Page 31

The afternoon rush at Guardian Grind finally subsides around five, leaving me with a moment to breathe. My feet ache from standing, but a strange satisfaction comes with in the physical fatigue—so different from the mental exhaustion of quantum calculations.

“You’re a natural,” Malia says, bumping her hip against mine as we wipe down the counters. “Sure you don’t want to ditch physics and become a full-time barista?”

I laugh, tossing my cleaning rag into the small bucket. “I think I’ll stick with fusion reactors. Less pressure.”

“Fair enough.” She glances at the clock, then back at me with a contemplative look. “So, the guys are gone for the night… ”

“Looks that way,” I sigh, trying not to let my disappointment show. The memory of their abrupt departure still stings, though I understand the necessity.

“Which means,” Malia continues, her eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration, “it’s the perfect time for Charlie’s Angels to assemble.”

“Charlie’s Angels?” Jenna calls from where she’s restocking the pastry case. “Are you still trying to get that to stick? ”

Malia grins, already pulling out her phone. “Damn right. Movie night. Sophia’s place. I’m calling everyone.”

“Everyone?” I ask, suddenly nervous at the prospect of socializing with a group of women I barely know.

“The whole crew,” Malia confirms, fingers already flying across her screen. “You, me, Jenna, Sophia, Rebel, and Mia. It’s about time you all properly met.”

Jenna nods approvingly. “Sophia’s got Luke. My place is better—it’s just down the hall from Sophia’s. So, she can be close to Luke, and Ally, you can crash in my guest room.”

“Luke?”

“Sophia’s son,” Jenna says. “She has a five-year-old. He was held hostage by Malfor to force her cooperation. Long story.”

Malia pauses her texting to look at me. “This okay with you? I know it’s a lot of new people at once.”

The concern in her voice touches me. After months of isolation at Malfor’s compound, large gatherings still make me anxious, but these aren’t just any women. They’re connected to me in ways few others could understand.

“Yeah,” I say, surprising myself with how much I mean it. “I’d like that.”

“Perfect!” Malia’s smile is radiant as she returns to her phone. “Proper Charlie’s Angels initiation night it is.”

Two hours later, I find myself curled up on one end of Jenna’s oversized sectional, a glass of wine in hand and a bowl of popcorn within reaching distance.

A large German Shepherd with watchful eyes and a distinctive scar on his flank lies at Jenna’s feet, occasionally lifting his head to survey the room before settling back down with a contented sigh. The apartment is larger than I expected—a spacious two-bedroom on the third floor of one of Guardian HQ’s residential buildings. Modern but comfortable, with soft lighting and plush furnishings.

“This is Max,” Jenna says fondly, scratching behind the German Shepherd’s ears. “Technically, he’s Carter’s, but I’m his person now.”

“He took a bullet for her,” Malia explains. “Since then, he barely leaves her side.”

Max’s ears perk up at the sound of his name, and he offers a soft “woof” before resting his head on Jenna’s foot.

Something about the space is welcoming and makes me feel instantly at home, even though I’ve just met most of these women.

Sophia settles into an armchair, glancing at her phone. “Luke’s already asleep. I set up the baby monitor so I can hear if he wakes up.”

“How’s he doing?” Malia asks gently.

“Better,” Sophia says with a small smile. “The nightmares are less frequent now. He still asks for Blake constantly when he’s away, though.”

Something in her tone—a quiet acknowledgment of shared trauma—resonates with me. I haven’t yet learned her story, but I recognize the shadows behind her eyes. They match my own.

Malia bustles around the kitchen, pulling snacks from bags while Jenna arranges an impressive spread of wine bottles on the counter. Max follows her, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor, hoping for any dropped treats.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jenna tells him firmly, though her tone is affectionate. “You know what happens when you eat people food.”

Max whines softly but obediently returns to his position by the couch, though his eyes never leave the snack preparation.

Rebel sits cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through movie options on the large wall-mounted TV screen.

“Nothing with explosions,” she declares firmly. “I’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime.”

“Amen to that,” says a voice from the doorway.

We all turn to see two women entering. The first is petite with sleek black hair and striking eyes, carrying a tray of what look like homemade desserts.

Behind her follows a woman with a familiar look about her—she has the same high cheekbones and intense eyes as Rebel, along with the same auburn hair .

