Chapter 3 - The Woman From the Dead
Jacob woke at three in the morning.
No monitors were screaming.
No doctors crowded the room.
Only Claire remained.
She sat beside the window with her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor.
His blood pressure had returned to safer levels after doctors discovered a severe autonomic complication related to his spinal injury.
Claire had been right.
Sedation could have hidden the symptoms while his condition worsened.
She may have saved his life.
Again.
Jacob watched her.
“You were there.”
Claire looked up.
He didn’t need to explain.
She stood slowly.
“You need rest.”
“Don't nurse me.”
“I am literally your nurse.”
“You know what I mean.”
Silence.
Jacob extended his hand.
“Watch.”
Claire’s fingers moved protectively toward it.
“Jacob—”
“Take it off.”
This time she did.
Underneath was a tattoo.
Latitude.
Longitude.
And beneath the coordinates, almost hidden against her skin, one word:
Ethan.
Jacob closed his eyes.
Memory struck violently.
A communications specialist kneeling beside a satellite unit.
A grin.
A joke about terrible coffee.
Ethan Donovan.
Then another face.
Young woman.
Dark blond hair pulled tight beneath a field cap.
Blood across one cheek.
Calling him—
Ghost.
Jacob opened his eyes.
“You were intelligence.”
Claire nodded.
“Attached medical liaison.”
“Name?”
“Claire Mercer then.”
He remembered.
Lieutenant Claire Mercer.
Twenty-three years old.
Brilliant.
Stubborn.
Always arguing with him.
“You died.”
“So did you.”
“What?”
“Your team was listed missing for almost forty-eight hours. My name appeared on an internal casualty list after the evacuation because records were confused.”
Jacob stared at her.
“Why didn’t you find me?”
Her expression tightened.
“I tried.”
“Eleven years?”
“You think I didn't?”
His voice rose.
“Eleven years, Claire.”
The guards outside looked toward the door.
She lowered her voice.
“I was told you wanted nothing to do with survivors.”
“Who told you that?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation answered enough.
Jacob gripped the wheelchair arms.
“Who?”
“Colonel Adrian Voss.”
Jacob’s blood turned cold.
Voss.
Former special operations liaison.
Now deputy director of a major federal security agency.
Public hero.
Political favorite.
And one of the men who had blamed Jacob for Black Lantern.
Claire continued.
“He said you accepted responsibility for the intelligence failure.”
“I never did.”
“I know that now.”
“You believed him?”
“For three months.”
Jacob looked away.
Claire approached.
“Then I found Ethan’s encrypted drive.”
Jacob turned back.
“What drive?”
“The night before the mission, Ethan copied operational packets because something looked wrong. He discovered the coordinates given to your team had been altered seventeen minutes before deployment.”
Jacob went still.
“Altered by who?”
“I couldn't prove that then.”
“And now?”
Claire’s eyes met his.
“Voss authorized the change.”
Jacob felt the room narrowing.
The explosion.
His dead men.
His ruined body.
Eleven years believing he had missed something.
One mistake.
One order.
One consequence.
“You have proof?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Claire.”
“If I give it to you tonight, what will you do?”
“Handle it.”
“Exactly why I’m not giving it to you.”
Jacob laughed without humor.
“You walk into my room after eleven years carrying proof that someone murdered my team, and you expect restraint?”
“I expect intelligence.”
“He killed Ethan.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Yes.”
That stopped him.
Claire’s voice trembled now.
“You think you're the only one who lost someone?”
Jacob said nothing.
“I buried an empty coffin because parts of my brother were never recovered. My mother stopped sleeping. My father started drinking. I spent eleven years wondering why Ethan died.”
Tears formed but did not fall.
“And every time I wanted revenge, I remembered what Ethan told me.”
Jacob’s voice softened.
“What?”
Claire looked at him.
“Don't blame Ghost.”
The words hit harder than any bullet.
Jacob lowered his head.
For years he had believed Ethan died hating him.
Claire continued.
“He knew you tried to save them.”
Jacob clenched his jaw.
“I failed.”
“You crawled back toward a burning building with a broken spine.”
“I left men behind.”
“You were dragged onto the helicopter unconscious.”
He looked at her sharply.
“You remember?”
“I was there.”
And suddenly another memory returned.
Claire screaming.
Jacob unable to move his legs.
Her hands pressing against his chest.
Stay awake, Ghost.
He remembered telling her to leave him.
She refused.
“You saved me,” he whispered.
Claire shook her head.
“We saved each other.”
Outside the room, footsteps approached.
Mateo entered.
“Boss.”
Jacob saw his expression.
“What?”
Mateo handed him a tablet.
Someone had accessed Claire’s personnel records two hours earlier.
Not hospital administrators.
An outside server.
Jacob looked at Claire.
“Who knows you're here?”
“Nobody.”
“Apparently somebody does.”
Her face tightened.
Mateo continued.
“A man was asking about Nurse Donovan downstairs.”
“Who?”
“Left before security reached him.”
Jacob’s entire demeanor changed.
The patient disappeared.
The commander returned.
“Lock the floor.”
Claire stared.
“Jacob, this is a hospital.”
“Tonight it’s my hospital.”
“You can't—”
“Mateo.”
“Already done.”
Claire shook her head.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
“What?”
“You deciding force solves everything.”
Jacob looked at her.
“And hiding solved what?”
The words hurt because they were partly true.
Claire stepped toward the door.
Jacob blocked her path with the wheelchair.
“Move.”
“No.”
“You don't own me.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn't say I did.”
“You're acting like it.”
“Someone is looking for you.”
“I have survived people looking for me before.”
“I remember.”
Their eyes locked.
For a moment the hospital room disappeared.
They were young again.
Alive in a place they should have died.
Jacob spoke more quietly.
“I lost you once.”
Claire’s anger faltered.
He continued.
“I’m not doing it twice.”
Before she could respond, the power flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then half the private wing went dark.
Emergency lights turned red.
Mateo reached beneath his jacket.
Jacob’s guards moved.
Claire heard glass breaking somewhere down the corridor.
Then footsteps.
Fast.
Coming closer.
Jacob looked at Claire.
“Behind me.”
She almost laughed.
“You're in a wheelchair.”
His expression remained deadly serious.
“Claire.”
May you like
The door handle moved.
And whoever stood outside had not come for a medical consultation.
