Page 165 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

“Complete network collapse,” Mitzy finishes, her grin turning predatory. “But Ally, our Trojan horse worked differently, but nearly the same. Or rather, had the same end effect. We infected nanobots themselves with corrupted instructions that made them physically destroy their quantum entanglement.”

“So my disruption severed the quantum connections from the control side,” I realize, “while your payload destroyed the physical entanglement nodes from the nanobot side.”

“Exactly. Double cascade failure—you cut the quantum strings while we destroyed the instruments making the music. Your decoherence protocol prevented any nanobots from reestablishing contact with the network, while our payload made sure they physically couldn’t even if they tried.”

“Belt and suspenders approach to quantum warfare,” I murmur. “Attack the same system from both the software and hardware levels simultaneously.”

“Completely obliterated,” Mitzy confirms. “Every nanobot globally was hit by both attacks at once. We couldn’t have planned it better if we’d actually collaborated on it. What are the odds?”

“You’re certain the entanglement can’t be reestablished?” I ask.

“You’d know best. I’ll show you what we did in the lab, and you can tell us, but I have a feeling physics doesn’t lie,” Mitzy replies. “Even if Malfor survived, he’d need to rebuild everything from scratch—new nanobots, new quantum hardware, new entanglement protocols. Your disruption erased the software architecture while our payload destroyed the physical infrastructure. Complete annihilation.”

“So Guardian HRS is clean?”

“Every system is verified and operational. The espresso machine working perfectly isn’t a coincidence—it’s proof that every trace of contamination has been eliminated.”

The scientific confirmation settles something deep in my chest.

“Then it’s really over.”

“The technical threat is completely neutralized,” Mitzy confirms. “Your unwitting role as a carrier has been permanently severed. You’re free, Ally. We all are.”

I lean back against Gabe, processing the information with the methodical approach of a physicist solving complex equations. Guilt transforms into understanding, and self-blame into acceptance of circumstances beyond my control.

“I should have figured it out sooner,” I murmur.

“Quantum-level surveillance was theoretical before this,” Mitzy replies. “Even I didn’t recognize the signatures until we had intact specimens. You couldn’t have known what to look for.”

“Besides,” Gabe adds, his voice rough with emotion, “you did figure it out. Your sabotage in captivity helped us locate you and develop countermeasures. You turned his weapons against him.”

“We’re a good team.” Mitzy grins. “Theoretical quantum physicist meets practical systems engineer. We should publish a paper about this someday. ‘Quantum Surveillance Networks: Detection, Analysis, and Destruction.’”

Despite everything, I laugh. “Think we’ll get citations?”

“We’ll get classified,” Mitzy replies. “But yeah, definitely citations.”

The conversation ends with technical satisfaction and emotional resolution I didn’t know I needed. The nanobots are gone. The network is destroyed. My role as an unwitting weapon has been permanently severed.

I’m finally free to be just Ally again.

“Anyway…” Mitzy pulls her coffee to her chest. “We, meaning leadership, have a shit ton of work to do after Charlie team’svacation.I’m very sorry about Hank. My deepest condolences. He will be missed.”

“Thanks.” My eyes mist, but I manage a small smile. He will be missed, but that just means none of us will ever forget him. He lives on in our hearts and our memories.

Gabe’s arms tighten around me as Mitzy leaves.

The door closes behind Guardian HRS leadership, leaving us alone with coffee, reunions, and the knowledge that sometimes the system works exactly as it should.

I lean back against Gabe’s chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong. Around us, conversations resume as couples reconnect and families restore themselves. The café fills with warmth that has nothing to do with coffee and everything to do with love that survived separation.

“I missed you,” I tell Gabe quietly.

“I missed you more.” His lips brush against my ear. “It’s over, Ally. Really, and truly over.”

I turn in his arms, study his face for signs of trauma or unresolved anger. What I find instead is peace, not healed, maybe never fully healed from losing Hank, but settled. The weight of vengeance no longer crushes him.

“What happens now?” I ask.