Chapter 27
HALLIE MAE
I couldn’t take it.
Not the static.
Not Elias’s silence.
Not the blue-lit screens blinking like heart monitors waiting for someone to flatline.
I stood, fast. The chair scraped back with a screech, but Elias didn’t flinch. He was still typing, eyes scanning a half-dozen monitors, trying to locate the one dot that mattered most.
“I need to go,” I said softly.
He nodded once but didn’t look at me. “If I hear anything?—”
“You’ll come get me,” I whispered.
This time he did glance up. The sympathy in his eyes was enough to crack something inside me. But I didn’t break. Couldn’t.
I turned and walked out.
Back up two flights. Back down the long hall that hummed like it held its breath for every man deployed tonight. Back into Noah’s room .
It smelled like him.
Gun oil. Pine soap. The kind of warmth that lingered in the fabric of things even after someone had gone.
I curled back into his bed and pulled the comforter up to my chin. Closed my eyes.
But rest wouldn’t come.
My mind was a blur of gunfire and static, of Elias muttering under his breath, of Noah’s voice—sharp and cutting—right before it vanished.
He said he’d come back.
I believed him when he said it.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
Was it really possible to lose my daddy and Noah in the same week? What kind of God would be cruel enough to give me love, only to rip it away before I could even hold it?
I must’ve dozed, because when I opened my eyes again, the sky outside the window had started to pale. Just the barest hint of morning. A funeral morning.
My father’s.
The ache in my chest bloomed so suddenly I had to sit up and press a hand there, like I could hold it together with my own fingers. My daddy was gone. And the man I loved might be, too.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood on shaking limbs. My overnight bag was where I left it—tucked in the corner, half-unzipped. I reached for it and pulled out the black dress I’d packed. I hadn’t imagined I’d be wearing it without Noah.
I was in the middle of brushing my hair when a soft knock landed at the door.
I turned, hesitant. “Yeah?”
The door opened and a woman stepped inside—tall and elegant in a quiet sort of way, with wavy hair pulled into a low twist and eyes that missed nothing.
“Hallie Mae?” she asked gently.
I nodded. “Yes?”
“I’m Anna.” She smiled just enough. “Atlas’s fiancée. We haven’t met yet, but I thought you might want company this morning.”
I blinked, the unexpected kindness hitting hard. “That’s … really thoughtful. Thank you.”
She glanced at the half-zipped bag and then at me, still holding a hairbrush like it was a weapon. “Want some help?”
I hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”
Anna stepped in like she’d known me for years, calm and unhurried, the way women are when they’ve already lived through storms of their own. She helped smooth the dress over my shoulders, zipped it up in the back, and handed me tissues when the tears I’d been holding started to slip.
“You were close with your father?” she asked softly.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “He was a preacher. Soft-spoken, but strong. Always believed God could make something good out of anything.”
Anna met my eyes in the mirror. “Sounds like someone who’d be proud of the woman you’ve become.”
I couldn’t speak. Just pressed my lips together and nodded.
She picked up a silver necklace from the dresser—one I’d left out the night before—and clasped it around my neck like it was second nature. “Do you want to go alone?” she asked. “To the church?”
“No,” I said quietly. “But I don’t want to ask anyone to come. It’s not their grief.”
“I’ll come,” Anna said simply. “Not because of grief. Because of solidarity. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”
Tears filled my eyes again, and this time I didn’t stop them.
“Thank you.”
She just touched my hand and said, “Let’s get through today. And then we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”
I nodded, heart breaking all over again.
Because I didn’t know if tomorrow would bring Noah.
Or just more silence.
I reached for a tissue and dabbed at my eyes, careful not to smudge the small bit of concealer I’d managed to pat on. Anna moved quietly around the room, folding the edge of the comforter. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push. Just made the room feel a little less cold.
“I’m guessing Noah had people lined up to take you today,” she said after a moment, adjusting her earring in the mirror.
