Page 52 of Shadows Relived
“He’ll scare when he realizes I’m done playingmiddleman.”
He turned back toward Meaghan. “This only ends when we know exactly who signed that contract on you. If it came from New Horizons, there’s a name behind it, and that name leads us to the top.”
Meaghan didn’t flinch. “Then let’s find it.”
Callen nodded once. “You said you didn’t want to run to your father. I’m not letting you. But I am going to make damn sure he answers for what he’s done.”
Gage whistled low under his breath. “Should’ve brought popcorn.”
Callen smirked faintly. “Too early. But once we get to Biloxi, all bets are off.”
They rode in silence for a stretch, the old two-lane highway snaking through thick trees and sleepy, half-left towns. Dawn was still creeping in slowly behind them. Ahead, it was all shadows and unfinished business.
CHAPTER 19
THEY REACHEDTHE SAFE house a little after noon. It was tucked deep inside a forgotten hunting preserve, swallowed by pine trees and lazy Spanish moss, shielded by a chain-link gate that whined open like no one had touched it in years. Gage leaned out the window to punch in the code, and the gate clattered inward.
Meaghan sat rigid in the backseat, wedged between a duffel bag and a box of medical supplies. She watched the path roll past, the winding dirt road barely wider than the SUV, the silence broken only by the crunch of tires and the occasional bird cry overhead. This part of Mississippi smelled like sun-warmed soil and decay. Wild, untamed.
A safe place to hide, but it didn’t feel safe. Not really. She supposed nothing did with what was hanging over her head at the moment.
At the end of the path stood a squat, one-story building framed in steel and half-swallowed by vines. It looked abandoned, even haunted. But the moment Gage opened the door, the illusion shattered.
“You’re looking at GSI efficiency at its finest,” Callen said as he nodded at the interior.
She glanced around at polished concrete floors, bulletproof windows that flickered with sensor shields, and the hum of tactical-grade lights illuminating every corner. There were two modest bedrooms, a compact kitchen, a hardened server rack humming in the wall, and enough weapons to outfit a small militia.
Callen stumbled in behind her, his breathing shallow. He rested little, even with her and the others urging him to do so, stubbornly pushing through.
“Dane’s overkill finally pays off,” he muttered, looking around.
“I’m sure he’d be pleased you’re impressed,” Gage called back as he disappeared down the hall to check the perimeter.”
Elvis ambled in last, sunglasses still on despite the low light. “I get first dibs on the hot shower.”
“No arguments here,” Callen said, lowering himself onto the battered leather couch with a wince. “After being in the car with you for the past five hours, I’m ready for you to clean up a little.” A devilish grin creased his face as he bounced his brows at Elvis.
Meaghan watched him, her heart squeezing at the way he bit back the pain she knew had to be making him want to scream. She should’ve stopped him from moving, insisted he simply sit back and rest. But he was Callen, and he had no clue how to stay quiet.
Still, she set the med kit within reach. Just in case.
The rest of the team moved quickly and with purpose. Gage set up the encrypted comms, while Elvis lockeddown the entry points, walking the perimeter, making sure there was no way inside. They both then laid out weapons in silent readiness, the cheerful banter gone for the moment as they made everything ready.
Meaghan lingered by the door for a moment after they entered the safe house, scanning the space like it might vanish if she blinked. She had nothing to unpack—no bag, no changes of clothes, just the same jeans and shirt she’d been wearing since this mess started, rumpled and dust-stained from the road. But she moved with purpose anyway, drawn by instinct more than anything else.
Callen sat stiffly on the edge of the worn leather couch, one hand braced against the armrest, the other cradling his side. She crossed to him without a word, crouched, and reached for the hem of his shirt.
His brow furrowed. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” she said as she gently lifted the fabric. “But I want to.”
The bandage was still mostly intact, but fresh blood had seeped through the gauze. She grabbed the med kit and peeled back the edge of the tape with careful fingers. Callen hissed through his teeth but didn’t pull away.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” she murmured, inspecting the wound. “You should be resting.”
He smirked faintly. “Says the woman who’s barely slept in two days.”
“Touché.”
