Chapter 279
Chapter 279:
His voice came through the speaker, and it sounded completely wrong. The sharp, confident tone was gone, replaced by something ragged and heavy and thick with exhaustion.
“June. My grandfather had a massive heart attack three hours ago. He’s in the ICU in Los Angeles. They don’t think he’s going to make it through the night p>
June’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Brogan — is he going to be okay? What happened p>
“I’m boarding a jet right now,” Brogan said, the weight of his family obligations pressing audibly into every word. “I have to take over the family trust immediately. June, I am so sorry.” A pause, heavy with guilt. “I can’t focus on anything else from three thousand miles away. I have to put everything on hold p>
The words struck her like a physical blow. Her lungs constricted. The one person she had relied on to help her navigate the chaos had just been pulled away by something no one could argue with.
“Don’t apologize,” June said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Go be with your family. That’s what matters. I will be fine p>
She ended the call.
A dark, freezing wave of isolation moved through her. She stood alone in the vast lobby, staring at the marble floor.
Crawford walked up quietly behind her. He didn’t ask about the call. He simply looked at the hollowness in her eyes.
𝖯o𝗉𝘶𝘭𝖺r ѕ𝘵𝗈𝗿𝘪𝗲𝘴 оո 𝘨a𝘭𝗻𝗈𝗏еlѕ.𝘤𝗈m
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low.
June drew a slow, deep breath and pushed everything back behind the locked door in her mind.
“Yes,” she said, her voice hardening into cold clarity. “Let’s go to Providence p>
She walked out into the rain without looking back — entirely unaware that Crawford was watching her with the dark, patient eyes of a predator whose only real competition had just left the field.
The black Range Rover pulled up to the valet stand of The Mariner’s Pearl — an ultra-exclusive, members-only seafood restaurant perched on a jagged cliff overlooking the dark, churning waters of the Atlantic Ocean in Providence.
June stepped out of the car. The freezing ocean wind whipped her hair across her face. She looked at the glowing entrance and frowned.
“I thought we were going straight to the FBI field office,” she said, her voice tight with urgency.
Crawford handed his keys to the valet and placed a light, guiding hand on the small of her back. “A starving soldier makes fatal mistakes,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “We eat first p>
The restaurant manager was waiting at the glass doors. He bowed and led them to a private, secluded booth positioned directly against a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the dark water below.
Crawford didn’t open the menu. He looked at the waiter and ordered without hesitation — steamed wild-caught sea bass, roasted asparagus, and a clear restorative broth.
It was precisely what June’s exhausted body needed, and precisely what she would have ordered for herself.
She stared at him across the candlelit table. The depth of his observation made the hairs on her arms rise. She folded her hands on the white tablecloth and kept her voice low.