I looked at her reflection. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, but there was a softness behind it. “He’s your guy. And he’s a Dane. That means he either gave strict orders for someone to go with you to the funeral, or someone’s going to follow you whether you know it or not.”
That made me smile, just a little. “But I haven’t heard anything. No calls. No texts. No word.”
Anna’s lips quirked. “That might mean the threat’s over. Or maybe they’re giving you space. Either way, you’re not unprotected. They don’t do that.”
I tried to let that comfort me. It half worked. “I can’t really figure it out today,” I admitted. “I just … feel numb. ”
Anna came over and helped me with the final clasp on my shoes. “I know the feeling.”
I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw it in her eyes—the kind of depth that only came from having lived through something. “You’ve been through this?”
She sat on the edge of the bed beside me. “Not the same, but … yeah. The first time Atlas went on a mission after we got serious, it was during a hurricane.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
She laughed softly. “Yeah. The real kind. The storm was tearing through Charleston and he was out in it. I was stuck here listening to the wind scream outside while imagining every worst-case scenario you can think of.”
My throat tightened. “How did you deal with it?”
“I didn’t,” she said honestly. “Not well. I paced. I wrung my hands. I talked through it with the other ladies. Eventually, the storm passed. Both of them.” She looked at me gently. “He came home.”
I nodded, barely able to breathe.
“Izzy’s been through it, too,” Anna continued. “And Claire … she went through worse. She was captured once. Tortured. They found her just in time. He still has nightmares about it. So does she.”
I sucked in a slow breath, trying to keep the tears from rising again. “So it’s not just me,” I murmured. “You all must be worried sick right now, too. Izzy, Claire … you.”
Anna nodded, her expression soft but weary. “Yeah. We are. We always are when they’re out there. Doesn’t matter how many times they’ve made it home—we never stop worrying. Not until we’re looking them in the eye again.”
I looked down at my lap, fingers tangled in the hem of my dress. “I feel selfish. Like I’m falling apart and forgetting you’re all in it.”
“You’re not selfish,” she said. “You’re in love. And that kind of love? The kind you build on nights like this—it connects us all. Me, Izzy, Claire. Now you.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered.
Anna reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re already doing it.”
My stomach turned. “How do you live like this? Loving someone who walks through hell for a living?”
Anna smiled again, not sad this time. Strong. “You don’t love them because of what they do. You love them in spite of it. Because when they come home—when they hold you like the world finally stopped spinning—it’s worth it.”
I reached for her hand, and she held it tight.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For being here.”
She squeezed gently. “We’re not just the women who love the Dane brothers, Hallie Mae. We’re the women who survive beside them. That makes us family.”
I swallowed hard, that word—family—settling in my chest.
Anna stood, brushing invisible wrinkles from her skirt. “You’ll like Claire and Izzy. We’ve all got different stories, but we’ve lived the same kind of chaos. If you want, we could all go together. To the funeral, I mean.”
That cracked something inside me.
I turned away, but too late—tears welled hot and fast, spilling before I could stop them. My knees buckled a little, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, pressing trembling fingers to my lips.
Anna was beside me in a heartbeat, her hand on my back.
“I’m sorry,” I choked. “It just hit me all at once. ”
She didn’t rush me. Just let the silence settle like a blanket until I found the words.
“It’s Noah,” I said finally, voice raw. “He’s been my rock through all this. When they called me to identify my daddy’s body … I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. And then he showed up. He didn’t even say anything at first—just wrapped his arms around me and held on until I could speak again.”
Anna’s fingers curled slightly against my spine. “That sounds like him.”
“And I know it’s ridiculous,” I went on, tears spilling freely now, “because it’s happened so fast. All of it.
We’ve only known each other a little while, but when I think about the future?
About a porch with wind chimes and garden beds and kids running barefoot through the yard?
” I shook my head. “I see him there. Every time. Like my soul’s already written him into the story. ”
Anna smiled softly. “It’s not ridiculous.”
