52. Sarah
SARAH
The cargo aircraft landed in Alaska beneath a gray morning sky.
Rain streaked across the windows.
Beyond the runway waited two unmarked medical transports, three black SUVs, and Captain Sam Cutter.
Sam stood alone near the hangar.
No government officials.
No cameras.
No armed welcoming committee claiming jurisdiction over the survivors.
Only someone Rook trusted.
That was exactly how we wanted it.
The rear ramp lowered.
Cold Alaskan air rushed inside.
Wade stood beside me.
He wore borrowed clothes beneath a heavy jacket. His hair was damp from the shower, and someone had trimmed his beard.
He still looked too thin.
Too tired.
But he looked like my brother again.
Dad stood on his other side.
For once, neither of us argued about who would stay closest to him.
Wade looked toward the open ramp.
“You ready?” I asked.
“No.”
It was the most honest answer he could have given.
I took his hand.
“We can wait.”
He shook his head.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
Eric Hale left first on a stretcher.
Dawson walked beside him.
Grant followed.
Then Jackson.
Medical teams surrounded them without touching anyone until permission was given.
Rook had insisted on that.
No unexpected hands.
No shouted orders.
No one treating the survivors like prisoners again.
Wade stepped onto the ramp.
He stopped halfway down.
Rain touched his face.
He closed his eyes.
No ceiling.
No concrete.
No mountain.
Only clouds and cold water falling from an endless sky.
Dad stood beside him.
“You always hated rain.”
Wade opened his eyes.
“I changed my mind.”
Sam Cutter waited at the bottom of the ramp.
When Wade reached him, Sam held out one hand.
“Welcome home.”
Wade looked at it.
Then pulled Sam into an embrace.
“Thank you.”
Sam’s expression changed.
He patted Wade’s back.
“Your sister did most of the work.”
“I know.”
I folded my arms.
“You could sound a little less surprised.”
Wade smiled.
“She was always difficult.”
Sam laughed.
“She fits right in.”
Shadow Division began unloading equipment.
Sniper and Falcon escorted Reeves toward the first SUV.
Shark and Reef took Madow toward the second.
Neither prisoner spoke.
Their authority had disappeared.
They were only men in restraints now.
Fathom carried the copied evidence inside a reinforced case secured to his wrist.
Cobra followed him carrying three equipment bags and the tactical calculator.
Rook descended last.
His eyes found me immediately.
For one second, the noise around us disappeared.
He looked exhausted.
Bruised.
Alive.
I wanted to cross the runway and throw my arms around him.
Instead, I stayed beside Wade.
This moment belonged to my brother.
Rook seemed to understand.
He nodded once.
I nodded back.
The survivors were taken to a private medical facility arranged through one of Sam’s trusted contacts.
No official records identified the patients.
No government agency knew where they were.
Shadow Division guarded every entrance.
For forty-eight hours, Wade slept more than he spoke.
Doctors treated dehydration, malnutrition, infections, improperly healed fractures, and years of untreated injuries.
Hale underwent surgery.
The doctors believed they could save his leg.
Grant required treatment for nerve damage in his hand.
Dawson had two old fractures that needed to be reset.
Jackson demanded a cheeseburger before allowing anyone to examine him.
Cobra brought him three.
On the third evening, I found Wade sitting beside a large window.
Snow fell beyond the glass.
A tray rested untouched on the table.
I sat beside him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been staring at the same piece of toast for ten minutes.”
“I’m not hungry.”
That frightened me more than I wanted him to know.
“You need to eat.”
“I know.”
I looked toward the window.
“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Wade’s jaw tightened.
For several seconds, he didn’t speak.
Then he whispered, “It’s too quiet.”
I waited.
“At the mountain, quiet meant someone had disappeared. Or the guards were planning something.”
His fingers curled against his knee.
“I keep waiting for the door to open.”
My heart broke.
“Do you want me to stay tonight?”
“You’ve stayed every night.”
“I’ll keep staying.”
“You need sleep.”
“So do you.”
A small smile touched his mouth.
“You sound like Dad.”
“He says I sound like you.”
“That’s worse.”
I rested my head against his shoulder.
“You don’t have to be all right yet.”
“What if I’m never all right?”
“Then we’ll love you anyway.”
His breath caught.
I took his hand.
“You survived the mountain, Wade. You don’t have to survive what comes next alone.”
He looked down at our joined hands.
“I thought about you every day.”
“So did I.”
“They told me you stopped looking.”
“I never did.”
“I know that now.”
He looked toward the snow.
“What happens next?”
“Whatever you need.”
“And Nightfall?”
My expression hardened.
“Shadow Division will handle it.”
“You mean you and Shadow Division.”
“Yes.”
Wade sighed.
“I’m not going to convince you to stop.”
“No.”
“I’m still going to try.”
“I know.”
He finally picked up the toast.
“Bossy.”
“Stubborn.”
“Reckless.”
“Alive.”
His eyes met mine.
“Alive,” he agreed.
Wade took a bite.
I stayed beside him while snow fell outside the window.
After five years of searching, I finally knew where my brother was.
For now, that was enough.