by India Kells
“What are you thinking about, Dylan?” Mac’s voice with her Scottish accent, which gave her a particular lilt, made her smile.
“I was thinking about what happens now. For Purgatory, I mean. It’s unlikely that the Counterterrorism Team will let you off the hook, even if I appear as dead. You’ll all be under scrutiny. You’ll all have to prove that you didn’t know who I was and what I did.”
Beatrice put her wine glass on the table. “Purgatory will be under investigation. But nothing we can’t deal with. I fear more for our men, though. They may work for us occasionally, but their affiliation will put them in a delicate situation.”
“That’s what the Admiral said?” Gabrielle frowned, running her hand in her blonde hair constantly twisted by the wind.
“I’m not surprised.” Mac leaned back on her chair, her eyes looking through the windows. “Wes hadn’t say a word about it, focusing on his training and him returning to the SEALs, but I know he took steps. As if he was preparing for something. I thought at first it was in case he was refused by the doctors, denied his return to active duty. I may have misinterpreted it.”
“I must be more than dead in the eyes of the world. I need to disappear.” Dylan glanced at astonished faces around the table. “I’m not talking about sacrifice here, but logic, hear me out. You will all naturally try to protect me, but you will all be under surveillance, in one way or another. The men even more than you. And Owen the worst of all. If I stay around, I’ll be a liability. I need to disappear. To stay away until everything settles down again. For good.”
They looked at each other, and as everyone remained silent, Dylan knew that was the way to go. Nobody liked her solution, but it was undeniably the best one.
Leaning closer, Beatrice grasped her hand. “What are you going to do?”
Dylan took a deep breath, and turned her head, seeing Owen laughing with his brothers in the kitchen.
“I’m not going to tell you. You’ll be in trouble with your husbands enough as it is. When are you all leaving?”
“We were talking about tonight. After dinner. The jet is prepped. We need to prepare for any possible investigation. Put Purgatory back online. Our disbanded team needs to be notified and debriefed.”
Dylan nodded, her plan forming in her head. “Find a way for Owen to follow you to the airstrip. Those two hours there and back are all I need.”
“Are you well enough?” Gabrielle scooted closer, concern in her blue eyes.
“I’ve lived through worse, but yes. I feel well enough to travel.”
Always practical, the mission leader of Purgatory nodded. “In my room, in the closet, there is a trap under the carpet. There, you’ll find a couple of things you may need.”
“How long will you be gone?” Mac shook her head, her mouth grim.
“I don’t know; I’ll keep my ear to the ground. When the investigation is over and the dust has settled down, I’ll know. I’ll come back.”
Beatrice stared at her, long and hard. “We’ll take care of Owen the best we can while you’re gone. But he may not forgive you for what you’re about to do. It may be one sacrifice too many.”
“Dylan is dead. Owen needs to live. If we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other. I have to hope for that.”
Beatrice raised her glass at Dylan, Gabrielle, and Mac did the same.
“To my courageous daughters, and to one of them who will walk a lonely path. Know that we will be here for you when you come back.”
Dylan clinked her glass to each of her friends.
“To the most amazing women I know, my gratitude and love. Be careful, as I won’t be there watching your backs for a while.”
As they drank, Sully came to announce that dinner was ready.
The most difficult part for Dylan was to act as normal as possible, without raising suspicions. Yet she couldn’t help but touch Owen, every time she could. A deep desperation was digging into her soul, as it was the last time she would be with him.
As the evening came to an end, and everybody said their good-byes, Dylan hugged each of them as if they would see each other the following day. Gabrielle told her again that she was welcome in her house for as long as she needed it, but in her eyes, she knew the truth.
Owen twirled the keys in his hands as everyone went outside.
“I’ll just go to the airport and back. Two hours max, maybe less.”
Dylan forced herself to smile. “Are you in a hurry, Sorenson?”
The SEAL took her in her arms, and she felt so small, so fragile against him, but also precious. She pushed back, instead cupping his face, running her fingers through his beard, memorizing every line etched on his face, every hue of his irises. “I love you, Owen. And I don’t know if you’ll ever know how much.” And before he could say a word, she kissed him. She poured all of her—her desire, her longing, her hopes, her fears, and most of all her love for this man—into this last connection. His arms came around her, one hand snaked along her spine to tangle in her hair. When he broke the kiss, he didn’t let her go yet, holding her in his arms a while longer, taking in the scent of her hair, as he did often. Her heart squeezed so painfully, she thought it might never beat again, but she willed her tears to wait until he was gone to flow.
Stepping back, Owen kissed her forehead. “Go to bed and sleep. I’ll be back before you know it, my love. My Dylan.”
He winked at her as he closed the door and he was gone.
Dylan stayed immobile until she couldn’t hear the cars anymore. It would have been easy to break down right in front of the door, but she willed her feet to move.
