7. Rescue Mission
DECEMBER 2038
AFTER CHAPTER 25 IN SINFUL LIKE US
We listened to "Tiptoe" by Imagine Dragons while writing this scene.
Character List:
Maximoff Hale - 23
Charlie Cobalt - 21
Sullivan Meadows - 20
Bodyguards:
Farrow Keene - 28 Omega (Current Client: Maximoff Hale)
Tony Ramella - 28 Epsilon (Current Client: Jane Cobalt)
Akara Kutsuwon - 27 Omega Lead (Current Client: Sullivan Meadows)
**
MAXIMOFF HALE
JANIE HAS BEEN GONE for over five damn hours. She should be back from grocery shopping by now.
I get that she’s with her boyfriend, but there’s no way she’d risk exposing the twin switch to spend more time with Thatcher. Not today.
It’s December 18th—Akara’s birthday, which we all planned to celebrate tonight. Thatcher and Jane wouldn’t miss that.
And Jesus, all I have to do is glance outside to know a colossal blizzard has blown into the Scottish Highlands. It looks like Iceman is having a one-on-one fight with Storm. The chances of a car stalling or spinning out are high.
Janie is my best friend. My other half. And I’m not leaving her and her boyfriend stranded out in the freezing cold over night.
I spread gear out in the large foyer: hiking packs, headlamps, extra batteries, water bottles, CamelBaks, a ton of dry extra clothes (especially for Jane), a first-aid kit, waterproof matches, and more. I brought all of this stuff to Scotland for recreational hiking—not for a rescue mission.
While I roll fleece pants and place them in my pack, I tell Charlie, “You can join me.”
He’s been slumping back on the last few steps of the winding carpeted staircase. Just watching me pack for what could be a two-day hike. I have no clue how far away Thatcher and Jane are, but I’ve been preparing for the worst. Triple-checking that I have enough extra supplies for a long, taxing duration.
Charlie props his head with a finger to his temple. “I’m staying here.”
I stuff a water bottle inside. “I want you to come, if you want to, and I know Jane would too.” That’s his sister, and I really don’t want Charlie to feel like this is a solo-thing. Like I’m taking over and pushing him out.
He locks eyes with me. “I’ll slow you down.”
I’m crouched, switchblade in my hand, and I glance at his right leg, the one that has been causing him pain in the cold. “If your leg hurts?—”
“It’s not just my leg,” Charlie cuts me off and cocks his head. “Even before my surgery, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you in these conditions. There’s no point in trailing three or four hours behind you.”
I can’t offer to stay back just to let him be the one to rescue his sister. This isn’t a competition to me. “Jane would appreciate it if she saw that you joined." I know she'd love seeing Charlie there.
“I’m not hiking in pain for twelve-plus hours for her appreciation.” His eyes carry more emotion. He looks more like his age, like my younger cousin who needs me to part seas and move mountains. “You have to find her.” He pauses to add, "Please."
“I will,” I say strongly, confident that I have the ability to bring them back here. I’m finding Jane and Thatcher—there is no other option.
Charlie slouches back against the stairs.
I pack Jane’s boots in the main compartment. She left them here to dry, and she’ll need them if we have to hike back together.
After a few minutes, Joana, Luna, Beckett, and Sulli gather on the staircase too. I zip up two packs, and Sulli is the only one adamant about coming along.
I toss her a headlamp. “You’ll need to wear more clothes under your jacket and pants.”
She catches the headlamp. “I’ll go get changed—don’t fucking leave without me.” Sulli stands quickly and rushes halfway up the stairs.
“Wait, Sul,” Akara calls out.
She freezes as all the bodyguards enter the foyer. They’ve been having a conversation in the kitchen, out of earshot, about hiking to find Thatcher and Jane.
Akara explains, “It’s better if we both stay back.”
“Why?” She frowns.
“Yeah, why?” Tony Ramella questions. “We should all be going.”
“We’ve just talked about this,” Akara snaps at him.
Christ, security drama has been even worse than my family’s drama lately. It takes another five minutes, but I think we all start to realize that SFO doesn’t want Tony to join, for whatever reason.
He only stops complaining when Akara cements that it’s just me and Farrow going, and he emphasizes that Farrow is a doctor. Which Tony isn’t.
It puts me on edge. I always thought Farrow would be coming along as my bodyguard. To know that Jane and Thatcher might need him because he’s a doctor…
We have to leave now.
I sheath my hunting knife on my ankle. “I already packed your bag,” I tell Farrow while he laces his boots next to me. I motion to the second zipped-up hiking pack.
I stuffed two other packs in ours, one for Jane and another one for Thatcher. I figure they have groceries and other things in the car they’ll need to bring back.
Farrow knots his laces. “I was going to ask if you packed extra batteries for headlamps, but then I remembered you’re you. Preparedness is kind of your thing.” He smiles at me, a soft affectionate one.
His levity breathes this light air in my body. I never had that before Farrow.
I lick my lips, my chest flooding. He’s my man—a love that never wanes, and God, I feel that now.
