Page 50 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

Two Weeks Later

The setting sun cast long golden rays through the open hangar bay, painting everything in warm amber light.

Finn stood at the threshold between the celebration inside and the quiet evening beyond, nursing a sparkling water he’d barely touched.

From this vantage point, he could observe the entire gathering while maintaining a comfortable distance—close enough to participate if engaged, far enough to slip away unnoticed if necessary.

An exit strategy. Always have one.

He winced slightly as he shifted his weight, the movement pulling at the bandages beneath his button-down shirt.

Two weeks since taking a bullet to the chest during what should have been a routine protection detail.

Two weeks since waking up in the hospital with Zara asleep in the chair beside his bed, her hand somehow finding his even in slumber.

The doctors had called his survival miraculous—the bullet missing his heart by centimeters.

, though it had collapsed his left lung and shattered two ribs on its destructive path.

His gaze inevitably found Zara across the room, her head thrown back in genuine laughter at something Izzy had said.

That’s when he truly realized it.

He loved her. Zara Khoury.

The very woman he’d betrayed.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

Three steps. That’s all it would take to slip through the hangar door and disappear into the evening. A clean break, no messy goodbyes, no lingering looks that would only make things harder for both of them. He could be halfway to anywhere by morning.

It would be easier that way. For everyone.

Yet he remained, adjusting his position to ease the persistent pain in his chest, telling himself he should at least wait for the buffet to open, knowing it was an excuse to absorb a few more precious minutes of this—of belonging, however temporarily, to something larger than himself.

Of being in her orbit, even at a distance.

“Planning your escape route?” came a quiet voice from beside him.

Finn turned—carefully, to avoid pulling at his still-healing wound—to find Griffin, the team’s most reserved member, regarding him with an unreadable expression.

“Just appreciating the view,” Finn replied neutrally, automatically straightening despite the protest from his chest.

Griffin snorted, his gaze following Finn’s previous line of sight directly to Zara. “Sure you are.” His eyes dropped briefly to Finn’s chest. “Doctor clear you for this? Last I heard, you weren’t supposed to be out of the hospital for another week.”

Finn shrugged, immediately regretting the movement. “I signed myself out. This welcome-back party was too important to miss.”

“The party’s for you, genius,” Griffin said dryly. “Hard to have a welcome-back celebration without the guest of honor.”

Finn didn’t bother responding. “She’s happy here,” he said instead, his eyes finding Zara again.

“We all are,” Griffin said simply, taking a swig of his sparkling water. “It’s home.”

The statement, delivered without emphasis, nonetheless struck Finn with unexpected force.

Home. The one thing he’d never quite managed to find anywhere—not in his childhood house with parents who viewed him as a disappointment, not in the military where he’d excelled but remained apart, not even in his faith community where he’d found purpose but never truly connection.

Before he could formulate a response, the music cut out, replaced by feedback squeal of a microphone. All heads turned toward the small stage where Ethan Rodriguez, who had appointed himself DJ for the evening, was reluctantly surrendering control to Ronan.

“Killing the vibe here, people,” Ronan announced, his typically confident demeanor showing unusual signs of nervousness. “Promise to make it quick so Ethan can get back to his elevator music collection.”

“Hey!” Ethan protested. “That’s premium playlist curation!”

“For a retirement home, maybe,” Kenji called out, generating a ripple of laughter.

Ronan grinned, then glanced to his side where Maya had joined him, her composed expression belied by the anxiety in her eyes. “Maya and I have news,” he continued, reaching for her hand. “After sneaking around for nearly two years?—”

“Sneaking?” Griffin muttered beside Finn. “We ran a betting pool from week one.”

“—we’re engaged,” Ronan finished, his usually stern face transformed by genuine joy.

Cheers erupted throughout the hangar, along with several good-natured whoops and hands exchanging money as various betting debts were settled.

“That’s not all,” Maya added, her voice carrying a hint of amusement despite her obvious nervousness. “We’ve been trying to reach our parents for days. Turns out my father is ‘pursuing a lead on a cold case’ and ‘will call when he can,’” she continued, making air quotes.

“And my mother is ‘on location for an exclusive interview’ and will ‘touch base when the story wraps,’” Ronan added, mimicking Victoria’s crisp, authoritative tone with surprising accuracy.

Finn noticed Zara shaking her head with what appeared to be equal parts exasperation and affection at the mention of Ronan’s mother’s name.

“So congrats to us,” Maya concluded, leaning into Ronan’s side. “From our Knight Tactical family, who apparently knew before we did anyway.”

Another round of cheers followed, interrupted by the hangar door slamming open with a metallic bang.

Two figures strode in with perfect timing—a striking woman with silver-streaked dark hair and the poised confidence that came from decades interviewing world leaders, and a distinguished Asian man in his sixties with the watchful eyes and alert posture that marked him instantly as a veteran detective.

The entire room fell silent instantly, all conversation halting as everyone registered the newcomers’ identities.

“Did we miss the big announcement?” the woman called out, her broadcasting-perfect voice carrying effortlessly across the space.

“Mom?” Ronan looked stunned, his usual composure completely shattered.

“Victoria,” Admiral Knight recovered first from the surprise entrance. “Your timing is impeccable, as always.”