“Mia!” Malia squeals, rushing to help with the tray. “And Violet. I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Rebel invited me,” Violet says with a shy smile. “Zephyr’s with a sitter. I needed a night off.”

“Ally,” Malia announces, “this is Mia Chen, biochemical genius and Rigel’s better half. And this is Violet, Rebel’s sister and mother to the sweetest seven-year-old on the planet.”

Mia rolls her eyes but smiles. “Hardly a genius, but I do keep Rigel in line.” She sets the tray down and turns to me. “You must be Ally. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Max rises immediately, trotting over to inspect the newcomers with professional interest.

“Hi, Max,” Mia greets him, holding out her hand for him to sniff before scratching under his chin. “Still on guard duty, I see.”

The dog’s tail wags appreciatively before he returns to Jenna’s side, apparently satisfied that the new arrivals pose no threat.

Violet gives me a small wave. “Nice to meet you. Rebel’s told me about your… unique situation with Hank and Gabe.”

“All good things, I hope?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Please,” Malia interrupts, gathering us all with a wave. “Can we take a moment to officially welcome the newest member of our little sisterhood?” She raises her wine glass. “To Ally, the latest addition to Charlie’s Angels.”

“Wait, are we calling ourselves that?” Rebel asks skeptically, arching an eyebrow as she fights a smile.

“Sure as shit we are,” Malia replies confidently, looking around the room. “All in favor of officially becoming Charlie’s Angels, raise your glass.”

One by one, each woman raises her glass—Sophia first, then Mia, Rebel with an exaggerated eye-roll, Violet with a giggle, and finally Jenna with a resigned shake of her head.

“Absolutely,” Malia declares. “We’re beautiful, brilliant, and all inexplicably drawn to the most dangerous men on the planet. I’d say we qualify as Charlie’s Angels.”

“Even me?” Violet asks. “I’m not with anyone from Charlie team.”

“You can be an honorary angel like me,” Jenna says.

“Absolutely, two honorary Angels,” Malia decides without missing a beat. “Violet survived Rebel as a sister, which is probably more dangerous anyway. And since Carter and Blake are twins, and Carter’s an official Guardian Protector, Jenna’s one too.”

Rebel tosses a throw pillow at Malia, which she dodges expertly.

“I was a great big sister… until.” Her expression darkens, but she doesn’t finish whatever she was going to say.

“To Charlie’s Angels,” Sophia says, raising her glass. “And to surviving the men of Charlie team.”

We clink glasses, and the sound rings through the apartment like a promise.

“So,” Malia says, settling into the couch beside me, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Now that we’re all here, I’ve been dying to ask—” she glances around at the others “—is anyone else curious about what it’s like to handle two alpha males at once?”

“Malia!” Heat immediately rushes to my cheeks.

“What? We’re all friends here,” she says, completely unrepentant. “Besides, Gabe and Hank are… well, they’re a lot individually. Together? I can’t even imagine.”

All eyes turn to me, curious but not judgmental. Despite my embarrassment, there’s something freeing about being among women who understand the unique dynamics of loving men who live dangerous lives.

Jenna leans forward. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to, but… we’re all curious.”

I take a generous sip of wine, gathering courage. “It’s… intense,” I admit finally. “They’re both so commanding in different ways.”

“Called it,” Malia whispers loudly to Sophia, who shushes her.

“Hank is… deliberate. Steady. He thinks everything through.” I pause, searching for the right words. “Gabe is more impulsive and passionate.”

“And in bed?” Rebel asks, unapologetically direct.

The wine makes me braver than I might otherwise be. “They complement each other. What one starts, the other finishes. It’s like… they communicate without words.”

“God, that sounds hot,” Malia sighs.

“It is,” I admit, surprising myself with my candor. “But it’s more than that. It’s like they’ve created this space where I’m completely… I don’t know, held. Protected.”

“I get that,” Sophia says quietly. “Blake’s the same way. After what happened to me, I didn’t think I could ever feel safe again. But he makes me feel… untouchable.”

Max suddenly raises his head, ears forward, alertness in every line of his body. He stands, moving to the center of the room, his posture tense.

“What is it, boy?” Jenna asks, immediately on edge.

The dog walks to the door, sniffing along the bottom edge before woofing softly.