I want to joke about how my thing is better than his thing, but I can’t find the words. We need to leave, and we move quickly together. Making sure we’re clothed for the elements.
I stand upright and pull the hood of my winter jacket over my head.
Farrow tugs on a black beanie, his earring swaying with his movement. When we’re fully dressed to combat the harsh climate, we grab our hiking packs and head to the front door.
One foot outside, and powerful winds knock us back. Fucking Christ. “Farrow.” I tense, my muscles burning.
He shuts the door and drops his pack. “Let’s give it an hour. It's okay.”
An hour. I check the time on my watch, my face sharpening.
As much as the delay is biting at me, I’m not protesting. I’ll fully admit that I’m stubborn, but I don’t want to put Farrow in harm’s way. And we can’t battle strong winds in sub-zero temperatures.
An hour ticks by.
Followed by another hour, and then another. I’m pacing at the front door, my muscles screaming to run. To leave.
To find my best friend.
The longer I’m stuck here, the more my brain is thinking the worst. She’s dying. And I can’t do anything. I just have to let her die? I just have to live my life without her in it? I can't even picture a world without Jane. Pain balls up in my ribs.
I rest my hands on my head.
Farrow is watching with total concern. I haven’t let him touch me. He leans casually against the wall near the door, his black jacket unzipped.
I stop pacing, my chest taut and muscles on fire. No one else is in view. My family has gone to bed, and I think most of the bodyguards are in the kitchen right now.
My eyes sear, unable to fill with water. I force back tears of frustration, but something inside of me wishes I could just let it all out.
I stare right at Farrow, and my chest collapses.
“What do you need, wolf scout?” His voice is quiet and calm. Comforting.
You. "I need you." I walk over to him, and he’s already standing off the wall. Our arms are already wrapping around each other with strong-willed strength that burrows deep inside my soul.
He clutches the back of my head. “Breathe, Maximoff.”
I try.
I grip his neck, almost shuddering against his chest. I pinch my eyes with my other hand. Charlie is counting on me to find Jane.
Beckett, Luna, Sulli—they’re all counting on me, and I’d lose all my toes to frostbite if it meant finding Jane alive.
Dear World, my other half better be okay. Sincerely, a pained human.
I hold onto Farrow and try to relax, built-up emotion causing me distress that can’t be relieved that easily. I need to cry, but I keep forcing tears down.
I can only scream, and even that I struggle with because I hear the stairs creak. I pull away from Farrow, just slightly. I keep an arm around his shoulders, and I face the front door. Not wanting anyone to see me with doubt or apprehension.
My family believes I can rescue Jane, and I can’t shatter that belief. They’ll just wait up and agonize over this when they could be sleeping.
Farrow glances back at whoever crosses the foyer into the living room, and then he assesses me. “We’ll find her.”
I nod stiffly and swallow a rock. Jane is resourceful and smart—way smarter than me. She can survive a night in the cold. And she has Thatcher. She’s not alone.
I blink a few times, eyes raw. “I can’t stop picturing her dying, Farrow.” It’s killing me.
“Don’t think about what you can’t control. Just concentrate on what you’re good at.” He rubs the back of my neck in soothing circles.
“Overthinking?” I crack a knuckle.
His lip rises. “The other thing.”
I breathe out a deeper breath. “I’m great at a lot of things.”
He rolls his eyes into a spreading smile. “Like being cocky.”
“Yeah, and I'm the cockiest around you.” I exhale another breath, and as our eyes meet, I say the “thing” he’s referring to. “Preparedness.”
“There we go.” Farrow lifts his brows. “Just think about how we’re going to get from point A to point B.”
I do, and around dusk, the winds finally die down. Farrow and I buckle our packs on our chests, slip on our gloves, and leave Mackintosh House.
We trek in deep, deep snow. Following the road to the grocery store. I set a rigorous pace, and Farrow matches me step-for-step, not slowing for anything.
It’s too cold to talk. Farrow has a black scarf over his mouth, and my jacket is zipped high over my lips.
An hour into the hike, we have to stop. I grab the tube to his water bladder and blow into the spigot so it won’t freeze, then I blow into mine. We drink some.
Needles are poking into my eyeballs. I didn’t realize they hurt until we stopped moving. He notices me blinking way too much.
Farrow clutches my jaw and inspects my eyes. He motions to his pack and pulls down his scarf to whisper against my ear, “Goggles.”
I nod.
We find them (I packed a few pairs), and we put on ski goggles.
Our break is less than three minutes and we’re moving again. Two hours in, and his hand is in my hand.
I think about how in an alternate universe, I’m alone.
Some other bodyguard is here, and they trek silently behind me. Like a shadow. And every step I take is cumbersome with weight I was born to carry.
I could survive in that universe, but I don’t want to.
I want my future husband. Who makes every step I take feel unburdened.
The sun begins to rise, and three hours in, the rental car comes into view, buried in snow. My pulse spikes.
We run.
“Jane?! Thatcher?!” I shout.
“Moffy!” Jane responds. “We’re here!”
She’s alive.
Relief doesn’t come close to what I feel.