Residence, Third Floor 12:07 PM
When Elias kicked the door closed, the sudden quiet was so intense that it made him stagger. He leaned against the wood, shut his eyes tightly, and struggled to recall how to breathe, as if everything had gone completely wrong.
He heard Emma's quiet, pained sobs.
"Daddy…?"
She was curled up, looking much younger than her age.
He crossed the room in three steps and knelt. She embraced him as he knelt. Tears made it hard for her to breathe.
"I saw it," she whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I watched Uncle Greg fall, and blood came, and—and—"
"Hush, little one, hush." He soothed her the way he always did when she was scared of the creatures in her dreams. But the monster was actually there, and it possessed a rifle. "I've got you. Daddy's got you."
The fourteen-year-old Lucas, all limbs and newly tall, was still positioned by the window. Even though his hands remained pressed against the glass, he was visibly tense, with his shoulders raised and his breathing shallow.
Elias looked over Emma's trembling back. "Lucas?"
Lucas didn't turn around. His voice came out thin, too high, trying to be steady and missing by a mile.
".300 Norma or .338 Lapua," he rattled off, like reciting ammo specs could make the world make sense again. "Subsonic. He—he compensated for the wind. That's why it hit center mass."
Emma sobbed brokenly and snuggled closer to Elias.
"Buddy, come here—"
"You were the target," Lucas blurted, turning around at last. His eyes were wide and shiny, and he was biting his lip hard. "The angle. The way Uncle Gregory moved. They wanted you, Dad."
His voice cracked on the last word, and he folded in half like someone had punched him, arms wrapped around his stomach.
Nadia appeared before Elias could react, placing herself between her children and any danger. She knelt and seamlessly took Emma, then sat Lucas down. Both children were suddenly pressed against her, and her arms formed a strong barrier.
"Listen," she said, her voice low and intense, but shaky. "I'm going with you, or you're staying here."
Emma couldn't speak because she was crying too hard. Lucas slightly nodded against his mother's shoulder.
She kissed their heads and urged them towards the agents. Park held Emma's trembling hand. Delgado gently touched Lucas's neck. The door clicked shut.
The hallway felt colder.
Elias caught Nadia before she could walk. He gripped her wrist tightly, and they didn't mind.
"Nadia—"
She turned so fast, her hair lashed his cheek. Her eyes were dry and blazing, but her mouth was shaking.
"I retired," she whispered, stepping into him until her chest brushed his. "I never cut them loose."
Her forehead gently touched his. "Twelve people who would follow me into hell with a smile. I called at two today."
Her fingers curled into his lapel, over the drying flecks of Gregory's blood.
"If I have to call the other ten," she said, voice splintering, "I will turn this continent into a funeral pyre."
She rose on her toes, lips a breath away from his, trembling.
"Anyone who touches our babies will pay the price," she said, her voice filled with rage. At last, a tear escaped, warm on her face, and then landed on his skin. "I will shield you from all threats."
Elias caught the tear with his thumb, the wetness of it a stark contrast against his rough skin, and smeared it across her cheekbone.
"Feel that?" he whispered. "That's you still being human. Let me carry it for five goddamn seconds."
"I can't," she choked. "If I start shaking I won't stop."
"Then shake against me." He slid his hands into her hair, angled her face to his. "I'm still here, Nad. I'm still breathing. And I'm not going anywhere."
She inhaled again, a sharp intake of breath that sounded like it stung.
"I watched Gregory die right beside you," she whispered, her voice cracking as if the words themselves were wounds. "If the next bullet finds its mark—"
"I assure you, there will be no more bullets," he declared. Before she could argue, his kiss was a desperate act, conveying every last, frantic heartbeat. She kissed him back, a passionate embrace that made it seem like she was trying to keep his heart safe.
They broke apart, trembling and breathless, their foreheads touching, and their mingled breath hung in the air.
"I love you so much, it's a weapon," she whispered against his lips. "And right now I'm pointing it at the whole fucking world."
"If you must, pull the trigger," he whispered. "But come back to me after. Promise me you come back to me."
She kissed him again—slower, deeper, a vow sealed in salt and terror and twenty years of choosing each other when the world kept trying to tear them apart.
Her eyes were steady when she pulled away, though her voice still trembled like a leaf in the wind. "Always," she said. "I always come back to you."