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Mitzy weaves between the customers standing in line, her rainbow-colored pixie cut catching the light with each bouncing step. Her eyes, bright and alert, lock onto me.

“Sorry! Sorry! You didn’t catch me at my office. I’m running late today doing some stuff,” she explains in her high-pitched voice. “Heard that you were headed over here and thought I would come and find you.”

Mitzy suddenly stops and extends her hand. “I’m Mitzy, by the way, head of Tech at Guardian HRS, the one who helped coordinate your extraction.” Her grin is infectious. “You were impressive during the whole rescue, by the way, and you’re a quantum physicist.” She props a hand on her hip. “I love nerdy chicks in science. Us STEM girls gotta stick together.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m grateful for?—”

“No, no, I should be thanking YOU!” She cuts me off, reaching into her bag to pull out yet another device. “I’ve read all your published papers. Your work on quantum entanglement and field fluctuations in fusion reactors? Brilliant! And if you’re ever looking for work after you finish your PhD, our tech team would love to snap you up in a heartbeat. ”

“You read that?” I blink, surprised at her familiarity with my academic work. “Nobody reads stuff like that.”

“I read everything,” she says matter-of-factly. “I make it my business to stay current on quantum physics research—especially when it intersects with our work. Your theoretical approaches to quantum entanglement in fusion containment systems are exactly what we need on our team.” She leans in eagerly. “Someone with your skills? Your way of thinking? We need you on our side. Your work on minimizing anomalous energy signatures using entangled states is groundbreaking.”

I stare at her, momentarily speechless. That research was part of my doctoral work—highly theoretical when I first published it—but I advanced it during my captivity. Twisted it. Subtly rewrote the equations. I used quantum entanglement to introduce inconsistencies—tiny deviations in phase coherence that would look like background noise. But left unchecked, they’d ripple outward and destabilize the reactor.

It was my rebellion. Elegant. Hidden in plain sight. A time bomb no one would notice until it was too late.

“I have so much to tell you,” I say quietly. “About what I saw while I was there. About what they’re really building.”

“Yes, we must talk. But first…” She lifts a finger. “I need caffeine gold. Malia, hit me with something spectacular.”

“On it.” Malia rubs her hands together, her brows scrunching as she thinks about what to serve Mitzy. “Why don’t the two of you sit and talk all that quantum entanglement stuff. I’ll bring your drinks.”

“Cool.” Mitzy glances around the shop, sees Hank and Gabe sitting at a table, and pulls me with her. “I’m assuming they’re with you… or rather, you’re with them.”

Gabe notices and immediately stands, procuring an extra chair for Mitzy.

“Now,” Mitzy says, eyes twinkling. “I want to hear about your project—the modifications you made to the reactor designs.”

I lower my voice. “How do you know…”

“That you deliberately introduced flaws into Malfor’s prize project?” Mitzy says, matching my quiet tone. “Brilliant work, by the way. The cascade failure was spectacular.”

“How?” I ask, surprised.

“The energy release patterns were consistent with a containment failure, but I detected something unusual about the progression—something that suggested intelligent design rather than random error. And then, Malikai told me.”

“Malikai?”

“Yeah, he knew what you and Dr. Whittman were trying to do. Kept it quiet.”

“Wow, I didn’t know…” I shouldn’t be surprised Malikai found out, but if he did, I worry who else knew? If Malfor…

I shake my head, unwilling to follow that train of thought, and turn my attention back to Mitzy.

“I couldn’t sabotage it outright. They were watching too closely. I introduced subtle flaws in the quantum tunneling calculations that would only become apparent once the reactor reached certain thresholds. But it wasn’t just me. We all did what we could,” I say, uncomfortable with the credit.

“I can understand that,” Mitzy says.

“Malikai deliberately slowed the construction phase. Dr. Whittman introduced his errors in the containment field geometry.”

“A team effort in resistance,” Mitzy says approvingly. “But I’m particularly interested in your project—the one you kept hidden.”

“I didn’t want them to get hurt if Malfor discovered it.”

“Well, it’s elegant work. Like I said, I live for data,” she says with a mysterious smile. “And you left breadcrumbs in your work—patterns that someone who knows what to look for might recognize.”

Malia delivers our drinks herself, setting them down with a flourish. “One boring black coffee,” she announces, placing mine in front of me. “One pretentious hipster latte,” she adds, sliding Gabe’s toward him. “And one ‘I’m too manly for flavors’ Americano.” She winks at Hank, who accepts his cup with dignified grace. “And an Echo Enigma for Mitzy. ”

“Thanks,” I say, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic. “This smells amazing.”

I take a sip of my coffee—perfectly brewed, rich without being bitter—and savor the momentary normality. No captivity, no quantum physics, no?—

Gabe settles into a chair beside me. “Did Mitzy tell you she wants to adopt you?”

