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We move through the darkness, a parade of broken innocence. The kids cling to us, to each other. Some cry silently. Others are too shell-shocked to make a sound.
The Rufis guard our flanks as Jenny leads us deeper into the bowels of the building. Every shadow holds potential death. Every corner could bring disaster.
My shoulder throbs with each step, but I keep my rifle ready. Nothing will touch these children. Nothing will harm them again.
A drainage tunnel opens before us, cool air rushing in. Water drips from rusted pipes. Rats scatter in the darkness.
“Two hundred meters to the exit,”Mitzy calls out, her voice tight.“Then you’re out.”
The children move faster now, hope driving tired legs. The smallest ones we carry. The others help each other, showing strength beyond their years.
“Contact rear!” Mac’s warning echoes through the tunnel.
Gunfire thunders in the confined space. The Rufis respond. Bodies splash into dirty water.
“Keep moving.” Jenny pushes us forward. “Almost there.”
Light appears ahead—pale and weak but promising freedom. The tunnel mouth opens onto a service road near the river.
“Transport’s two minutes out,” Jenny says into her comm. “Everyone stay tight.”
We emerge into the pre-dawn air. The children blink in the gray light, faces turned toward the sky like flowers seeking the sun.
Ember stays close, her body trembling against mine. The adrenaline begins to fade, leaving exhaustion in its wake.
Black SUVs appear, rolling to a stop with precision. Doors open. Medical teams emerge.
“Get them loaded,” Jenny orders. “Priority on the children. Then our wounded.”
The kids go quietly, helped by gentle hands. Some look back, seeking reassurance. Ember smiles through her tears, her strength never wavering.
“Time to go,” I murmur, my arm tightening around her waist. The world spins slightly, blood loss taking its toll.
She turns into my embrace, her face pressing into my chest. “I thought I lost you.”
“Never.”
We load into the last vehicle. The Rufi units bound into their specially designed crates. Their job is done.
As we pull away, I hold Ember close. Her breathing evens out, exhaustion finally claiming her. Behind us, Wolfe’s empire lies in ruins. His legacy of pain ends tonight. These children will know safety now.
Know love.
Know hope.
And Ember …
I press my lips to her hair, ignoring the pain that comes with every breath.
Ember is free.
THIRTY-NINE
Ember
The rideto the safe house is a blur of aching limbs and muffled voices. When we finally arrive, medics swarm, efficient and calm, patching up wounds and checking vitals.
Blaze fights to stay by my side, arguing with the doctor, who insists he needs more care. His eyes never leave me, even as they dress the bullet wound in his shoulder. My own injuries are tended to—bruises, cuts, signs of the torture Wolfe put me through—but nothing feels quite real until they tell me I’m free to go.