Aria backed away.
“What number?”
“I still have it.”
“Call it.”
“Aria—”
“Mom. Call it now.”
A pause.
Then her mother said, “Okay.”
The line disconnected.
Everyone stared at Cross.
He looked genuinely confused.
“That is not possible.”
Jackson smiled coldly.
“Apparently Thomas disagreed.”
Thirty seconds passed.
Then Cross's phone rang.
Nobody moved.
Cross looked at the screen.
Unknown caller.
Jackson whispered, “Answer it.”
Cross pressed speaker.
“Cross.”
For two seconds there was only static.
Then Thomas Mercer's voice said:
“Daniel.”
Aria's breath caught.
This wasn't a recording.
Cross's face drained of color.
“Thomas?”
“Been a long time.”
Jackson stepped toward the phone.
“You son of a—”
“Hale,” Thomas said. “Still angry.”
Jackson's eyes filled.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Not important.”
Aria moved closer.
“Dad?”
Silence.
Then the voice changed.
Softer.
“My little bear.”
Aria's hand went to her mouth.
No one knew that name.
No one.
“Dad.”
“I'm sorry.”
Twenty-three years of anger erupted at once.
“No.”
“I know.”
“No, you do not get to say that and disappear again.”
“I don't plan to.”
“Then tell me where you are.”
“I can't yet.”
“Why?”
“Because Cross is standing beside you.”
Everyone looked at him.
Cross shook his head.
“Thomas, I'm not your enemy.”
Thomas laughed once.
“You never were.”
Cross's brow furrowed.
“What does that mean?”
“You were their replacement.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
The room froze.
Thomas continued.
“Daniel, tell my daughter when you first met her.”
Cross said nothing.
Aria turned slowly.
“When?”
His silence became an answer.
Harper stared at him.
“Daniel?”
Cross closed his eyes.
“2010.”
Aria was stunned.
“I was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“You wouldn't remember.”
“Try me.”
Cross's voice became quiet.
“At a regional martial arts tournament in Virginia.”
Aria remembered.
A man had approached her coach after she won.
Gray polo shirt.
Government haircut.
He'd complimented her discipline.
Asked whether she'd considered public service.
She had forgotten him completely.
Until now.
Aria stared.
“That was you.”
“Yes.”
“You've been watching me since I was seventeen.”
Cross shook his head.
“I was evaluating athletes for military recruitment.”
Thomas's voice cut through the phone.
“Lie.”
Cross slammed his palm onto the table.
“Enough! If you have evidence, show yourself.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Today.”
Aria stopped breathing.
“Where?”
Thomas gave coordinates.
Jackson recognized them.
“The main training field.”
“At noon,” Thomas said.
Cross looked toward Harper.
“You can't seriously allow this.”
Thomas continued.
“One thousand witnesses were good enough for the beginning.”
The line went silent for a fraction of a second.
“They'll be good enough for the end.”
Then the call disconnected.
By 11:30 a.m., rumors had spread throughout the installation.
Nobody knew the truth.
Some believed Jackson was being arrested.
Others believed Aria had been removed from duty.
A video of the takedown had already circulated internally despite orders restricting recordings.
At noon, the training field was full again.
Not because anyone officially summoned the troops.
Because soldiers talk.
And because no order could completely suppress what had happened the day before.
Aria stood near the center with General Harper.
Jackson stood twenty feet away under supervision.
Cross had spent the morning arguing that the field should be cleared.
Harper overruled him.