POV Noelle
“Mrs. Tate, sit down,” Vale snaps. “You’re not authorized for field engagement.”
I stand in the middle of the operations room, trembling but defiant. Monitors flicker with static and coordinates—somewhere on the eastern docks, a live signal pulses weakly. It’s Owen’s tracker. Or what’s left of it.
“I’m not asking for authorization,” I say. “I’m asking for directions.”
Vale crosses her arms. “You’re emotional. That’s not strategy.”
“Neither is watching him die,” I bite back.
“Listen to yourself,” she hisses. “He’s a trained operative—”
“He’s my husband!” The words crack through the room. Everyone stops moving. Even the hum of the monitors seems to pause.
Vale’s eyes narrow. “He made his choice when he went dark. You stay out, or I’ll have you detained.”
I take a step forward, lowering my voice so only she hears me. “Try it.”
Something in my tone must convince her I mean it. She doesn’t move. She just mutters, “You’ll get yourself killed.”
“Then at least I’ll die doing something.”
Rhea’s waiting by the service exit, gear already slung across her shoulder. “So I’m guessing Vale didn’t bless this field trip?”
“She threatened to handcuff me,” I say, yanking my coat on.
Rhea smirks. “I like this version of you. Let’s go steal your husband back.”
“Who else is in?”
“Julian’s hotwiring the van, and Doc Rivera’s loading supplies.”
I blink. “Doc’s coming?”
“He insisted. Said someone has to patch up the idiot when we find him.”
“Find him,” I repeat softly, the word tasting fragile.
Rhea catches it. “We will. You hear me? We will.”
I nod, but the hollow thrum in my chest doesn’t ease.
Outside, the night smells like metal and fear. Rain streaks the pavement, washing the city’s sins into the gutters. Julian leans against the van, chewing gum like he’s starring in a crime movie.
“Took you long enough,” he says. “Vale sent her dogs yet?”
“She blinked first.”
He grins. “That’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl,” I mutter, climbing in.
He shrugs. “Tonight you’re everyone’s boss. Let’s roll.”
Doc Rivera sits in the back, pale but focused. His medical bag rattles with every bump in the road. “Vitals kit, adrenaline, trauma spray,” he murmurs like a prayer. “We’ll need it.”
I glance at him in the rearview mirror. “You think he’s still alive?”
He doesn’t lie. “If it’s Owen, he’s fighting.”
Rhea starts the engine. “Then let’s make sure he has something worth fighting for.”
The city lights blur as we speed through the wet streets. Julian drives like sin in a suit—reckless, controlled, unafraid of death because he’s never truly met it. Rhea checks weapons beside him. Doc hums an old tune under his breath. And me?
I record. The phone shakes in my hand as I open the camera. Luna’s picture flashes on the lock screen—her smile so bright it hurts.
“Start,” I whisper, hitting record.
For a moment, I can’t find my voice. The van hums around me, the rain tapping like impatient fingers against the glass. Finally, I speak.
“Hi, my love,” I whisper. “It’s Mommy.”
Julian glances at me through the rearview mirror but says nothing.
“I know you’re probably with Maria right now,” I continue softly, “and she’s singing those lullabies I always forget the words to. I just… I need you to know something before I go.”
My throat tightens, but I keep going. “Sometimes, when you’re older, you’ll read stories about people who were brave. They always make it sound easy. It’s not. It’s scary, Luna. Mommy’s scared all the time.”
Doc’s hand brushes mine, steadying me without a word.
“But bravery,” I whisper, “is just doing what you have to, even when you’re terrified.”
I force a breath. “Right now, Mommy’s going to bring Daddy home. Because that’s what love is—it’s loud, it’s messy, it’s stubborn. And no matter what happens, I want you to know that everything we did… was for you.”
Rhea’s voice cuts through softly. “We’re ten minutes out.”
I nod, keeping the phone steady. “Daddy always told me I was the strong one. He lied. He’s the one who taught me how to fight. So tonight, I’m going to remind him.”
Julian mutters, “Hell of a speech, sweetheart.”
“Shut up,” I whisper, blinking fast.
I look straight into the lens, my voice shaking. “If you ever wonder what kind of man your father was… he was the kind who never gave up, even when the world begged him to. He loved us so much it broke him, but he never stopped trying to make us safe.”
Rhea slows at a red light that means nothing at this hour. The glow paints her face crimson. “You should wrap it up,” she murmurs.
I nod, tears finally spilling. “Mommy’s just going to bring Daddy home,” I whisper, smiling through it. “And when we do, we’ll watch the moon together again, like we used to. Remember how you said it follows us everywhere?”
The van jolts over a bump. The screen flickers.
“Because it does,” I whisper. “It always will. The moon always finds its way back.”
Static hums from the phone’s speaker—the signal wavering in and out as we near the docks.
I whisper the next words barely audible. “And if—”
The line cuts. The screen freezes mid-sentence. Rhea glances back. “You lost connection.”
I stare at the black screen, fingers trembling. “Good. She doesn’t need to hear the rest.”
Julian drives faster. “ETA five minutes.”
Doc leans forward. “Heart rate?”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Liar,” he mutters, checking his med kit again. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m alive,” I whisper. “That’s enough.”
The rain thickens, hammering against the windshield. Through the fogged glass, I see the warehouse lights flickering in the distance—broken teeth against the horizon.
Rhea loads her pistol, her voice flat but steady. “Vale’s going to call this treason.”
“She can call it love,” I say. “The effect’s the same.”
Julian whistles low. “Remind me never to cross you.”
“You already did,” I murmur, staring at the lights. “And look where you are now.”
He laughs softly. “Driving you to hell.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Don’t miss the turn.”
As the van skids to a stop behind a stack of rusted containers, I see men patrolling in the rain—Silas’s guards. Their silhouettes move like shadows birthed from smoke.
Rhea hands me an earpiece. “Stay behind me. No heroics.”
“Too late,” I say, tucking the small pistol into my coat.
Julian checks his watch. “We’ve got maybe eight minutes before Vale tracks our GPS.”
“Then we do this in seven,” Rhea says.
Doc zips his bag shut, jaw clenched. “Bring him to me alive. That’s all I ask.”
I open the van door. The rain hits me like a thousand needles, cold and relentless. Somewhere in that maze of metal and concrete, Owen is waiting—broken, bleeding, alive.
The thought steadies me. I pull my hood up and look at the others. “We move now.”
Julian grins. “Guess the queen’s done waiting.”
I meet his gaze. “The queen’s taking back her king.”
Rhea opens the gate. The storm swallows us whole. Behind me, the phone lies dark, the last words still unsaid. Mommy’s just going to bring Daddy home.