Jackson nodded but didn’t speak, his attention fixed on the screen. The footage showed the moment he and Avery had come out of the garage, his SUV pulling into view. They could both see themselves for a brief second before the screen flared white.
The first blast hit.
Avery flinched even though she knew what was coming. Smoke and debris filled the frame, and the camera jerked before stabilizing again. The fire spread fast, engulfing the roof and spilling out in a wave of heat and light.
Jackson cursed under his breath. He rewound the footage and watched again, slowing it frame by frame. “There,” he said, pointing toward a blur of movement behind a line of trees. “That’s where it came from.”
Avery squinted, but she couldn’t make out anything more than shadows and branches swaying from the blast. “Can you see who it was?”
“No.” His tone was sharp, frustrated. “They stayed behind cover. Smart. They knew exactly where to hide from the cameras.”
The screen flickered again, looping through smoke and fire.
Avery swallowed hard, her pulse thudding in her ears. Whoever had fired that grenade hadn’t left a trace.
They’d planned it that way.
Jackson sat back in the chair, his jaw tight. The light from the laptop cast hard shadows across his face. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, silent for a long moment, the frustration rolling off him.
“They knew where to hit,” he said finally. “They planned it. But the footage doesn’t show them. Not one damn frame.”
Avery stayed quiet. There was nothing to say. The screen kept replaying the blast, the fire, the smoke, over and over like a cruel reminder of how close they’d come.
After a moment, Jackson reached over and shut the laptop. He stared at the blank screen, then seemed to pull himself together, his tone softening. “You should grab a shower,” he said. “You’ve been through hell, and you’re covered in dirt.”
She glanced down at herself. Her jeans were torn at the knees, her shirt streaked with ash and dust. The smell of smoke still clung to her skin.
“There are clean towels in the bathroom,” he said. “And you can grab something from the closet to wear while you wash your clothes. There should be a few shirts and sweats in there that’ll work.”
Avery hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Go ahead.”
She pushed back her chair and started to stand, already imagining the feel of hot water washing away the last few hours, when Jackson’s phone rang. The sharp sound froze her in place.
He took the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s Noah,” he let her know a split-second before he answered it on speaker.
Noah’s voice came through, tight and urgent. “Jackson, we found the source of the leak.”
Avery’s stomach dropped. She gripped the back of the chair.
“It wasn’t WITSEC,” Noah continued. “The breach came from her podcast. Her boss, Warren Sinclair. He’s the one who leaked Avery’s identity.”
The room seemed to go still. Avery felt the air leave her lungs, the words settling heavy in her chest.
Warren.
Her voice came out barely a whisper. “He sold me out.”
Chapter Five
The microwave beeped, breaking the heavy quiet that had settled between them. Jackson pulled out two frozen meals, steam rising as he peeled the plastic back. It wasn’t gourmet, but it would keep them from going hungry.
He slid one across the small table to Avery, who sat with her hair still damp from her shower, wearing one of his old T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were too long on her.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
He nodded and picked up his fork. The first bite tasted like salt and cardboard, but he didn’t care. It was food. It was something normal, and normal felt like a luxury after the day they’d had.