Chapter Ten: If I Could Tell Her (Sterling's POV)

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"My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on the limb,
And all I remember is thinking I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done"

- Gnarls Barkley, "Crazy"

Chapter Ten

"Pack it up. Rolling in five," I barked at the team.

Two fortified SUVs sat on the curb as Delta team hurried around, securing files and loading the vehicles. The less trips made, the better. Men were shouting out orders, getting things done in coordinated chaos; it was taking us too long, but civilians needed to be cleared. My team was trained. They moved with precision, second nature kicking in as they secured the vehicles and our person of interest.

If someone had doubted Greystone before last Friday, I would've gotten a kick out of it. I wasn't so sure. My fears had been confirmed when that gun went off — something had changed in Greystone, and it was affecting our work.

It starts at the top and trickles down. Am I doing something wrong? Because there has to be faith in the leader, that's the only way teams like this work.

"Argentum, Peacock is in flight. Alpha and Bravo accompanying. Fifteen out," a deep voice spoke in my earpiece. I recognized it as the head of Bravo team.

"Confirmed."

Mr. and Mrs. Cruz were being brought to Greystone for the time being. Our home building was the most secure place they could be at the moment, considering the hotel and office were compromised.

To say I was pissed would be an understatement.

I'd hand trained my team, pushing each to their limits every day to get the job done. Yet, despite having a constant presence at both locations, someone had managed to tail those under our protection.

I'd organized the parking garage at the hotel to have my team scattered throughout for all hours of the day, yet photos of Avery walking to her car burned in my mind as I watched my team. I'd had security in the hotel lobby that kept eyes on her when she walked her dog — there were photos of that, too. I'd had that office building covered in cameras and personnel, so I'd know what happened on every square inch. I'd known when someone sneezed, when someone fell asleep on the job, when an employee took a smoke break. And even still, someone had managed to take photos of Cruz talking in the lobby, and photos of Avery as she came and went.

God, Avery.

In every photo the creep had taken of her, she'd looked on edge. A tinge of fear in her pale green eyes, anxiety clouding her face in every single one, no matter what angle the photo was taken in. The photos showed her nervously looking around as she walked, her checking the locks of her car when getting in. She'd looked scared for her life, and we hadn't even been able to stop someone from taking photos. Guilt was starting to grow like a bubble in my chest. I should've done more, should've checked in on the team every hour, should've made sure the team was in position at all times. Something more.

They were stalking her, and they'd sent the photos to prove it. Mr. Romano was holding firm they were targeting her to get to her boss, but something told me there was more to it than just indirect attention. There was a nagging feeling in my gut I couldn't seem to get rid of, some instinctual doubt that made me reconsider. There were more photos of her than Mr. Cruz. Sure, he hadn't left the office building as much, and there'd only been limited photo opportunities of him — but they'd delivered the photos to make a point. To taunt us, tell us they thought they were better, smarter than any security measures we'd put in place, and rub it in our faces they'd gotten the upper hand.

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