Page 59 of Shadows Relived
“That’s exactly the problem,” she said. “I’m done being protected. I want my life back, Elvis. And if he thinks he’s going to take on my father without me, he’s got another thing coming.”
Gage glanced over, brow raised. “He’s already gone, though.”
She shrugged, pushing herself off the counter and turning for a cup of coffee. “And I’m going after him.”
Elvis pushed himself off the counter, moving over to grab the coffeepot before she could. “That’s not what he wanted.” He poured her a cup, and she gripped the handle tighter to keep her hand from shaking.
She gave him a curt nod and then moved to the table on wobbly legs, easing herself down into a chair. The truth was catching up to her. All the quiet moments, the dark looks, the way he always seemed to hesitate like he didn’t think he deserved something good, like her.
“But why now? Why go to my father now? And by himself?”
Elvis gave a weary shrug. “He’s trying to protect you. He thinks if he gets answers, if he faces the senator alone, it’ll end this before you get dragged in deeper.”
“Seems it’s too late for that,” shewhispered.
Elvis dropped back down into a chair across from her, folding his hands on the table. “So. What do you want to do?”
Meaghan didn’t even hesitate. “I already told you. I’m going after him.”
Gage, leaning back in his chair, hands in his lap, let out a quiet sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Callen told us to keep you safe here. That he’d be back.”
“I don’t give a damn what he wanted or what he said,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “I refuse to sit here like some weakling and wait for another man to decide how my story ends. Now, you can either help me or get out of my way. I’ll find my own transportation if I have to.” She took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair. “Now, are you going to help me or what?”
Elvis gave Gage a long look, silence stretching between them. After a moment, he nodded. “We’ll leave in thirty minutes.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “After we get you geared up. And for the record, I still think this is a bad idea.”
She exhaled sharply, tension easing just a fraction. “Thank you.” She shifted in her chair slightly. “And I need something else. I need clothes. Something that doesn’t smell like sweat and motel soap. I’m not facing my father wearing three days of grunge.”
Elvis smiled, giving a slow bob of his head. “We’ll swing by a store on the way out. Get you some proper clothes and shoes.”
“And a phone,” she added, leveling him with a look. “I want my own damn phone. I’m tired of being cut off like a child.”
Elvis gave a reluctant grin. “Whatever you want.”
Gage saluted her with his coffee. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
Meaghan didn’t smile back. She simply lifted her cup to her lips and took a slow sip. Rubbing her lips together, she eased out of her chair, knowing there wasn’t much to pack, but just needing to be alone in her room anyway.
She paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. “And if either of you even think about letting Callen out of your sight again, I swear to God I’ll hunt you down myself.”
Elvis chuckled, low and gruff. “Wraith picked a hell of a woman.”
Meaghan didn’t respond, choosing instead to hide in her room until it was time to go. She turned on her heel and disappeared into the bedroom, already plotting what she would say to Callen when she saw him next. If he thought she was going to forgive him with a kiss and a thank-you, he didn’t know her nearly as well as he thought.
This wasn’t about love anymore.
It was about respect.
And she had already earned it—on her own damn terms too.
As she entered her room, the one she shared with Callen last night, inside, a storm was building. One that had nothing to do with politics or mercenaries or corrupt land deals.
This time, it was personal.
And she was through with letting other people fight herbattles.
The sun had barely burned through the morning haze when they pulled away from the safe house, its camouflaged structure disappearing behind a wall of trees. Gravel crunched beneath the SUV’s tires, the dense canopy overhead filtering early light into shards of gold and green.
Meaghan settled into the backseat, her borrowed hoodie soft against her cheek as she leaned against the window. Elvis drove, one hand on the wheel, the other nursing a thermal mug that promised strong coffee. Gage rode shotgun, tapping at his phone, occasionally glancing at the rearview mirror to check on her.