Jenna relaxes. “It’s just the night patrol,” she explains. “He recognizes their footsteps. Carter trained him to distinguish between familiar and unfamiliar personnel.”

Max returns to his spot as if confirming her assessment, though he remains slightly more vigilant than before.

Mia nods, her expression thoughtful. “Rigel can be so intimidating to others, but with me, he’s different. Gentle, but still strong.”

“It’s the duality that gets me,” Jenna adds. “Carter can disable a man twice his size in seconds, but he treats me like I’m made of glass.” She smiles down at Max. “Both of them do. This fierce protector who’d take another bullet for me without hesitation also sleeps at the foot of our bed and whines when Carter doesn’t let him on the furniture.”

Max looks up at her with soulful eyes as if understanding he’s being discussed.

“Don’t give me that look,” she tells him. “You know you’re spoiled.”

“Not Walt,” Malia laughs. “He treats me like I’m made of steel. Says I’m the strongest person he knows.”

“You are,” Rebel says firmly. “You survived Malfor. We all did.”

A momentary silence falls over the room at the mention of that name. It’s the shadow that connects us all—the shared trauma that brought each of us into the orbit of Guardian HRS and the men of Charlie team.

“Does it ever get easier?” I ask quietly. “Knowing what they do? Where they go?”

Sophia’s expression softens. “Not easier, exactly. You learn to live with it. The first time Blake went on a mission after we got together, I barely slept,” she continues. “Kept imagining the worst.”

“Walt texts when he can,” Malia says. “Not details, just… confirmation he’s still breathing. It helps.”

“Ethan calls,” Rebel adds. “Even if it’s just for thirty seconds. Says hearing my voice keeps him centered. He calls Violet and Zephyr too,” she adds, glancing at her sister. “Makes sure they’re safe.”

Violet nods. “He’s been amazing with Zephyr. She adores her Uncle Ethan.”

“Rigel leaves notes,” Mia says with a small smile. “Hidden all over our place for me to find while he’s gone. Little reminders he’s coming back.”

I absorb their words, these women who have walked this path before me.

“How do you bear it? The waiting, the not knowing?”

“Together,” Malia says simply, reaching for my hand. “That’s why we’re here. Charlie’s Angels, remember? We hold each other up when they can’t be here to hold us.”

“It gets easier when you accept that they’re extraordinary men doing extraordinary things,” Mia says. “And that they chose us because we’re extraordinary too, in our own ways.”

“I’m just a physicist,” I murmur.

“Just a physicist,” Rebel scoffs.

I can’t help but laugh at her tone.

“You survived Malfor,” Sophia says softly. “That already makes you stronger than most people will ever need to be.”

“I suppose so,” I acknowledge, looking around at these remarkable women .

“To survival,” Malia says, raising her glass again. “And to the men crazy enough to love women who refuse to break.”

We all drink to that.

“Enough serious talk,” Rebel declares, grabbing the remote. “What are we watching? Something mindless with hot men?”

“Or,” Malia interjects with a mischievous glint in her eye, “what about P.O.R.N.? We could watch some threesomes and give Ally a leg up on her men. Give her some ideas of what to do.”

I choke on my wine and throw a handful of popcorn at her. “Malia!”

“What?” she asks innocently, scooting forward eagerly. “I really want to know how it all works. Like, where do they put it? One at a time, or…” Her eyes widen dramatically. “Two at the same time???”

The room erupts in laughter while my face burns hotter than the reactor I was working on for Malfor.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Sophia assures me, though her eyes are equally curious.

“Seriously though,” Rebel says, leaning forward, “is it one in front, one in back? Or do they take turns?”

“There’s oral, too,” Malia says mischievously. “A blowy for one?—”

“Oh my God,” I groan, burying my face in a throw pillow. “Malia, you are the worst.”

“Hey, we’ve all wondered,” Jenna admits. “I mean, Carter alone is… a lot to handle. I can’t imagine two.”

“I bet you get double the orgasms.” Malia’s impish smile returns. “I mean, these guys have stamina, but two stallions in bed? I bet you’re coming all the time.”

“I’m dead. I’m officially dead.” My cheeks feel positively radioactive.

“Walt took forever to make a move,” Malia sighs dramatically. “I thought I’d be a virgin forever, but he’s excellent at seeing to my needs.”

Mia’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Walt was your first?”

