32. Walt
THIRTY-TWO
Walt
In the back of the truck, Malia’s lips find mine with desperate intensity. I pull her close, needing her pressed against me. Her tears dampen my cheeks as we kiss—relief, fear, and joy all mingling together. My hands tremble as I cup her face, still hardly believing she’s here, she’s safe, she’s in my arms.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispers against my mouth. “I never stopped believing.”
The convoy rumbles around the mountain, returning to our mining camp staging area. Malia stays curled against my side, her fingers tangled in my tactical vest as if afraid I’ll disappear. I keep one arm around her, my other hand resting on my weapon—old habits die hard.
Across from us, Hank and Gabe position themselves to either side of Ally. The blonde physicist seems shell-shocked, but something in her posture eases as they bracket her with their protective presence. Hank murmurs something that makes her lips twitch in an almost-smile while Gabe’s hand rests casually on her shoulder, steadying her against the truck’s motion.
The mining facility comes into view as our convoy crests the final ridge. Rufi units bound out to secure the perimeter, their robotic movements eerily graceful against the harsh landscape. I help Malia from the truck, my hands lingering on her waist. Around us, other Guardians assist the hostages, offering steady hands and quiet reassurance. Chen helps his wife while Rodriguez sweeps his daughter into a fierce hug.
The mining camp transforms into a processing center as we debrief the rescued hostages. Medical teams check everyone over while intelligence officers gather preliminary statements. Malia gets pulled away for her medical exam, but her eyes find mine across the Command tent. The moment she’s cleared, she’s back in my arms, her mouth seeking mine with renewed desperation.
She tugs me outside into the biting Kazakhstan wind. Her kisses turn hungry and demanding. When her hands slip beneath my shirt, I catch her wrists.
“Not here,” I murmur against her lips. “Not like this. Your first time deserves better than a frozen mining camp in Kazakhstan.”
“I don’t care where,” she breathes. “I just want you.”
“Soon.” I press my forehead to hers. “I promise. But I’m going to make it perfect.”
Inside, the scientists gather for debriefing. Malikai’s voice carries an edge of warning as he discusses the technology they were forced to develop.
“The power was too unstable, too dangerous,” he explains. “If it had worked… If someone weaponized it—entire cities could have been erased from existence.”
“The quantum cascade effect destroyed everything,” Chen adds, relief evident in his tone. “All our research, all our breakthroughs—gone. And thank God for that. The world isn’t ready for that kind of power.”
“Perhaps some discoveries aren’t meant to be made yet.” Dr. Whittman pulls Ally to his side. He looks down on her with fatherly love. “The world isn’t ready for that kind of power.”
I keep catching glimpses of Gabe and Hank with Ally throughout the evacuation process. The way they move in sync to keep her sheltered from chaos, how naturally they include her in their usual banter. Something is building there—subtle but unmistakable. When she stumbles from exhaustion, they’re both there instantly, supporting her between them.
The camp dismantles with military precision. Equipment disappears into unmarked trucks, evidence of our presence erased as thoroughly as the quantum research. Soon, nothing remains but tire tracks in the frozen ground as our convoy heads toward the airstrip where Guardian HRS’s 747 awaits.
The loading process is efficient, and everyone is eager to leave this place behind. I help Malia up the stairs, unable to resist stealing another kiss once we reach the top.
“Get a room,” Rigel calls out, but his grin is wide as he passes us.
The flight home feels surreal after so much tension and planning. The cabin is filled with quiet conversation and occasional laughter as the adrenaline crash hits.
Our medical team directs the rescued hostages to the onboard facilities—private bathrooms with showers and clean clothes waiting for them. Throughout the long flight home, they emerge transformed, prison grays replaced with civilian comfort.
I catch Ally disappearing into the showers, with Hank and Gabe following close behind.
Malia dozes against my shoulder, her hand resting over my heart as if reassuring herself it still beats. I kiss her hair occasionally, breathing in her scent, still amazed that she’s here.
Malia showers last. She tugs at my hand, her smile soft but insistent, her fingers curling around mine as if she can pull me along by sheer will.
She tilts her head toward the narrow corridor leading to the showers, her cheeks flushed with exhaustion and something else—something raw, unspoken, that latches onto my chest and squeezes.
“Come on,” she whispers, her voice husky and low, meant just for me. Her eyes meet mine, wide and trusting, and that’s what does it—the trust.
“Malia,” I say, my voice rougher than I would like. I lace my fingers with hers, squeezing just enough to keep her tethered to me but not enough to follow her. Her lips part, her brows knitting together in confusion. “You need to go …” I keep my voice steady even as the words catch in my throat. “Alone.”
“Why?”
I exhale hard through my nose, running a hand over my jaw. “Because if I follow you in there…” My voice cuts off. I can’t say it. Can’t give her the weight of that truth, not here, not now.
Her head tilts, her lips pressing into a determined line as she waits, silent but expectant.
I close the space between us, my hands finding her face. Her skin is soft under my calloused palms, her pulse thrumming under my thumb. I press my forehead to hers, letting the steady rhythm of her breaths ground me.
“If I go in there,” I murmur against her skin. “I won’t be able to stop. You deserve more than this,” I say, my voice rasping. “Not here. Not rushed. Not with your brother sitting ten feet away.” I brush my thumb over her cheek, my heart thundering. “When it happens, it’ll be right. Perfect.”
“It’ll be now, and it will still be perfect.” Her lips tremble, her lashes lowering as her gaze falls. She leans into my touch for a brief second before stepping back. “Don’t say no.”