Page 159 of The Wrong Brother

Courage rarely looks fearless. Most often, it looks exactly like Shannon.

The city swallows us, and the traffic thickens. Brick buildings replace pine forests, familiar intersections replacing winding mountain roads. Every block carries another memory I spent years trying to push away because it hurt too much to be away from it.

Now I’m driving back into the past, looking to make a future.

Emma reaches across the center console and rests her hand lightly over mine. I don’t look away from the road, but I turn my hand over until our fingers lace together.

The Ritchie Center comes into view several minutes later. The parking lot is already overflowing. Satellite news vans line the curb, their antennas reaching toward the gray sky. Luxury sedans, police cruisers, and camera crews crowd the entrance. There are enough people gathered outside that I know we’ve arrived exactly when we were supposed to.

The event has already begun. This will be one of Andrei’s biggest campaign events leading up to the election.

Perfect.

I pull the SUV to the curb, and the engine falls silent. For one long moment neither of us moves—this is the point of no return.

I step out first. The crisp Denver air greets me immediately, carrying the distant murmur of reporters and the unmistakable buzz of a crowd gathered just inside the glass entrance.

Rolling my shoulders once, I crack my neck and am greeted by the familiarpopthat puts me in the zone. Not anxiety, but anticipation.

I open Emma’s door before she has the chance. She looks up at me, and the uncertainty in her eyes lasts only a heartbeat before she places her hand in mine. I help her from the SUV carefully, waiting until both feet are firmly on the pavement before letting go.

“You okay?” I ask. She nods.

“I am.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” Her fingers brush mine again. “But I’m going to.”

The second SUV door opens behind us, followed quickly by the third.

My security team spreads outward with a professional air. In a variety of charcoal and black suits, well-tailored, they could be lawyers or business moguls. But their sharp eyes scan the area, flicking to rooftops, cataloguing vans and crowd size.

Taking in Andrei’s own men, in obvious uniform with tech in their ears and holsters visible.

Two men stay behind, waiting as Shannon steps out. They are assigned specifically toher,not just because they’re good at theirjobs, but because they have the right demeanor to make her feel calm and safe.

She pauses beside the SUV for just a moment, smoothing trembling hands over the front of a navy wool coat she’d borrowed for today. The guards move instinctively to either side of her, though she barely seems to notice them.

She notices the building instead. The camera, the crowd—the climax she’s spent years avoiding.

She’s nervous.

Anyone with eyes could see that.

But she lifts her chin, anyway.

She’s tired, too. The years have left quiet traces across her face, yet it’s still possible to see the young woman she was once. If anything, that youthful innocence has been replaced with something stronger—a resilience.

Shannon catches my eye across the parking lot. I walk toward her, Emma joining me without hesitation. Even though they’ve only had a handful of opportunities to talk, the women are obviously bonded thanks to what they’ve endured.

For a moment, the three of us stand together beneath the gray Colorado sky while reporters continue talking inside, completely unaware of what is about to happen.

I look first at Emma. Then at Shannon.

Finally, toward the entrance.

“Ready?” I ask.