Gathering what was necessary, she took the minimum necessities from Gabrielle. Ready to leave, Dylan took a piece of paper and started to write. It was the last words she would be able to say to Owen for a while.
My dear Owen,
When you read this letter, I’ll be long gone. I’m so sorry to have tricked you. I never meant to bring you pain. You’re the last human being on this planet I want to hurt. I’m so much like you, I have this instinct of protecting the people I love, so imagine what I feel when I want to protect you.
Even if Dogberry is gone, the repercussions will be great. They will try to find faults in Purgatory, in Sullivan, and your brothers. And in you. And I won’t be able to protect you from it. Especially if I remain close by. If only they knew the courage and dedication in your heart, they would bow to you. But humans are flawed and will see you as such. They will think you helped a terrorist and that would jeopardize your life, your career, and maybe even your family.
This is not a sacrifice, my love. This is me protecting you, and Purgatory. I need to go to ground, and if I would have told you of my plan, you would have followed me, making you a suspect, maybe even an accomplice. I couldn’t allow you to do that. You’re an honorable man, you served your country with such selflessness, I won’t provide an opportunity for twisted minds to sully your name.
I’m asking you to wait for me. Maybe I’m asking for too much. I’m certainly asking too much. You have the right to curse my name, to be angry at me, to hate me, to never want to see my face again. And if you cannot find a way in your soul to forgive me, know that I will still love you forever. I can’t help what’s engraved in every cell of my heart. I was given a second chance to live, I want that new life to be with you.
But I won’t go against your will, ever. When we see each other again, whenever that may be, I will abide by your decision.
Be safe and take care of your family. Find happiness wherever it may be and know that I love you.
And for the last time,
Yours forever,
Dylan Harris
Epilogue
One year later … San Diego Airport
Panic rose inside of her with every step she took. And it was an emotion she wasn’t used to anymore. It took all her control not to run out of the plane as soon as it arrived at their gate.
Using calming techniques sh
e had honed over and over again, Dylan paced herself, the steps she took, the movements she made as she retrieved her carry-on, and even managed to smile at the stewardess when she exited the plane.
Not only would it bring attention on her, but panic would considerably slow down her progress. Again, she kept her body and mind in check, consciously slowing down her heartbeat as she arrived at the customs and waited for her turn.
Since she left Owen a year ago, it would be the first time she tested her new identity on US soil. She wasn’t too worried; an entire year allowed her to create a completely new identity, filling every possible crack about her past. Her new persona was ready for it. It was the old Dylan who wasn’t sure if she was.
Waiting at the US Customs, an agent gestured in her direction, and she gave her passport.
“Adelia Hamilton. You’re returning home. How long have you been gone?”
“One year.”
“For work?”
“A little, but mostly I was on vacation.”
“A long vacation.”
“I needed a long time to take care of my health. I was in poor condition when I left.”
The man looked at her picture again and then at her. “Shorter hair, paler too. And you seem to have gained back your health.”
Two months ago, she had shortened her long brown hair so it waved a little past her shoulder, giving it more volume. And just for fun, she highlighted it with a golden honey hue. The lighter tone with her tanned skin gave her a newfound glow. But she knew that her inner peace was due to more than just time in the sun.
“Yeah, do I need to take another picture? Is the change too drastic?”
For the first time, the man smiled. “No, ma’am. You look beautiful, don’t change a thing. I think that vacation did you good.”
Dylan blinked at the compliment and smiled as the agent handed her passport back to her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he winked at her as she turned around.
In a haze, she followed the indication for car rentals and filled the papers like a robot, before taking the key. She only realized she was behind the wheel two miles after leaving the airport.
It was night, and Dylan checked the dash clock to see that it was closer to midnight than she expected. Up until now, time had passed slowly. And the more she hurried, the more she wanted to get to her destination, the more she felt like moving against thick molasses. Her heart started racing again and her vision blurred enough, forcing her to stop the car. Luckily, through the haze, she saw a gas station close by.
Parking, she got out of the vehicle, breathing gulps of air. She shouldn’t have left; she shouldn’t have left him. If she would have stayed, he wouldn’t be …
Dylan forced herself to breathe deep again. Her logical mind knew that the decision she had made a year past was the best. In her letter, she wanted him to be happy, and she knew well that being on mission was part of who was Owen Sorenson. First a protector, then a SEAL, and after that, a shadow operator. He wouldn’t have remained in that house by the sea, waiting for her. And in his job, there were risks.
She didn’t want to think about the risks. Living was a risk.
Calmer, Dylan got back behind the wheel and merged onto traffic again. Owen was alive. That’s what she should focus on. The Navy Medical Center was close now. She had accessed his file and saw as of three hours ago, that his vitals were stable, but he was still in a deep coma. Just imagining Owen, his golden protector, lying in that hospital bed, his blue eyes closed, his body unmoving, made her want to scream in despair.
