Page 163 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

Walt crosses to where Malia sits nursing her coffee, still moving carefully due to lingering concussion effects. She looks up as his shadow falls across her table, and her face transforms with relief so pure it takes my breath away.

“Walt.” His name comes out like a prayer.

He doesn’t speak, just pulls her to her feet and into his arms, massive frame enveloping her completely. She disappears against his chest, and I hear her muffled sob of relief.

“Shh,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “I’m here. I’m home.”

“I was so scared,” she whispers. “When my head got scrambled, I kept forgetting things, but I never forgot being afraid you wouldn’t come back.”

“I’ll always come back to you.” His hands cradle her head with infinite gentleness. “Always.”

Blake finds Sophia near the pastry case, gathering her into his arms. Their reunion is quieter but no less intense, hands checking for injuries that aren’t there, eyes confirming what words can’t quite capture.

Rigel finds Mia, gathering her into his arms. She melts against him, fingers tracing the line of his jaw like she’s memorizing features she was afraid she might never see again.

Stitch rises carefully from her window seat, moving toward Jeb. He meets her halfway, movements equally careful as they navigate the space between independence and need for comfort.

“How’s the pain?” Jeb asks, studying her face.

“Manageable.” She leans into his touch, allowing him to support the weight she’s been carrying alone. “Better now that you’re back.”

“Did you—” Malia starts, then stops, shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t want details. I just want to know it’s over.”

“It’s over,” Gabe confirms, still holding me. “Malfor’s dead. His operation’s destroyed. It’s finished.”

The words settle over the café like a benediction. We’re safe. Our men are home. The monster who haunted our dreams has been eliminated.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice cuts through our reunions. “Looks like everyone made it back from their—vacation.” Forest stands in the doorway, flanked by Sam and CJ, all three wearing expressions that suggest they know exactly where their operators have been and what they’ve been doing.

“Forest,” Ethan acknowledges.

“Ethan.” Forest’s smile holds approval. “I trust everyone enjoyed their time off? Heard Montenegro’s lovely this time of year.”

The statement hangs in the air, heavy with implications.

They know. Of course, they know.

“Very relaxing,” Gabe responds with deadpan delivery that makes several people smile. “Highly recommend the local hospitality.”

“I’m sure.” Sam steps forward, studying faces. “Any injuries requiring medical attention? Things that might need documenting?”

“Nothing that won’t heal with time and proper rest,” Carter responds carefully.

“Good.” CJ’s massive frame fills the doorway behind the other two, arms crossed in approval rather than confrontation. “Because it would be a shame if any of our operators were hurt during their well-deservedvacation time.”

The message comes through clearly—what happened in Montenegro stays in Montenegro, but Guardian HRS supports their people even when those people operate outside official sanction.

“Speaking of rest,” CJ continues, surveying the group, “I’m declaring mandatory downtime for everyone involved in recentvacationingevents. No missions, no training, no obligations beyond healing and spending time with the people who matter.”

“How long?” Ethan asks.

“Until I’m satisfied that everyone’s ready to return to duty.” CJ’s tone warns against contradiction. “Could be a week, could be a month. Depends on how well you take care of yourselves and each other.”

“That’s very generous,” Ghost observes.

“We take care of our people,” Forest corrects. “All of our people. Including our friends from Cerberus who happened tobevacationingin the same neighborhood Charlie team was chilling at, and forassistingwhat I’m sure was a completely coincidental encounter.”

“Very coincidental,” Brass agrees with a straight face that fools no one.