The Lie Hidden in Roses Chapter 06

The Lie Hidden in Roses Chapter 06 My Father’s Cold Case

The report said Caleb Vale had been exposed during an undercover operation and executed by the Black Meridian Cartel.

Because the mission involved infiltration across the border, the public had been fed a cleaner version of the truth.

A car accident.

That was the story everyone knew.

That was the story designed to protect the wife and daughter he had left behind.

My father had not been killed by a drunk driver on some empty road in the middle of the night. The agency had buried what really happened because keeping my mother and me ignorant had also kept us alive.

My mother had lived with that lie for fifteen years.

So had I.

Rowan’s father had been on the same operation.

He had been my father’s partner.

And he had died that day too.

Two fathers.

One mission.

One cover story that had swallowed both of them whole.

Stapled to the back of the report was a list of names.

Four were marked dead.

Two were still alive.

Damon Cross.

Malcolm Voss.

My eyes stopped on the first name.

Damon Cross.

A strange pressure built at the back of my skull. I knew that name. I was sure of it. Maybe I had seen it in an article, maybe in one of Rowan’s files, or maybe in some place so ordinary I had never thought to pay

attention.

But the memory stayed just out of reach.

I took a picture of the list, then moved on to the next document.

It was a handwritten note.

One sentence.

Maren, if you’re reading this, then something happened to me. Run, and don’t look back.

The handwriting belonged to Rowan.

The careful letters were the same.

The slight lift at the end of each stroke was the same.

It was the same hand that had written on the rose petal.

Finished

My hands shook as I shoved the papers back into the envelope. I slid it beneath the box, put everything back exactly the way I had found it, locked the storage unit, and left.

When I stepped out of the alley, the sunlight struck my face so sharply my eyes burned.

I leaned back against the brick wall and closed them.

Rowan had not wandered into my life by accident.

He had found his way to me because of my father. Because of his father. Because of a mission both men had died before they could finish.

And he had kept that from me.

For three years, he had slept beside me, shared meals with me, kissed me goodbye in the morning, and held me through my worst nights while letting me believe we were just two people who had somehow found

each other.

More than a thousand days.

More than a thousand nights.

More than a thousand chances to tell me the truth.

Every time, he had chosen not to.

My phone rang.

Nolan.

I answered before it could ring again.

“Maren,” he said, his voice lowered, “what you asked me to look into is uglier than I expected.”

My hand tightened around the phone. “How ugly?”

Rowan’s father really did die in the line of duty. That part checks out. But the details are sealed, and I don’t

have the clearance to open that file.”

“What about Rowan?”

“On paper, he’s clean. Identity records, work history, background checks-everything looks normal. But there is one thing.”

“What?”

“He’s been flying a lot over the past three months. More than a dozen trips.”

“From where to where?”

“Ravenshore and the Frostline Border.”

The words hit me so hard I forgot how to breathe.

The Frostline Border.

That was where my father’s final operation had taken place.

I took a cab home, but the entire ride blurred into passing traffic lights and broken thoughts I could not hold long enough to understand.

Who had sent the man pretending to be Rowan?

Was it the Black Meridian Cartel?

Or was it someone even more dangerous?

And why come after me?

Why put on Rowan’s face and walk straight into my home?

When I got back, the apartment was empty.

The TV was off. The living room sat perfectly still. The curtains had been drawn halfway open, allowing a thin band of afternoon light to stretch across the floor.

There was a note on the table.

Maren, I ran out to pick up a few things. I’ll be back soon. Text me if you want anything, and I’ll bring it home.

I went straight to the bedroom.

Then I opened Rowan’s closet and began searching.

He did not own much, but everything he had was arranged with almost unsettling precision. His shirts were orgamzed from light to dark. His jackets were sorted by weight. His pants were folded along the same clean

Exactly how Rowan always kept them.

Exactly how this man wanted me to believe Rowan would.

I went through every pocket, one at a time.

When I reached the coat hanging at the very back, my fingers closed around something small and hard.