Shadows of Loyalty

Chapter 11

The safe house was tucked into the countryside, surrounded by thick trees and a gravel path that led to nowhere in particular. Isolated. Secure. Silent. Exactly what they needed.

Inside, the five of them sat around a rusted metal table in the main room, which smelled faintly of dust and old coffee. The overhead light flickered intermittently, casting long shadows over the cracked concrete floor.

Mason stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, frustration evident on her face.

"I’ve got nothing. No chatter, no pings on known channels, no anomalies in any of the regional comms. Whoever did this is either incredibly sophisticated or completely off-grid. Or both."

Gary leaned forward, his fingers interlocked tightly, eyes tense. "Langley hasn’t heard a whisper. If this was coordinated, it was internal. There’s no external digital footprint. That makes it harder to trace."

"Too clean," Mason muttered. "Too planned. We’re blind here. I’m digging, but it’s going to take time."

Calvin, seated with his legs crossed casually in the corner, removed his fedora and laid it on the table. His tone, however, was anything but casual.

"How well do you know your wife, Quinn?"

Quinn’s eyes snapped to him. The edge in his voice was unmistakable. "Excuse me?"

Calvin didn’t flinch. "It’s a simple question. You’ve been married for, what, three years now? How well do you really know her?"

Quinn straightened in his chair. "We’ve been through this already. Alicia has nothing to do with this."

Sasha, perched silently near the back wall, watched with narrowed eyes. She said nothing, but her gaze followed every twitch of Quinn’s jaw.

Calvin leaned forward. "Let’s talk about her family. Where are they? Have you met them?"

Quinn clenched his jaw. "They’re not on speaking terms. I don’t pry."

"She works at a daycare," Calvin said. "Spends her days surrounded by children. Yet she doesn’t want any of her own? Not even a maybe someday?"

Quinn’s fingers tapped against the table. "That’s personal. Not everyone wants kids."

"Sure," Calvin said smoothly. "But she doesn’t even talk about them. Then there’s the little things. Like how she always seems to be out running errands but leaves her purse at home."

"I—"

"And the way you two met. That’s a hell of a story, isn’t it?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "What’s your point?"

Calvin’s voice was calm, but there was a coldness to it. "You were in the middle of a mission, being hunted by two armed teams, had to make an extraction from a crowded market. You ducked into a taxi at the last second. And who was already in it? Alicia. Out of all the taxis in that city, all the blocks, all the timing — she just happened to jump into yours at the exact moment?"

Quinn looked away, jaw tightening.

"It was chaos. It could’ve been coincidence."

"You don’t believe in coincidence, Reeds. Not in this line of work."

Mason sat quietly for a moment.

Sasha finally spoke, her voice low, unreadable. "I’ve followed people for months who planned encounters like that down to the second. It’s not hard when you know someone’s route."

Quinn stood up, pacing now. The room was suffocating. Everyone was looking at him like he was the fool. Like he’d missed the biggest sign of his life.

"She’s my wife," he said, voice low. "I know her."

Calvin shrugged. "People see what they want to see. Especially when they’re sleeping next to it."

"You’re wrong," Quinn said. "She’s not capable of—"

"Of lying to you? Of hiding something?" Calvin raised a brow. "You, of all people, should know better."

Mason stood and placed a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. "We’re not accusing her yet. We’re just saying — keep your eyes open. If it isn’t her, great. But if it is… we need to be ready."

Quinn didn’t answer.

Because deep down, a part of him — the part that lived in shadows and read between lines — was beginning to wonder.

Quinn drove home in silence, the echoes of Calvin’s words refusing to quiet. He gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, his knuckles pale against the leather. Calvin’s smug voice played over and over in his head:

How well do you know your wife?

He hated that it made sense.

Out of all the taxis in Berlin, Alicia just happened to jump into the same one as him? During a black ops mission? He remembered the panic in her eyes, the softness in her voice as she insisted it was a mistake. That night turned into a whirlwind of apologies, laughter, and eventually… connection. Their whole relationship had unfolded from that moment. But Calvin’s probing made him question everything.

He pulled into the driveway, the house quiet, golden light spilling from the kitchen window. As soon as he stepped inside, Alicia’s voice floated from the living room.

"Hey, babe! You're home earlier than I thought. Want dinner?"

Quinn managed a tight smile. “Sure. Smells great.”

She leaned over to kiss him and he caught a faint trace of vanilla in her hair. Everything about her seemed normal. Too normal.

They chatted idly over plates of stir-fry. She told him a funny story about one of the toddlers at the daycare putting finger paint in another’s juice. He laughed along, but his stomach twisted in knots.

Then his phone rang.

Mason.

He answered immediately.

“Quinn,” Mason's voice came fast and breathless. “Listen to me carefully. The mission you just went on—it was a setup.”

“What?”

“The two men you killed… they were CIA. We just confirmed it. And the warehouse? There’s surveillance footage. It shows you executing them, taking the duffle bag, and running. It looks like you went rogue.”

Quinn stood slowly, the blood draining from his face. “That’s not possible—”

“They wiped the records, Quinn! The entire operation file is gone. Whoever did this erased everything. It’s like the mission never existed, and now it looks like you’re a traitor.”

Alicia looked up, brows furrowed. “Quinn? What is it?”

He held up a hand to silence her, heart pounding.

“Calvin’s trying to trace who did this,” Mason continued, “but you need to get out now. They’ll come for you. I’m sending you a secure drop. Move now.”

Quinn turned to Alicia. “We need to go. Right now. Pack your things.”

Her face crinkled in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have time to explain, Alicia. Someone set me up. The CIA thinks I’m a traitor.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, set up? What happened?”

“I said I don’t have time!” he shouted, voice shaking. “Just pack a damn bag!”

She walked over slowly, wrapping her arms around his neck, calming him with a soothing tone. “Okay, okay… We’ll figure this out. Everything will be all right.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, trying to slow his racing pulse.

That’s when her smartwatch beeped.

She froze, arms still around his neck. Her eyes flicked to the screen.

A text from Ryan: "Compromised. They know. Get out. Now."

Her heart skipped a beat.

Simultaneously, Quinn’s phone pinged with a new message from Mason:

"It was Alicia. She’s the one who set you up. She’s a spy."

His breath caught.

Everything stopped.

His arms began to lift to push her off—but it was too late.

Alicia’s grip around his neck tightened violently.

He felt it instantly—her muscles shifting, locking, leveraging perfectly. This wasn’t a desperate hug. This was a trained chokehold.

His eyes went wide. Her cheek was pressed to his, her lips almost lovingly brushing his ear.

And then she whispered:

“Sorry, baby.”

Quinn’s fingers clawed at her arms, but her grip only tightened, cutting off his breath as everything blurred.