Mack said nothing. He’d defended himself over and over to her. Showed her the evidence. Showed her father, too— Colonel Bennett, a retired Marine who’d chosen to believe his son over the man engaged to his daughter. The Colonel had friends in high places and his influence had led to Mack’s evidence being discredited. To Morrison’s death being pinned on him, not Blake.
More silence, but he could see Alyssa’s mind still working. She touched her scar. “He always says he wants to protect me, but he doesn’t want to protect me,” she said quietly. “He wants me to protect him. That’s how it’s always been. You’re right—that’s what I’ve always done.”
There was a story behind that scar. One Mack had asked about, and Alyssa had always dodged. “You don’t have to anymore, Lyssa.”
She stood, processing, and Mack could see it happening in real time—the last thread of Blake-loyalty fraying.
Snapping.
It was painful to watch. Even knowing Blake deserved it, even knowing she needed to see it, watching her lose her brother was hard. And it came on the heels of losing her best friend.
Mack had lost people—most notably her. Alyssa was the only woman he’d ever loved. He knew what it felt like when someone you’d built your understanding of the world around turned out to be someone else entirely.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.
She looked up. “For what?”
“That he couldn’t be who you needed him to be.”
Her expression cracked. A wall coming down that had been holding her together and holding her separate at the same time.
“You chose me,” she said, walking up to him. She lifted her chin to stare him in the eye. “Last night at the party, you chose to help me even though you were undercover. You challenged that guy with tatts and saved me.”
“I’ve always chosen you.” The words came out before he could stop them. Simple. True. Too raw for the situation they were in, but damn it, he was saying them anyway. “That was never the question.”
The space between them collapsed. He could see the exact color of her eyes, could count the freckles across her nose.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “for two years ago. For not believing you. For choosing him. If what you say is true…”
He saw her throat work. The realization that Blake had not only cost Mack his career in the Marines but had torn him and Alyssa apart was too much for her to take in on top of everything else.
He took a step back because if he didn’t, if she kept talking, if she said everything he’d wanted to hear for two years while she was standing this close and looking at him like that, he wouldn’t be able to think. Wouldn’t be able to do his job. “We need to talk about it, Lyssa, but not now.”
Her eyes dimmed at his stepping away. Then her face set in resolve, and she followed him, invading his personal space. Her finger poked him in the chest. “Fine, but we will talk about it when this is over.”
If he leaned down, if she rose up, if either of them closed that gap?—
The sat phone rang.
They both stepped back, the moment broken.
Mack swallowed before he grabbed the phone. Blew out a breath. “Yes?”
“I need her today,” Claire said without any preamble. “The roads to my office here are open. Not totally clear, but traffic is moving. I know it’s not what you want, but it’s what we need. Get here as soon as you can.”
“I’ll call you back.” He ended the call before she could respond.
Alyssa frowned. “What is it?”
“The FBI wants you to come to their Missoula office now,” he said. “I can take you, or we can wait until the safe house is ready, which won’t be until tomorrow night. It’s your call.”
She raised a brow. “You’re letting me decide?”
“It’s your life.”
She studied his face, his rigid posture. “You think I should wait.”
Every instinct he had said so. “I can control the security here, where the only variables are ones I’ve already accounted for. Moving you means exposure, risk, and a hundred things that could go wrong.” His worst nightmare. “The safe house is the better option,” he said honestly, “but the timing is worse since it won’t be ready for another day.”