Since she had taken another name and fled the country, it was impossible for her to shut everybody out. If she couldn’t be with her family, she could be their invisible angel, keeping an eye on them. That’s when she saw him popping onto the screen, as he signed papers to return into active duty. A one-year contract, under the supervision of Admiral Feander. God bless small mercies.
But being a Navy SEAL, even a mighty one like Owen, wasn’t risk-free. Far from it. Every time she hacked into his mission orders, she prayed for him to be safe. And every time he returned unharmed, she collapsed in relief.
Day after day, she observed and waited from afar as Beatrice and Gabrielle were questioned by authorities about their ties with Dogberry. She knew the Sorenson brothers were on watch, and on a tight leash due to their link to Admiral Feander who was the husband of Beatrice. It tore her apart that she was the cause of all this, but the only way she could help them was to remain invisible, which she did, bidding her time.
Six months after leaving, the noose relaxed a little, but she was prudent enough not to reappear then. It might have been a trap. As Dogberry and Dylan Harris remained dead, the world continued to turn, and more important threats other than a dead hacker distracted the authorities. Purgatory was cleared of all terrorism charges, and was stronger than ever.
Still, Dylan waited—desperate to come back, but not enough to risk her friends or Owen. She waited until yesterday, until one of her alerts beeped and she found out about Owen being severely wounded in a mission. She couldn’t access more information than his medical records. It would have required more time, and she decided that going to Owen was her sole priority. And the greatest fear in her heart was for her to arrive by his bedside too late.
Parking in the hospital parking lot, she grabbed her bag and entered. Another perk of the flight was that she had the time to put her name on the list of authorized visitors. When she came through the sliding door, it took only a moment for her name to be cleared and the guard to tell her Owen’s room number.
As she walked through the dimmed corridors, there was barely a sound. She saw men in uniforms, nurses, and doctors go by, but everything was so calm. Owen’s room was at the other end of the hospital, in a separate ward. Many rooms seemed empty as she passed by and there was nobody at the nurses’ station. Good, it would be easier to get to him, fewer questions.
Silently, Dylan hurried to the last room on the left. When she entered, the curtains on his windows were drawn back, the moon almost full, shedding light in darkness. And there he was. On the hospital bed, surrounded by too many machines to count. They beeped and they shushed in a constant rhythm as Owen lay there, tubed and immobile.
All the tears she had kept in check almost prevented her from breathing. Ever so slowly, she came to his side, his heart beating through the machines, steady. Too steady.
Her eyes looked at his face. He had kept his beard and it almost made her smile. There was a bandage on his temple, so white against his tanned skin. One hand was on top of the covers. She took it between hers, mindful of the perfusion, before sitting beside him.
“Owen, it’s me, Dylan.” She murmured the words so only he could hear. “Well, I’m not called that anymore. I chose Adelia as my name now. Adelia Hamilton. As a first name, it was the one that kept popping in my mind. And I picked up the last name just before I left the country. I think I saw it on a truck. To be honest, I didn’t really care.”
Tears started to fall, but she forced her voice to remain strong, and even to smile a little, for his sake. “I knew you were busy while I was gone. So was I. I traveled a bit, but I mostly worked on myself. I couldn’t let the nightmares, Knudson, and Miranda lead the rest of my life. I couldn’t let my doubts drown me. I sought help, you know, and I worked hard. Part of me hoped to make you proud.”
She traced a scar etched near his thumb, ignoring the tear that plopped on his skin. “I always wanted to come back, Owen. I wanted to come back the moment I left Gabrielle’s house. And I was so scared that you wouldn’t understand what I was trying to do. That you would put yourself in danger by following me. I remember too well how you protected your mother from your father and it haunted me. I wanted to do better, I wanted you safe. And of course, I knew you would go back to work, and the risks I feared came through. You got hurt. Damn you!”
The love of her life remained stubbornly still on his bed.
“Owen, you have to wake up! I can’t
bear to see you like this. You cannot die, it’s impossible. If you die, I will die, too, because you’re now the only reason I truly want to live.”
She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, but the tears were now pouring ceaselessly. “You see, I was imagining me, coming back, surprising you at a BBQ, at your mother’s maybe. You would see me, and we would have leapt at each other, unable to remain apart any longer. You would have forgiven me. And I would have been the one to drop on one knee and ask you to marry me. How silly is that?”
As his body remained immobile, Dylan found it more and more difficult to breathe. No amount of torture and mind games from Knudson, Miranda, or Morton would stop her from reliving every single second of pain if it meant Owen would open his eyes again.
The door clicked behind her, closing. As she turned, distracted, two strong arms grabbed her, and with tubes and lines flying, Dylan was flat on her back, on the hospital bed, with Owen plastering her entire body with his own.