Mitzy shoots him a look. “I did.”

“Let me finish my thesis and get my PhD. before we start deciding where I’ll work,” I laugh. “Right now, I just want my laptop to work.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mitzy asks, immediately alert.

“It’s on the fritz. Battery draining unusually fast, everything running slower than it should.”

“When did it start?” Interest sparks in Mitzy’s eyes.

“I don’t know. Recently. It was with my father while I was in Kazakhstan. I just got it back.”

“Interesting,” she says, her mind already working on the problem. “And you said the battery drains quickly?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing with it when this started?”

“Going over my research. Trying to dust the cobwebs off my thesis work.”

“Did you attach any external devices? USBs? External hard drive?” Her tone shifts, almost like an interrogation.

“Just my USB.” I take another sip of coffee, watching her reaction. “The one with my thesis work.”

“Where was this USB drive before you connected it to your laptop?” Mitzy asks carefully.

“I’ve had it with me the whole time,” I explain. “It’s the only thing I managed to keep when I was kidnapped.”

Mitzy’s eyes widen. “Wait—this USB drive was in Kazakhstan with you? At Malfor’s facility?”

“Yes, but I kept it hidden,” I explain. “I had it on me when I was kidnapped.”

“No one knew about it?” She leans forward, her colorful hair falling across her forehead.

“Nobody.” I think back to the small metal case I modified to shield the drive from detection. “It was in a custom Faraday sleeve most of the time. Nobody knew I had it, and nobody touched it.”

“Hold up.” Hank’s voice cuts in, low and sharp with concern. “How did you keep it concealed? They would’ve searched you after the grab.”

Gabe’s eyes darken, jaw tight. “Yeah. We saw the facility reports—they strip everyone down.”

I nod, lips twitching. “They did. But not well.”

Hank frowns. “Meaning?”

“It’s a tiny USB.” I lift my foot slightly, wiggling my toes for emphasis. “I kept it between my toes during the search. They stripped us, sure—but they didn’t look there.”

Gabe stares for a beat, then exhales a rough, impressed sound. “You’re fucking brilliant.”

Hank just grins, shaking his head. “Remind me never to underestimate you.”

Mitzy taps her finger thoughtfully against her mug. “But during your time there… No one could have accessed it, even briefly?”

“Positive. That drive contains years of my work—I wasn’t about to let it out of my sight.” I meet her gaze steadily. “Why? Do you think something’s wrong with it?”

“Might be unrelated, but my phone’s doing the same thing as her laptop, not holding a charge. So is Gabe’s,” Hank interjects.

Mitzy’s expression sharpens. “Since when?”

“Mine started last night,” Gabe says. “Charged it fully before bed, woke up to find it at 20%.”

“Same,” Hank nods. “Thought it was a coincidence.”

Mitzy sets her coffee down, suddenly all business. “I need to see all three devices. Now.” The note of urgency in her voice sends a chill through me.

“You think something’s wrong?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.

Her eyes meet mine, serious despite the cheerful color of her hair. “I think we need to rule out some possibilities. Did you have your USB drive connected to any of these devices?”

“I checked my research on my laptop yesterday,” I confirm. “And Hank borrowed my laptop briefly to look something up.”

“And the phones have been near the laptop? Same room? Same table?”

“Yes,” Gabe confirms, exchanging a concerned look with Hank.

“That’s what I thought,” Mitzy says, rising from her seat. “Let’s continue this conversation in my lab. Bring your drinks if you want, but we need to move.”

Malia catches my hand as I stand. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she promises. “This sounds important.”

I nod, squeezing her hand. “Definitely. I want to hear everything about what you’ve been up to.”

“Dinner tonight?” she suggests. “Walt and I would love to have you over.”

“Rain check?” I glance at Hank and Gabe, who are already following Mitzy toward the exit. I’d love to have dinner with Malia, but if our medical tests come back, I know exactly what Hank and Gabe will want to do.

She smiles knowingly. “Call me when you’re free.”

Before we can leave with Mitzy, Hank’s phone buzzes. The shift in his posture is immediate—from relaxed to alert in a heartbeat. Gabe’s phone buzzes next, followed by Mitzy’s.

They each glance at their screens, then exchange a look that contains volumes of unspoken communication.

“What is it?” I ask, already knowing the answer won’t be good.

Gabe’s hand covers mine on the table. “We’ve been called in,” he says, his voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. “Emergency briefing.”

“Both of you?” I can’t keep the disappointment from my voice.

Hank nods, already standing. “Alpha team needs backup for an extraction. Details classified, but?—”

“Time-sensitive,” Gabe finishes. He squeezes my hand once before releasing it. “We shouldn’t be long. A day or two at most.”

