Chapter 23 Amanda
AMANDA
The van ride back felt longer than the drive out, even though I knew it wasn’t.
I sat pressed into Wrecker’s side, wrapped in a blanket that smelled like oil and cold air and him.
My fingers stayed curled around his hand, not because I thought something terrible would happen if I let go, but because I didn’t want to.
My body still hadn’t fully settled. The shaking came in small waves, starting in my hands, spreading up my arms, tightening in my chest until my teeth clicked together.
No one talked much.
Brutus drove. Cap sat up front, quiet. Ranger leaned close to Hailey, murmuring something low and steady. Ghost was already back on his tablet, shoulders tight, jaw set.
Wrecker didn’t move away from me. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t tell me to breathe. He just stayed there, solid and warm, one arm around my shoulders like a constant I could measure myself against.
I stared at the floor of the van and told myself it was over.
The compound gates came into view, floodlights slicing through the dark. Relief surged sharp and fast.
Home.
The van slowed. Stopped.
And my body reacted before my mind could catch up.
My stomach clenched. My throat tightened. The air felt thinner, like it had lost weight. I drew in a breath and felt it snag halfway down.
No.
I felt it then, the familiar slide. The edge of it. The place where panic liked to rush in and take over if I let it.
The warehouse flashed in my head. The wall. The pressure. The weight of him too close, too solid.
My heart beat fast and hard enough to hurt.
Not now.
I pressed my feet flat against the floor of the van. Cold rubber. Solid. I focused on the ridges in the mat beneath my boots. Counted the bolts along the side panel. One. Two. Three.
I was here.
I was back.
My fingers tightened deliberately around Wrecker’s hand. Not frantic. On purpose.
He looked down at me immediately. “You okay?”
“Working through it,” I said. My voice shook, but it didn’t break.
His thumb brushed once over my knuckles, slow and grounding. He didn’t rush me. Didn’t move to lift me. Just stayed right there.
The panic hovered. Snapped at my edges. Tried to pull me under.
But it didn’t take me. I refused to let it control me.
By the time the doors opened, my breath was uneven, but mine. My legs felt weak, but they held.
Wrecker shifted with me as we stood, staying close without carrying me. I leaned into his side as we moved through the gates, the compound sounds coming back in layers. Boots. Voices. The hum of generators.
Ariel’s face appeared briefly in my peripheral vision, pale and relieved, before someone guided her away.
Inside Wrecker’s room, the door shut behind us with a solid click.
I sat on the edge of the bed, hands braced on my thighs, breathing hard but steady enough to count. Same walls. Same chair. Same blanket folded at the foot of the bed.
Real.
Wrecker knelt in front of me, close but not crowding. His hands came up, warm against my jaw, tilting my face gently until I had no choice but to look at him.
“You’re here,” he said quietly. “You’re safe.”
I nodded once.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “In through your nose.”
I did. Slow. Controlled.
“Out.”
Again.
Wrecker didn’t pull away. “That,” he said quietly, “was you stopping it.”
The tightness in my chest eased in increments, not gone, but no longer in charge.
The door cracked open. Doc poked his head in. “I interrupting?”
“She’s breathing,” Wrecker said without looking away from me.
Doc nodded. “Good. I’ll grab water.”
When the door shut again, the adrenaline drained, leaving something heavier behind.
Shame tried to creep in.
I stared at my hands. Dried blood still streaked my knuckles. Not all of it mine.
“I hate that my body still does this,” I said quietly.
Wrecker’s brow furrowed. “It doesn’t mean anything bad about you.”
“It feels like it does,” I admitted. “Like I should be past this by now.”
“You were just kidnapped,” he said flatly. “There’s no ‘past this’ on a timeline.”
“I didn’t fall apart,” I said, more to myself than him. “But I almost did.”
“But you didn’t,” he replied. “That matters.”
Doc came back in with water and a small kit, moving efficiently. He checked bruises, cleaned a shallow cut on my arm, wrapped it carefully. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t comment on the blood.
When he finished, he squeezed my shoulder once. “You did good.”
After he left, I sat there for a long moment, letting the quiet settle. Letting my body catch up to where I already knew I was.
Mine.
That was when I heard it.
Not in the room.
In the hallway.
Cap’s voice. Low. Tight.
“…Scout’s burner was there. Same model. Same prefix.”
My stomach dropped.
Another voice, Ghost’s, quiet but unmistakable. “Name was on a transfer list. Two days ago.”
Transfer.
My fingers tightened around the glass.
Wrecker noticed immediately. “What did you hear?”
I hesitated.
I didn’t want to say it out loud. Saying it would make it real in a way I wasn’t sure I could handle yet.
“Scout,” I whispered.
Wrecker went still.
“They found his name,” I said, the words tumbling out now. “Didn’t they?”
His jaw clenched. “Yeah.”
The relief I’d been clinging to shattered.
“He was there,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“And he’s not now.”
Wrecker shook his head once. “Not anymore.”
The room felt suddenly smaller. The walls too close. My skin prickled.
“They moved him,” I said slowly. “Just like they were going to move us.”
Wrecker didn’t deny it.
A wave of guilt hit me so hard it stole my breath.
“If you hadn’t come for me—”
“Stop,” he said sharply.
“But they might’ve had more time to track him,” I insisted. “They might’ve—”
“No,” he said again, firmer this time. “You don’t get to put that on yourself.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting the sting behind my eyes.
“He helped me,” I said quietly. “Before. At the compound. He joked with me when I was nervous. He made me feel like I wasn’t just… baggage.”
Wrecker exhaled slowly. “Scout’s one of ours.”
“So am I,” I said, surprising both of us.
He looked at me then, something like pride flickering across his face.
“Yes,” he said. “You are.”
The panic didn’t come back this time.
Something else did.
Resolve.
“I heard them talking,” I said. “At the warehouse. Not everything they said made sense, but— it wasn’t just random. They had lists. Schedules. That place was a stop.”
Wrecker leaned in. “What do you remember?”
I closed my eyes, forcing myself back into the memory, even though my body protested. “They talked about timing. About moving people before dawn. One of them said something about a reroute.”
Wrecker nodded slowly. “That helps.”
“I don’t want to be protected in the dark,” I said. “I want to know what’s happening.”
He studied me for a long moment.
Then he nodded. “Okay.”
The simple agreement steadied me more than anything else had.
A knock sounded at the door. Cap stepped in, expression softer when he saw me sitting upright.
“You holding up?” he asked.
“I will,” I said.
He nodded once. “We’re not done.”
“I know,” I said.
Cap’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Good.”
After he left, the adrenaline finally drained out of me completely.
Exhaustion settled deep into my bones.
Wrecker helped me lie back against the pillows, staying close, his hand warm where it rested over mine.
“I’m scared,” I admitted quietly.
“I know.”
“But I’m not done,” I said. “Not anymore.”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Neither are we.”
I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady sound of his breathing, my body still sore, still shaken, but alive.
And this time, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see the warehouse.
I saw the list.
Scout’s name.
And the fight that was still coming.