We drove through, the sense of relief washing over me like a warm wave.

Jake parked in a reserved spot near the rear entrance of the brick medical center.

We carried Owen inside, the warm air of the lobby smelling of antiseptic and floor wax.

Major Rebecca Hayes was waiting for us near the elevators.

She wore her digital camouflage uniform, her hair pulled back in a neat bun.

Beside her stood a tall man in a dark trench coat, holding a leather folder.

“Jake, Hannah, thank God you’re safe,” Major Hayes said, stepping forward.

“This is Agent Daniel Reyes from the federal financial crimes division.”

Reyes nodded at us, his expression grim.

“We need to talk,” Reyes said, gesturing toward a private conference room down the hall.

“We just pulled the signature files on your military trust.”

We followed him into the room, the door clicking shut behind us.

Reyes opened his leather folder on the laminate table.

He pulled out a copy of an official document with a red government stamp.

“Your brother Logan didn’t work alone to declare you dead, Jake,” Reyes said.