Chapter 41 - The Ripple Effect
The morning sun over Lake Tahoe felt different today—warm, unhurried, and blessedly mundane. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t wake up scanning the perimeter or mentally checking the ammunition count in my bedside safe.
Ethan was already downstairs, clattering around in the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet and a bag of locally sourced coffee beans. The rich, dark aroma drifted up the wooden staircase, mixing with the crisp scent of pine blowing off the Sierra Nevada peaks.
I pulled on a clean gray t-shirt and dark jeans, stepping out onto the second-floor balcony. The water below was a mirror of sapphire, unmarred by stealth submersibles, encrypted data pings, or shadow syndicates.
My phone, resting on the cedar nightstand, chimed with a gentle, non-threatening notification. It wasn’t an encrypted military relay or a panic code from a black-ops asset. It was a calendar reminder for a video call with my father, scheduled for later this afternoon.
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I let out a low chuckle, walking back inside and heading down to the kitchen.
Ethan flipped a pancake with unnecessary theatrical flair, catching it neatly back in the center of the pan before sliding it onto a ceramic plate.
“Morning, Commander,” Ethan said, grinning as he poured me a mug of black coffee. “Sleep well in a world devoid of autonomous neural networks?”
“Better than I have in six years,” I replied, taking the mug and leaning against the kitchen island. “Any word from Sterling?”
Ethan’s smile faltered just a fraction, his professional instincts kicking back in for a split second before he masked it with a casual shrug. “The general checked out of his safehouse in Marquette yesterday afternoon. Rumor has it he bought a small fly-fishing cabin outside of Bozeman. No satellite comms, no secure terminals. Just trout streams and bad cell reception.”
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“Good for him,” I murmured, taking a sip of the coffee. “He earned it.”
“True,” Ethan said, turning back to the stove to flip another pancake. “Though you might want to check your encrypted email inbox before you get too comfortable. There’s a message waiting from an unlisted terminal in Geneva.”
