Chapter 23 - Forty-Eight Hours to Save a Ghost
The deadline changed everything.
Not because I intended to surrender to the criminals' demands.
But because I knew what forty-eight hours could mean to someone held captive.
It meant two nights without knowing whether morning would arrive.
Two days listening for footsteps.
Two days wondering whether anyone was coming.
Nathan Cole had already endured eighteen months of uncertainty.
I couldn't imagine what another forty-eight hours felt like.
Commander Whitcomb coordinated with the investigative teams pursuing the location lead.
I was ordered to remain away from operational decisions concerning any potential rescue.
I accepted that order.
Then spent the next six hours helping review authorized historical details about Nathan's service that might assist the investigators.
His medical history.
His former assignments.
Known associates.
Anything relevant that could be lawfully shared.
Ethan stayed beside me as long as he was permitted.
At dawn, we returned home.
I hadn't slept.
He made coffee while I stood in the kitchen staring at the harbor beyond our windows.
"You look exhausted," he said.
"I am."
"Then sit down."
I almost argued.
Instead, I sat.
He placed a mug in front of me.
"Talk to me."
I looked at him.
"About what?"
"What you're thinking."
I stared into the coffee.
"I'm thinking that Nathan might die because someone thinks they can control me."
Ethan sat opposite me.
"You're not responsible for what those people choose to do."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I looked up.
He wasn't accusing me.
He was asking me to be honest.
I exhaled.
"I keep replaying the mission."
"The extraction?"
I nodded.
"Every decision. Every heading change. Every warning tone."
"Did you do everything you could?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you blaming yourself?"
"Because I came home."
Ethan reached across the table.
"And Nathan didn't."
I closed my eyes.
"Not then."
He squeezed my hand.
"You're still allowed to come home, Avery."
The tears came before I could stop them.
For months, I'd carried the guilt quietly.
The awards had made it worse.
Every public compliment felt like a reminder that someone else hadn't received a medal.
Someone else hadn't stepped off the aircraft.
Someone else hadn't made it home to the people who loved him.
Ethan moved beside me and held me until the shaking stopped.
Then my phone rang.
Whitcomb.
"We've located a property associated with the lead."
I sat up.
"Is Nathan there?"
"We can't confirm that yet."
"Can I help?"
"Not operationally. But investigators need you to verify something."
"What?"
"A recording includes a voice claiming to be Nathan's. We need to know whether you recognize a phrase he uses."
She played a short authorized excerpt.
A man's voice whispered:
"Tell Valkyrie the last light is still burning."
My throat tightened.
"I recognize the phrase."
"What does it mean?"
"It was something Nathan said after we lost communications during the extraction."
"Can you explain?"
"He told the team that as long as one light remained visible, there was still a way home."
Whitcomb paused.
"Could it be a recognition signal?"
"Yes."
She thanked me and ended the call.
Hours passed.
Ethan and I waited.
Richard called once.
I expected another apology.
Instead, he said, "If you need anything, anything at all, please tell us."
It was the first time he'd offered help without attaching a condition.
Ethan thanked him.
At three in the afternoon, Whitcomb called again.
The response teams had entered the property.
Several suspects were detained.
Medical personnel were on-site.
I held my breath.
"And Nathan?"
There was a pause.
"He's alive."
My knees weakened.
Ethan caught me before I fell.
"He's alive?" I repeated.
"Yes. He's receiving medical treatment. We don't have a full assessment yet."
I began crying.
Not quietly.
Not with military composure.
I cried with eighteen months of grief breaking open inside my chest.
Ethan wrapped his arms around me.
But Whitcomb wasn't finished.
"Avery, there's another development."
I wiped my face.
"What?"
"Investigators recovered documents from the property. Some may concern the mission compromise."
"Who was running the place?"
"Several individuals are being questioned."
She hesitated.
"One of them identified a person they claim supervised the entire operation."
"Who?"
May you like
Whitcomb's voice turned grave.
"Vice Admiral Jonathan Pierce."