“He had to take a bullet, and I had to survive a kidnapping before he popped my cherry,” Malia confirms with a laugh. “Talk about playing hard to get.”

“On his part,” Sophia adds with a smirk.

“Exactly!” Malia points at her approvingly before turning back to me. “So, Ally. Two at once? Is that even physically possible?”

I clear my throat and reach for the remote. “So, movie choices? I vote for something with absolutely no connection to our current lives. Maybe a period drama?”

“Nice try,” Malia says, plucking the remote from my hand and passing it back to Rebel. “But you’re not getting off that easy.”

“Can we please just pick a movie?” I plead, looking around for support.

“Nothing with explosions,” Mia reminds her.

“Or kidnappings,” Sophia adds with a grimace.

“Or scientists being tortured for their knowledge,” I contribute, only half-joking.

“Does anyone want to circle back to the threesome mechanics?” Malia asks, wiggling her eyebrows. “Because I have follow-up questions.”

“Like what?” Violet asks, looking genuinely curious.

“Like do they… you know… kiss each other too?”

I take a large gulp of wine. “I am not drunk enough for this conversation.”

“That’s a yes,” Rebel concludes, high-fiving Malia.

“No,” I blurt out, surprising myself with my suddenness. “No, they do not kiss. They’re not into each other like that. They’re just two Doms who are into me.”

“Doms!” Malia’s grin is positively wicked. “I bet they’re ‘into’ you, all right.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “So tell us, one at a time? Or both at once?”

“If we’re doing kink confessions,” Jenna says with surprising boldness, “Carter has this thing for tying me up.”

“Carter?” Malia gasps in mock horror. “Mr. By-the-book? I never would have guessed.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Sophia agrees with a knowing smile. “ Blake likes to blindfold me,” she admits after a moment. “It helps me focus on feeling instead of thinking.”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Malia holds up her hands. “Are we all dating kinky men? Is that part of the Charlie team training regimen? Okay, let’s take a poll: how many of your men spank you?”

Nearly all our hands go up, including mine. I mean, so far, it’s been a light attention-getting tap, but I have a feeling things will evolve if I allow it.

The laughter that follows breaks whatever remaining tension exists in the room.

“Rigel speaks Mandarin during… you know,” Mia confesses, her cheeks pink. “It’s surprisingly hot.”

All eyes turn to me expectantly.

“Fine,” I sigh, giving in. “Yes, they both… participate fully. At the same time. No, they don’t engage with each other. And yes, I probably get double the orgasms, but…”

“I knew it!” Malia pumps her fist triumphantly.

Max suddenly yawns loudly, stretching out along the floor with dramatic flair as if adding his own commentary to the conversation. The timing is so perfect that we all burst into laughter.

“Even Max thinks we need to change the subject,” Jenna says, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

“What about a romantic comedy?” Malia suggests. “Something where the biggest danger is embarrassment at a wedding?”

“Perfect,” Rebel agrees, scrolling through options.

As they debate movie choices, I sink deeper into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of these women who understand exactly what it means to love men like Hank and Gabe. For the first time since their departure, the knot of anxiety in my chest begins to loosen.

Malia catches my eye and winks. “Welcome to the family, Ally,” she whispers. “Charlie’s Angels stick together.”

Family.

The word settles around me like a blanket. I’ve been so focused on what I’ve lost—my research, my freedom, my sense of security—that I hadn’t considered what I might have gained. A family forged in fire, women who understand the darkest parts of my experience without explanation.

As Rebel finally selects a movie and the opening credits begin to roll, Malia drapes her legs across my lap, Sophia passes me more wine, and Jenna tosses a blanket over us. Max settles with a contented sigh at our feet, his warm weight a comforting presence against my legs. I find myself smiling, genuinely smiling, for the first time since Hank and Gabe left.

“They’re going to be fine, you know,” Malia whispers as if reading my thoughts. “Charlie team always comes home.”

“Always,” Sophia echoes firmly.

As if agreeing, Max lifts his head to look at me, his intelligent eyes somehow reassuring, before he rests his muzzle on my foot.

I nod, letting myself believe them. Tonight, surrounded by my newfound sisters and one protective German Shepherd, I’ll choose hope over fear.

Tomorrow will bring what it brings, but tonight, I’m exactly where I need to be—among Charlie’s Angels, my unexpected family, waiting together for our men to return.