A day or two. The words hit harder than I expect. This will be the first time we’re separated. Well, the first time since Hank dismissed my security detail and brought me to stay with him and Gabe.

“Oh,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. “Okay.”

Hank leans down, pressing a quick, firm kiss to my temple. “We’ll make it up to you,” he promises, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

Then he straightens, glancing at Gabe, then back at me. That sharp, calculating look crosses his face—the one I recognize as Hank taking charge.

“You’re not going back to the house alone,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Not negotiable.”

“I’ll be fine?—”

“No.” His tone leaves no room for argument, firm but not unkind. “Our place is secure because we’re there. Without us, it’s a target.”

I swallow, nodding, knowing he’s right.

“You’ll stay with Sophia until we’re back,” Hank says, already texting. “You’ll be protected, and you won’t be alone. Sophia will love having you around.”

I hesitate, chewing on my lip. “Why not Malia? I don’t know Sophia.”

Hank doesn’t miss a beat. “Because Sophia stays on Guardian HQ grounds. There’s nothing safer. It’s either her, Jenna, or Mia. Malia lives off-base.”

“So?”

“Guardian HQ,” Gabe says, “is locked down. Surveillance. Security on every level. It’s a fortress.”

I glance between them, still uncertain, but their confidence settles something inside me.

Hank softens, stepping closer. “I wouldn’t leave you anywhere else, luv. This is about keeping you safe while we’re not there to do it ourselves.”

Gabe’s hand finds mine again, warm and solid. “Just a day or two,” he reminds me. “Then we’re back.”

“Okay.” I nod slowly, heart pounding but steady .

Hank’s hand squeezes my shoulder, grounding me. “You’re ours. We protect what’s ours.”

Gabe follows suit, his lips lingering against my cheek. “Think of tonight as a rain check,” he murmurs. “Something to look forward to when we get back.”

And then they’re gone, moving through the crowd, leaving me alone at the table with Mitzy.

“I need to take a look at your laptop, and I need that USB,” Mitzy says, gathering her things, “but I’ve got some other matters to handle first. Come by my lab tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock?”

“Sure.” I hand over my laptop and the tiny USB, worried about Mitzy’s concern.

“Perfect,” Mitzy says. “I’ll see you then.” She gives my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “They’ll be fine, you know. They’re the best at what they do.”

After she leaves, I sit there, momentarily stunned by their abrupt departure. The noise of the coffee shop seems to intensify around me—conversations, laughter, the hiss of steam—highlighting my sudden solitude.

What now?

I glance toward the counter, where Malia efficiently manages the continuing chaos, and remember her mentioning being short-staffed. This may be an opportunity.

Taking a deep breath, I gather the coffee cups and stand, making my way to the counter. Malia greets me with a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Those two certainly know how to make an exit,” she says, nodding toward the door Hank and Gabe just disappeared through.

“They excel at dramatic departures,” I agree, setting the cups on the counter. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.” Malia glances around the shop, surveying the afternoon lull. Her expression shifts, brow furrowing slightly as she leans against the counter. “Listen, Ally… I hate to ask, but?—”

“You need help?” I prompt when she hesitates.

“Yes.” She gestures toward the door and the line of customers. “We’re about to get slammed with the post-meeting crowd from the East Wing… and we’re already slammed.” She trails off, eyeing me with hopeful speculation.

I glance down at my outfit—jeans and a borrowed T-shirt, hardly barista attire—but the pleading look in Malia’s eyes is difficult to resist. Besides, what else will I do while Hank and Gabe are away?

“You want me to help?” I ask, though her request is clear enough.

Relief floods her expression. “Just for today. Nothing complicated—maybe run the register while Jenna handles the coffee? I swear it’s easier than quantum physics.”

I laugh despite myself. “Well, how can I refuse when you put it that way?” The prospect of being useful, of having somewhere to belong, even temporarily, is surprisingly appealing.

Malia beams, reaching behind the counter to grab a spare apron. “You’re a lifesaver. And who knows—you might even enjoy it.”

As she hands me the apron and begins a quick rundown of the register system, the door chimes, announcing the arrival of the first wave of post-meeting survivors needing a caffeine injection to finish their day.

They pour in like a tactical unit, eyes slightly glazed from hours of briefings and strategy discussions, their collective energy screaming “coffee or collapse.”

“And so it begins,” Malia mutters, straightening her shoulders as she shifts into battle mode. “Ready?”

“Let’s do this.” I tie the apron around my waist and take a deep breath, nodding with more confidence than I feel.

The line forms quickly—dozens of Guardian operatives and admin staff, each more desperate for caffeine than the last. I position myself at the register, grateful for my quick memory as I punch in orders while Malia and Jenna work the machines behind me.