Page 49 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

“Damn straight, you did.”

“I just…” His voice cracks. “When I think about what that bastard might be doing to her, when I imagine her scared and alone, I want to tear the world apart.”

It’s not a complete apology. The hurt between us is still too fresh, the words we used as weapons still too sharp. But it’s an acknowledgment. Recognition that our personal damage matters less than getting Ally back safely.

“We’ve been partners for years,” I finally say. “Sharing everything. Women, missions, life-and-death situations. We don’t let one crisis destroy that.”

“Even after I acted like a possessive asshole?”

“Even then.”

We stand there for a moment, two damaged men in a room full of memories, trying to figure out how to be whole again when everything between us has shifted.

The silence stretches, filled with the distant sound of waves and unspoken understanding. We’re both thinking about her.About the way she looks between us in this bed, safe and satisfied and home. About the trust she’s placed in us and how catastrophically we’ve failed to protect it.

My phone buzzes, cutting through the quiet. Ethan’s name is on the screen.

“Ethan.”

“Time for a road trip,” his voice is carefully neutral. “Remember that place Doc Summers mentioned? The one with the good acoustics?”

Insanity. The beach below Angel Fire’s group home. Where sound carries differently, where conversations can’t be overheard.

“How long?”

“Now would be good.”

The line goes dead.

I look at Gabe. “Ethan needs us. Now.”

Understanding flickers in his eyes. Whatever Ethan has planned, whatever solution he’s found to our communications problem, it’s time.

We move through the house, gathering what we need for an extended absence.

As we head for the door, I take one last look around. At Ally’s coffee mug and reading glasses. At the sweater that still smells like her perfume. At all the small traces of the life we’ve built together.

“We’ll bring her home,” Gabe says, following my gaze.

“Yes,” I agree. “Wewill.”

Because the alternative—a future without her laughter in this kitchen, without her body warm between us in that bed, without her presence filling every corner of this house—is unthinkable.

SEVENTEEN

Punishment Protocol

ALLY

Dreams of homeshatter as the overhead lights snap on without warning. My muscles contract automatically, my body remembering pain before my brain fully wakes. The collar feels heavier today. The metal edge digs into the raw skin of my throat.

It’s been two days since Malfor’s revelation about the nanobots. Despite my best efforts, I’m no closer to figuring out how to use that knowledge to our benefit. There has to be a way to send a message. Warn Guardian HRS about the nanobots.

Three hours of sleep. Maybe four. Not enough to clear the fog of yesterday’s work from my brain, not enough to steady my hands or ease the throbbing behind my eyes.

Across the cellblock, Stitch is already awake, standing at her bars. Our gazes meet through the narrow spaces between cells. Something shifts in her expression—a subtle tightening around the mouth, a glint in her eyes that wasn’t there yesterday.

My stomach twists. She’s taken a risk, and from the almost imperceptible nod she gives me, it was calculated.