He kept his eyes on the landscape outside the window. At least six inches, possibly more, had fallen. “I know.”
“You’re going to tell her this morning.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
He ended the call and stood with his back to Alyssa long enough to organize the words. Long enough to decide he wasn’t going to do this standing up, wasn’t going to deliver this the way he’d delivered notifications in the field. He owed her more than that.
He turned and found her watching him. Her hands had tightened around the mug, and he recognized the expression on her face. She was bracing for something.
She’d always braced like that when she knew bad news was coming. Chin up, spine straight, like good posture was armor.
He crossed to the table and sat, meeting her eyes. “Lyss.” His voice came out rough.
Her chin lifted slightly, then fell almost as quickly. She was ready. She wasn’t ready.
Neither was he.
“I need to tell you something.” He held her gaze. Didn’t let himself look away. He wanted to take her hand. Squeeze it. He didn’t. “It’s about Jenna.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It’s about Jenna.
The words hung in the air between them, and time did something strange—stretched and compressed simultaneously, like the moment before impact when your body knows what’s coming but your mind hasn’t caught up yet.
Alyssa’s hands tightened around the coffee mug. The ceramic was warm, solid, real. She focused on that. On the physical thing she could hold while the rest of the world tilted sideways.
It’s about Jenna could mean so many things. Jenna was in trouble. Jenna was scared. Jenna had called the police, had gotten the message, had locked herself in the bathroom, and was waiting for someone to tell her it was safe to come out.
Jenna was in the hospital.
Jenna was?—
Alyssa looked at Mack’s face and saw something she’d never seen before. Not in all their time together. Not even when he was deploying into places where people were actively trying to kill him.
He looked like he was about to break her.
And he knew it.
“Just say it,” she said. “Whatever it is, just say it so I can?—”
“There was an attack on your apartment early this morning.” His voice was steady, careful. “The cartel was looking for you. Jenna was there.”
A pause.
She would remember that pause for the rest of her life. The space between Jenna was there and what came next. The last second of the world where Jenna Lopez still existed in her understanding of reality.
“She didn’t make it.” Mack’s voice was quieter now. “I’m sorry, Lyss.”
The words landed without meaning.
She heard them—the sounds reached her ears, her brain processed the syllables—but they didn’t connect to anything. They were just noise. Random sounds Mack was making with his mouth.
She was looking at that mouth, watching it form shapes, and trying to rewind five seconds. Ten seconds. Back to before he’d said the words, when Jenna was still alive in her head, still annoyed about the cryptic voicemail, still planning to demand a full explanation in her next text.
“What?” Her voice sounded strange. Distant, like it was coming from someone else’s body. Not because she hadn’t heard him. Because the words didn’t make sense. Couldn’t make sense.