“Twenty-five years in television news,” Victoria Quinn—the renowned journalist whose interviews with presidents and prime ministers had earned her multiple awards—replied with a smile that had disarmed dictators. “You learn to make an entrance.”

Beside her, Lawrence Chen—Maya’s father and one of LAPD’s most decorated former detectives—surveyed the room.

“Dad?” Maya managed, equally stunned. “Your voicemail said you were tracking down a witness in Arizona!”

“I was following a lead,” Lawrence replied with the faintest hint of a smile. “Just not the kind I usually pursue.”

It took a moment for his meaning to register, during which Victoria casually—almost theatrically—raised her left hand to reveal a simple platinum band glinting in the hangar lights.

“You’re—” Maya began.

“No way,” Ronan finished, his usual eloquence deserting him entirely.

“We eloped,” Victoria announced with the direct delivery that had made her famous in broadcast journalism. “Santa Barbara. Last weekend.”

Lawrence nodded agreement. “After thirty years interviewing people about their regrets, your mother decided not to have any of her own.”

For three heartbeats, absolute silence reigned. Then the room exploded.

“Oh my goodness!” Izzy exclaimed, recovering first.

“Gracious,” Axel muttered automatically, though he looked equally shocked.

Ronan remained frozen, his expression cycling through disbelief, shock, and something that might have been cautious joy before settling into stunned acceptance.

“Mom,” he finally managed. “You got married and didn’t tell me?”

“Would you have believed me if I’d called with the news?”

“Absolutely not,” Ronan admitted after a moment’s consideration.

“Hence the in-person reveal,” Lawrence explained with the pragmatism of a man who had built a career on evidence rather than conjecture.

Ronan turned to Maya, both still processing this unexpected development. “So we’re ...”

“Step-siblings,” Maya confirmed, looking equally bewildered. “I guess?”

“Well,” Kenji announced loudly, “I just lost fifty dollars on Ronan and Maya’s engagement timeline, but goodness, I should’ve put money on Victoria and Lawrence. That would’ve funded my next three vacations.”

“You knew?” Axel demanded.

“Definitely not,” Kenji replied. “But the signs were there if you paid attention. Lawrence appearing at three of Victoria’s speaking engagements in the past year.

Victoria’s unexpected interest in cold case documentaries.

Plus they’ve been finishing each other’s sentences since that fundraiser last Christmas. ”

“You noticed their sentence structure?” Griffin asked incredulously.

“I notice everything,” Kenji replied with dignity. “It’s called situational awareness.”

The unexpected family development transformed the already festive atmosphere into something approaching controlled chaos.

Finn watched as Ronan moved to embrace his mother—awkwardly at first, then with genuine warmth, their physical resemblance striking despite Victoria’s more polished appearance.

Something wistful crossed Zara’s expression as she congratulated both couples.

He would give anything to be the source of that happiness for her. But it wasn’t his to give. Never had been.

“Finn.”

He turned—too quickly, sending a stab of pain through his ribs—to find Admiral Knight approaching alongside Jack Reese.

Their expressions were serious enough to immediately put him on guard.

His muscles tensed instinctively as he prepared for—what?

Dismissal? A polite but firm suggestion that his time with Knight Tactical had reached its natural conclusion now that he was injured?

“Sir,” he acknowledged, straightening automatically despite the protest from his wounds. “Jack.”

Reese shook his head. “Dude.”

“At ease before you pull your stitches,” the Admiral said dryly.

Finn forced himself to relax, though wariness remained. “Two senior officers cornering me during my welcome-back party? Can’t blame me for checking exit routes.”

Admiral Knight’s mouth quirked slightly. “Good instincts. Part of why we want you.”

“Want me?” Finn echoed, genuinely confused.

“Knight Tactical. Permanent position,” the Admiral stated bluntly. “Your skills are wasted anywhere else.”

“Even when applied to taking bullets meant for team members,” Jack added, his expression caught between seriousness and admiration.

“Especially then,” Ronin confirmed as he approached and joined in the conversation. “Anyone who would step in front of gunfire for one of our own belongs with us.”

Finn blinked, certain he’d misheard. “You’re offering me a position. After I nearly got myself killed on my first official mission?”

“We prefer to call it ‘demonstrating exceptional commitment,’” the Admiral replied, completely straight-faced.

“I—” Finn began, then stopped, genuinely at a loss for words.

“One condition,” Ronan added, his tone deliberately casual. “Zara’s approval. It’s her team you’d be joining.”

And there it was—the complication that overshadowed everything else. Zara. Would she want him as a permanent fixture in her work life? In her personal orbit? After everything they’d been through, after he’d nearly died protecting her, would she choose to keep him close or maintain a safe distance?

“Think about it,” Admiral Knight said, correctly interpreting Finn’s hesitation. “Offer stands.”

As they headed back inside, Finn felt a curious mixture of hope and trepidation washing through him. A permanent position. A chance to belong. A reason to stay.

But only if she wanted him to.

He closed his eyes briefly, familiar words of scripture rising unbidden in his mind. Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to hope—not with certainty, but with quiet trust in whatever came next.

Taking a deep breath—wincing slightly at the pull on his stitches—he stepped away from the hangar door and back into the celebration. No more exit strategies. Not tonight.

Tonight, he would stay. Tomorrow was up to Zara.