21. Blake
TWENTY-ONE
Blake
The next few days pass in a blur of activity. We make slow but steady progress on the Greaves case, each small lead bringing us incrementally closer to our goal. But there’s an undercurrent of unease running through HQ.
It starts with small things. A door that should be locked is found open. A security camera glitches for a few seconds. Nothing major, nothing that can’t be explained away by human error or technical hiccups, but it’s enough to set my teeth on edge.
Everyone senses something’s off, even if we can’t quite put our finger on what it is.
By Friday morning, the strain is starting to show. Dark circles under eyes, shoulders hunched with invisible weight, nerves frayed to breaking point.
It’s Gabe who finally breaks the silence as we’re gearing up for another day of chasing shadows.
“You know what we need?” he announces, slapping his locker shut with more force than necessary. “Coffee. Real coffee, not the swill from the break room.”
Walt grunts in agreement, rubbing his temples. “Guardian Grind? ”
The suggestion is met with unanimous nods. Even Ethan, usually all business, perks up at the idea.
“Fifteen minutes.” He checks his watch. “Then we hit the ground running.”
The short walk to The Guardian Grind is a welcome respite from the oppressive atmosphere of HQ. The crisp morning air clears some of the fog from my mind, and I take deeper breaths, savoring the hint of autumn in the breeze.
The tension in my shoulders eases with each step toward the Guardian Grind. My steps quicken involuntarily, a spark of excitement igniting in my chest.
It’s a rare treat, getting to see Sophia during the day like this. With the relentless operational tempo at Guardian HQ, our schedules rarely align outside of our evenings together.
The thought of her smile, of catching a glimpse of her in her element, sends a warmth through me that has nothing to do with the promise of coffee. It’s these stolen moments, these unexpected intersections of our lives, that make everything else feel more bearable.
I straighten my shirt, running a hand through my hair. Gabe notices, of course, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. But I can’t bring myself to care about the ribbing I’m sure to receive later. The prospect of seeing Sophia is worth it.
It’s still a marvel to me how she affects me like this.
I push open the door to The Guardian Grind, and immediately, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee floods my senses. The chime above the door mingles with the soft hum of conversation and the rhythmic whir of the espresso machine.
“Well, if it isn’t Charlie team.” Jenna glances up from behind the counter as Gabe strides over, claiming our usual corner table with a cocky grin.
“Hey, aren’t you going to order?” I trail after him, unable to resist calling out.
“They know what I like.” Gabe doesn’t even bother turning around. He just lifts a hand, waving off the question with a flick of his fingers .
“Guess that means the usual for you guys too?” Jenna raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes as she wipes her hands on a towel.
“Exactly. That’s what happens when you tip well.” Gabe drops into his seat, leaning back like he owns the place.
“Or maybe we just feel sorry for you.” Jenna chuckles, already moving to the counter.
“Nah, it’s my cheery disposition you love.” Gabe smirks, not missing a beat.
“You’re something else, man.” I shake my head, exchanging glances with the rest of the team as they start filtering in.
“What can I say? You get what you give.” Gabe crosses his arms, grinning as he watches Jenna prep our drinks.
“One day, we’re going to surprise you.” Jenna sets Gabe’s drink down first.
“Liquid gold.” Gabe picks up his cup, raising it in a mock toast. He takes a sip. “Yup, best cup of Joe in the world.”
I glance around the café, a nagging thought pulling at me. “Where’s Sophia? She usually runs the front counter.”
Jenna’s smile falters for just a second before she recovers. “Oh, she wasn’t feeling well today. Took off early to rest.”
“That’s not like her. I’ll check in on her later.” A flicker of concern settles in my gut, but I nod, trying to brush it off.
“I’m sure she’s fine, just needs a little rest.” Jenna busies herself with the next order, her movements just a bit too quick, too practiced.
The words are meant to be reassuring, but something about them doesn’t sit right.
I slide into the seat across from Gabe, the worn leather of the chair creaking slightly under my weight.
“You two gossiping like old ladies again?” Walt joins us, his heavy footsteps announcing his arrival before he even speaks.
“You’re just jealous you weren’t invited to the tea party,” Gabe quips, dodging the sugar packet Walt tosses at his head.
The playful banter is interrupted by the arrival of our drinks, carried by a familiar face I haven’t seen in a while .
“Rebel?” I blink in surprise. “When did you start working here?”
Rebel sets down our drinks, a small smile playing on her lips. “Just started this week. Jenna needed the help, and I needed… Well, something to do.”
Ethan appears behind her, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. The gesture is casual and intimate, speaking volumes about their relationship.
Rebel’s story isn’t so different from Sophia’s—both were rescued, and both are trying to find their place in this new world.
“The Grind’s been good for both Sophia and Rebel. It’s given them something meaningful, you know?”
Ethan waits until Rebel is out of earshot before leaning in, his voice low. “She’s frustrated. Nothing new on her sister’s kid, but she hasn’t given up hope.”
Rebel’s sister, Violet, was forced into surrogacy, but after delivering the child, she managed to escape. She called Rebel for help, but before she could say much, Rebel heard a commotion over the phone—Violet was recaptured and killed. She’s been searching for her sister’s kid ever since.
We all know the odds, the grim reality of what happens to girls who disappear into the world of human trafficking, let alone any children they might conceive. Hope is a powerful thing, and sometimes it’s all we have.
Rigel strides over, a rare spark of excitement lighting up his usually stoic face, cutting through the tension like a breath of fresh air.
“You guys have got to try the new cinnamon roll. It’s like heaven in pastry form.” His enthusiasm is almost contagious as he waves the plate in front of us.
“High praise coming from our resident robot,” Gabe teases, but he’s already signaling Rebel for an order.
As we settle into our usual rhythm of conversation and caffeine consumption, it’s funny how quickly The Guardian Grind has become an integral part of our routine. It’s more than just a coffee shop—it’s a haven, a place where we can forget the weight of our responsibilities and just be .
The rich, spicy scent of cinnamon fills the air as Rebel brings over Gabe’s pastry. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional good-natured insult. For a moment, it feels like any other day.
But the illusion is shattered by the sudden, insistent beeping of our pagers. Ethan pulls his out first, his face growing serious as he reads the message.
“All Guardian teams are being called in for a briefing.” His voice cuts through the chatter. “Looks urgent.”