Mitch
I let her go into the room by herself. I stood outside the heavy doors next to the security detail, keeping watch and waiting for her.
Ghost had taken her sister, Elena, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her that yet. I had gotten the call from Kennedy a couple of minutes after Lauren dozed off in the car. After reading through the sheer amount of loss in her file, I could relate. For once in my life, I just didn't want someone to be scared.
"You've got this," I had told her right before she stepped inside.
A faint, fleeting smile had appeared on her face. Before she closed the door, she threw my own words back at me. "Don't let things get personal, Rapp." Then the heavy door clicked shut.
I hadn't let it get personal. At least, not until I read the rest of her file during the drive.
After her parents and baby brother were killed in a shooting, she had thrown herself into training, desperate to join the FBI and stop serious threats—only to fall victim all over again to her own boyfriend, Brandon. I had lost the love of my life to terrorists. The exact same cell that Ghost was currently trying to contact to sell advanced weaponry. For the first time in years, a tight knot of nervousness twisted in my chest. I hadn't felt this way in a long time.
The door clicked open and Lauren stepped out, her face tight with concern. But the second she saw me, she masked it.
"I'm good," she said, giving me a nonchalant thumbs-up.
"I'm taking you to a safehouse now," I informed her, my voice returning to its rigid, professional cadence. "Your aunt and Elena have already been moved to a safer town under new aliases."
"What about me?"
"You're going a town over. You need to keep your close friends around to avoid suspicion. Your texts, calls, and location will be tracked by the Agency, but you'll use this." I pulled a clean iPhone from my jacket pocket and handed it to her. "My number is programmed in, along with Stan and Irene. They were part of the group you just talked to inside. They're with us."
Lauren took the phone, weighing it in her hand. "They mentioned I'm getting a new car... and that you're living in the house with me?"
"Yes. As far as the neighborhood is concerned, I'm your new boyfriend." I nodded, stepping past her to open the passenger door of the SUV.
She paused, a familiar, playful spark returning to her eyes. "Wow, really? Look at you moving fast. Not even a first date first?"
"Standard protocol," I muttered.
But as I shut her door, I felt an unfamiliar warmth rise to my face. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Catching myself, my expression instantly straightened, the smile dropping as I cleared my throat. I broke into a quick jog around to the driver's side before she could see it.
### Lauren
I didn't know when I'd see Elena again. *It's okay,* I told myself. *She'll be safe far away from me.* My aunt was pretty badass anyway; she'd keep her protected.
The drive from the facility wasn't long, only about an hour or so away. We eventually pulled into a quiet, suburban neighborhood lined with nice, middle-class houses. Having lived in a mobile home my entire life, this manicured, perfect way of living felt completely foreign to me. Terrifyingly so.
"You okay?" Mitch asked, his eyes cutting over to me.
"Peachy." I pulled my feet up onto the leather seat, wrapping my arms around my legs to hug my knees to my chest.
We pulled into the driveway of a light gray single-family home. It had a neat garage, a front yard trimmed with bushes and blooming flowers, and a backyard I couldn't see yet. The passenger door opened, and Mitch was suddenly there. The words coming out of his mouth sounded muddled, like I was underwater, as I stared blankly at the house.
"—Lauren. There's only one bedroom set delivered right now," he was saying, jingling the house keys in his hand. I forced myself out of the car and followed him up to the front door. "I'll take the floor until the living room couch ships in."
"No, it's okay," I murmured, my usual defensive walls slipping. "Just sleep with me."
Mitch paused at the door, glancing down at me. "Wow. Before a first date?"
He was trying to joke. He could clearly see how off I was, how the weight of whatever happened in that briefing room was crushing me. But the humor fell entirely flat.
"I'm sorry," my voice whispered out, sounding entirely too weak.
"It's okay," he said softly. His hand settled against the small of my back, guiding me gently through the front door and down the hall. He opened the door to the master bedroom. "Lay down and get some rest. I'll be right out here if you need anything."
My eyes focused on him, the sterile walls of the house blurring around the edges. My heart rate began to plummet into a heavy, sickening drag.
"Thank you," I breathed.
Turning to face him completely, I took a step forward and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. For a second, he froze. Then, slowly, his large hand came up to pat my back, the entire concept of a comforting embrace clearly being something foreign to a guy like him.
*Thank you, Mitch. But I'm sorry.*
I couldn't just stay here. I couldn't sit in the quiet and let my mind eat itself alive. I needed to go out, find a bar, drink—do anything to distract myself from the suffocating reality of my life. Sure, he was a trained CIA assassin, but would it really be that hard to sneak past him? I just needed a temporary escape.
I hated this feeling. The world blurring around me, my eyes frantically searching the dark room for something, anything, to focus on. The walls felt like they were actively closing in on me.
Just like that, my life was gone again.
