Chapter 44

The coffee shop was quiet, its walls bathed in soft morning light filtering through the large windows. The gentle hum of conversation from a few scattered patrons mixed with the sound of clinking cups and the distant crash of waves from the nearby coast. It was a far cry from the cold, sterile environments Hatch had grown accustomed to during her time with Talon. This place felt warmer, more real.

Hatch sat in the corner, her back to the wall, a steaming cup of black coffee in front of her. She hadn’t touched it. Across from her, Tracy and Banyan were seated, the weight of their shared history palpable in the silence between them.

Tracy was the first to speak, his voice low but steady. “You’re free and clear, Hatch. The situation with Thorne—it’s never going to come back to haunt you. I’ve made sure of it.”

Hatch studied him for a moment, her expression guarded. “That’s what they said the first time someone put a target on my back.”

Tracy didn’t flinch. “I get it. But this time, it’s different. Thorne was the one pulling the strings. With him gone, no one’s left to come after you.”

Hatch leaned back in her chair. “Talon hasn’t felt like home since—” She stumbled over the words. “Ever since Cruise died, it’s been off balance. And Thorne’s involvement… well, that was the final nail in the coffin.”

Banyan shifted, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve got a knack for surviving, though. You’ve been a pain in a lot of people’s asses, and yet, here you are.”

Hatch allowed herself a small smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m not giving them a third chance,” she said, her voice firm. “I can’t stay tied to this. Not anymore.”

The air between them grew heavier as Tracy and Banyan exchanged glances. There was no sugarcoating it. Hatch was done. The decision was final.

Tracy’s voice conveyed his understanding. “We won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’ve earned that. And we’ll always keep an ear out. If there’s any whisper of trouble, you’ll be the first to know.”

Banyan leaned forward, his tone more serious than usual. “You know, the threat might not ever completely disappear. You’ve pissed off a lot of the wrong people.” His attempt at humor was thin, but it showed his concern.

Hatch met his eyes. “I’m laying low for a while,” she said, her tone even. “I need to keep my head down until I’m sure there’s no lingering threat. Steering clear of my family until I know they won’t get caught in the crossfire.”

Tracy shifted, the conversation moving to practical matters. “We’ve set up an offshore account for you. Clean and untraceable. Banyan made sure of that. Consider it a severance package.”

Hatch raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “Severance, huh? Didn’t think I was entitled to one.”

Tracy shrugged, his face serious. “You’ve done more for this organization than most people will ever know. Consider it a thank you.”

“It’s all set.” Banyan tapped on his tablet, pulling up the details. “No one will be able to link it to you. You’re basically a ghost now.”

Hatch appreciated the gesture even though she knew it wasn’t about the money. It never had been. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “But this isn’t about money. It’s about freedom.”

Both men fell silent, knowing there wasn’t much left to say. They’d seen her through countless missions, countless near-death situations. And now, they were watching her walk away from it all.

“So,” Tracy said, his voice quieter now, almost cautious. “What’s next for you? Where do you go from here?”

Hatch’s thoughts wandered to the mountains, to the promise she’d made to a man who was supposed to be dead. “I made a promise. And I plan to keep it.”

Banyan’s usual cocky demeanor softened, if only for a moment. “Wherever you go, Hatch, they won’t forget you. But we’ll always have your back.”

Hatch finished her cup in a shared silence before standing. The weight of Talon, of Thorne, of everything that had led her to this point began to lift, if only slightly. She looked at the two men, both of whom had been by her side more times than she could count. She’d cut her own path before. She’d do it again.

“You take care of yourselves,” she said, her tone a mix of gratitude and warning. “Don’t get tangled up in anything you can’t walk away from.”

“Same goes for you.”

Without another word, Hatch turned and headed for the door, her footsteps steady and purposeful. The cool morning air greeted her as she stepped outside. The fresh scent of the ocean carried on the breeze. The sun was rising higher, casting long shadows on the sidewalk as people passed by, oblivious to the world Hatch had just walked away from.

The future stretched out before her like an open road—uncertain, but free.

There was one thing she knew for sure.

There was a promise to keep. And Hatch always kept her promises.