdays, had slipped through the cracks of his laser-focused mind once he became immersed in his work.

The realization settled over her like a heavy blanket. Her father wouldn't have been hard to fool. The thought was bitter, but undeniably true.

Maybe. Okay. Sure.

The lump in her throat shrank a little, allowing her to breathe more easily. But in its place, a new weight settled in her. The room came back into focus, her teammates' concerned faces swimming into view as she grappled with this new reality.

Bridger's eyes narrowed, his voice low and controlled. "Well, that's a gut punch."

Kate's hand twitched towards her sidearm, an unconscious gesture. "Need to hit something, Paige? I'll spot you."

Tai grunted, his massive frame coiled with tension. "Consortium's gonna have a real bad day once we catch up with them."

Fenn's fingers flew over his tablet, already digging for information. "Running background. Might find some breadcrumbs."

Mason's face was a mask of grim determination. "Intel changes the op. We adapt. We overcome."

Graham, ever the XO, locked eyes with Paige. "Whatever you need, your six is covered. Full stop."

The team's presence radiated silent support, their bodies instinctively forming a protective perimeter around Paige. The air crackled with a familiar pre-mission tension, but this time, it was personal.

These weren't just teammates; they were her unit, ready to step into whatever lay ahead. Together.

The team's reaction was subtle but unmistakable to Paige's trained eye. Years of high-stakes operations had honed their ability to communicate volumes with the slightest shifts in posture and expression.

Bridger's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking at the corner. His stance widened imperceptibly, as if bracing for impact.

Kate's eyes darted around the room, assessing potential threats. Her fingers drummed a staccato rhythm against her thigh, excess energy seeking an outlet.

Tai's massive frame expanded, filling more space. His nostrils flared slightly, reminiscent of a bull preparing to charge.

Fenn's brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes taking on that distant look that meant his mind was racing through scenarios and contingencies.

Mason stood stock-still, only his eyes moving as he scanned each team member, gauging their reactions and readiness.

Graham's shoulders squared, his chin lifting a fraction. It was the same pose he adopted before every mission briefing.

As one, they had shifted closer to Paige, not crowding but creating a human barrier between her and the outside world.

The air in the kitchen thickened with unspoken promises of retribution and support. Without a word, they had transformed from a group of individuals into a cohesive unit, ready for action.

Paige felt the change like a physical force, drawing strength from their silent solidarity. In their faces, she saw not pity, but a shared resolve. Whatever came next, she knew with bone-deep certainty that this team—her team—would be right there with her.

As the team rallied around her, Paige's gaze was drawn to Cody. He stood slightly apart, his body language a stark contrast to the unified front of her teammates.

Cody's posture was tense, coiled like a spring ready to release. His jaw worked silently, as if he was chewing on words he couldn't quite spit out.

One hand was shoved deep in his pocket, while the other clenched and unclenched at his side. Paige recognized the telltale signs of someone fighting the urge to fidget.

As the team's attention focused on her, Cody shrank into himself, his shoulders hunching slightly. It was as if he was trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible—a far cry from his usual cocky demeanor.

When their eyes met briefly, Paige caught a flash of something in his expression—regret? Concern? It was gone too quickly for her to be sure. But there was an intensity in his gaze that made her breath catch.

Cody opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, swallowing hard. His Adam's apple bobbed visibly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable but making no move to leave.

To Paige, he looked like a man carrying a heavy burden—one he wasn't sure how to share. Despite the bombshell he'd just dropped, she found herself wondering what else he might be holding back, and why.

Her mind raced, the pieces of her father's puzzle slowly clicking into place. The room faded around her as she lost herself in memories and speculation.

Kate's voice cut through her reverie. "That's probably why he pushed you away."

Graham's gruff tone followed, tinged with a hint of regret. "Makes sense. One job leads to another, until you realize you're hip deep in a swamp." He paused, his next words barely above a whisper. "I've got experience with that feeling."

Paige's gaze snapped to Graham, seeing the haunted look in his eyes. She knew his story—the elite black ops Marine who'd walked away from his wife and toddler, believing it was the only way to keep them safe. Even now, three decades later, he was still trying to mend fences with his daughter, Tenaya.

The parallel hit her like a punch to the gut. Had her father faced the same impossible choice?

She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. There'd be time for speculation later. Right now, they had a mission.

"If my DNA can open a door to saving Jason and destroying the virus, I'm in," she declared, her voice stronger than she felt.

Her eyes swept the room, lingering for a moment on Cody. His face was an unreadable mask, but something in his stance continued to set off warning bells in her head.

The fact that she was going to have to watch out for the Consortium ... and Cody ... only made things more treacherous.

She squared her shoulders, feeling the familiar pre-mission adrenaline beginning to course through her veins. "So, when do we leave?"

The team straightened, their bodies instinctively responding to the shift in her energy. Paige felt a surge of gratitude for their unwavering support, even as a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a warning.

This mission was personal, and personal meant unpredictable. As her gaze met Cody's across the room, she knew one thing for certain—she'd need every ounce of her training and instincts to navigate the minefield ahead.

She zeroed in on Cody, cataloging a series of subtle but telling details.

His eyes darted away too quickly when she caught his gaze, a flicker of ... was that guilt again? Or just unease? His right hand kept brushing against his pocket, a nervous tic she'd never noticed before. What else was he hiding?