“It feels like it should be,” I whispered. “Like I should need more time. More proof. But I don’t.”
She nodded slowly. “Because there’s something about these men. About the way they love—how it’s total. Fierce. Immovable once they give it to you. You don’t have to earn it every day. You just have to hold it. And let it hold you back.”
I exhaled a shaky breath, my head falling against her shoulder. “What if I don’t get to hold him again?”
Anna rested her cheek gently against the top of my head.
“Then we’ll fall apart together,” she whispered. “And piece each other back together one breath at a time.”
I closed my eyes. And let myself believe that love like this could survive anything. I sat there a moment, feeling the steadiness of Anna’s presence beside me .
Then we shifted to logistics, like women do when their hearts are breaking but life demands to keep going.
“The church is in Estill,” I murmured, straightening. “My daddy’s church. It’s about two hours from here. I want to get there early … help my mama with whatever she needs. She shouldn’t have to handle the hard parts alone.”
Anna nodded. “We’ll make sure you get there in time.”
“We?” I glanced over.
“If you want,” she said.
I smiled. “I think I do want that. Thank you.”
Then I looked down, fingers curling in my lap. “I just keep wondering about Noah. Elias said he’d come get me if he heard anything, but … I don’t know. What if that was a way of preparing me? What if it meant bad news was coming?”
Anna didn’t answer right away.
We both jumped when the door creaked open behind us—not a knock, not a sound we expected. Just the quiet shift of hinges and the faint scrape of boot soles on hardwood.
I turned, heart lodged in my throat.
And there he was.
Noah.
Framed in the doorway like a ghost returned from war—beaten and bruised, a gash high on his temple, dried blood streaked along one cheek. His black shirt was torn at the collar, boots still wet and caked in river mud, like he’d fought his way through hell to get back to me.
But he was upright.
Breathing.
Alive.
His eyes found mine like they never stopped looking, and for one long second, we didn’t move. The world just stopped spinning.
Then he gave me the faintest, crooked smile.
“I told you I’d make it,” he said, voice rough and wrecked. “Think I’ve got time to find a tie?”
I choked on a sob and launched myself into his arms.
My knees buckled, and I would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught me.
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest, and I felt the tremble in him—deep, buried, the kind of shake that came after you’d stared death down and walked away anyway.
I clung to him.
Anna gasped softly behind me. “Atlas,” she whispered, then turned and bolted out the door, heels clicking down the hall.
But I couldn’t move. Not yet. I buried my face in the space between Noah’s neck and shoulder, and he held me tighter, his hand curling protectively around the back of my head.
“You’re here,” I whispered, the words breaking.
“I told you I’d come back,” he murmured into my hair. “Didn’t I?”
I nodded against his chest, my tears soaking into the warm, battered fabric of his shirt.
We stood there a long moment, just breathing each other in.
Finally, I leaned back enough to see his face.
“You don’t have to go to the funeral,” I whispered. “You just got back.”
His eyes searched mine, quiet and steady. “I do have to go. I want to be there. I need to be there.”
I nodded again, fresh tears rising. But this time they weren’t from grief .
They were from something else.
Hope.
Anna returned a few moments later with Claire and Isabel behind her, all of them breathless and bright-eyed from the reunion news already traveling the halls.
Anna crossed the room, her voice soft. “You good, Hallie Mae?”
I looked at Noah—bloodied but whole—and I found the strength to nod.
“I’m good now,” I whispered.
Anna’s smile was small but knowing. “We’re still going to the funeral. We’ll meet you there. Your daddy deserves a full house.”
Emotion clogged my throat, too big to swallow. I reached out and squeezed her hand, holding on tight.
“Thank you,” I managed. “For everything.”
She just squeezed back, steady as a heartbeat. “Family shows up.”
And I turned back to the man I loved, knowing this was the moment we’d crossed through fire and found each other on the other side.
Together.
Alive.
Unbreakable.