Chapter Five
Liis
Midnight in Tucson felt nothing like midnight anywhere else.
The air outside the terminal was cold and stripped bare, sharp enough to bite through fabric and skin.
Desert chill carried a mineral tang, clean and unforgiving, and the tarmac lights cast long, brittle shadows across the pavement. Still, nothing softened the darkness.
An SUV waited at the curb, blacked out to the point of anonymity. No markings, Arizona plates, its exhaust puffing into the air to let us know it was warm and ready at a moment’s notice.
Thomas reached it first, his hand already on the rear hatch before the driver even stepped out. The man moved like a veteran agent, confident, relaxed and alert at the same time. He was in his mid-thirties, lean, eyes observant and subtly scanning his surroundings. He didn’t offer a smile.
“Agent Bradley Wimble,” he said, extending a hand.
Thomas shook it, brief and firm. “Thomas Maddox.”
Wimble nodded once, already focusing on the luggage. “I’ve been briefed. I want to get you loaded and on the road in five.”
Stella was asleep and drooling on Thomas’s shoulder, the sleeves of her soft lavender hoodie covering her small fists.
She’d fallen asleep on the plane and woken disoriented, cheeks flushed, curls mashed against her head, but Thomas had used his soft dad voice to lull her back to sleep as we made our way through the terminal.
He passed her off to me to help Wimble load the luggage, and I opened the back door, relieved to see a car seat already properly strapped in, complete with padded strap covers for her head to rest upon.
It took two full-size roller bags to pack everything Stella needed to still feel at home in the middle of the desert. The rest of us brought one each.
Wimble paused, one brow lifting just slightly.
“We have a toddler. One of her bags is clothes, the other is survival,” Thomas explained.
Wimble didn’t comment. He just helped Thomas load our luggage, stacking as carefully as a Tetris master, making everything fit without a wasted inch.
I carefully buckled Stella in, combing back her dark, stringy bangs with my fingers, letting my shoulders fall a fraction. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been bracing until that moment.
I turned to meet Wimble’s eyes. “Thank you,” I said, meaning more than the car seat.
Wimble inclined his head. “We tried our best to anticipate.”
Thomas took the passenger seat without discussion.
Wimble slid into the driver’s side, already checking mirrors.
I settled into the second-row captain’s seat beside Stella after Bodhi and Olive climbed into the third-row bench.
Bodhi stayed close, his knee angled toward hers, one hand resting near her wrist without touching.
“No one knows we’re here,” I said as I turned to the barely-adults behind me long enough to give final instruction. “We’re safe. Settle in, we’ve got a long drive.”
“How long?” Olive asked.
I didn’t turn back around to answer, keeping my eyes forward, tracking the dark ribbon of road unfurling past the windshield. “About an hour and forty-five from here.”
“The first part’s normal highway,” Wimble added.
“The last stretch is roughly fifty miles. Two-lane roads, no shoulders, almost no traffic. At the turn off, it’s unmarked access roads through the foothills.
No lights. No services. That part takes close to an hour on its own.
” He paused, then added, “The terrain at that point changes fast. Flat desert turns to rock and scrub, then elevation. By the time you realize how isolated it is, you’re already there.
Cell service will be unreliable for approximately thirty minutes prior to arrival.
After that, you can use the compound’s service to let family know you’ve arrived safely—if they allow it. ”
“If they allow it,” I repeated.
Tucson fell away gradually. Lights thinned, traffic eased, and somewhere south of the city the road opened into quiet desert, the horizon indistinct, the stars sharper than they ever were back east.
Until we reached Green Valley, no one spoke, and Thomas seemed surprised that it was me who broke the silence. “Bodhi, have your parents said anything since you broke the news?”
He exhaled through his nose. “They’re pissed about classes and basketball, but they don’t have to like it. It’s my decision.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened, visible even from my angle. “This could interfere with your scholarships.”
“You’re a fed,” he said simply. “All we need is for you to quietly get with administration, make sure I’m placed on approved leave—not withdrawn—and protect my eligibility.”
Thomas turned, a small grin tugging at his mouth, clearly amused by Bodhi’s confidence—and how strategically he’d framed the ask. “I don’t know that we have those strings to pull, but we can try.”
“That’s enough for me,” Bodhi said.
I saw Olive’s fingers twitch against her leg in my peripheral, prompting me to quickly check Stella, and then turn to her.
Olive’s eyes were glossy, fixed on the dark window, her reflection faintly lit by the dim, idle glow of her phone.
If she were anyone else, I’d have reminded her not to reach out to anyone, but after two and a half years, she knew the drill.
Wimble cleared his throat before I could ask again if she was okay. “Now that we’re clear of populated areas, I should brief you,” he said. “I’ve coordinated lodging and security at the ARBP compound.”
Thomas furrowed his brow. “Negotiated how?”
“Carefully,” Wimble said. “They’re aware of the situation, have made accommodations for your toddler, and acknowledged the probability of additional parties arriving.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Falyn. I had no choice but to ignore it.
“General Marcel was explicit,” Wimble continued. “He approved such unprecedented access for one reason only—that Travis personally ensured Naomi’s safe return to the compound. He wants it clearly understood that this settles the debt. No further favors will be extended.”
Thomas nodded once. “That’s fair.”
“You should know, General Marcel isn’t someone who deals in favors, returned or otherwise,” Wimble said.
“Especially not ones that come with this level of complication. That you helped his daughter when it was life or death was the only act that could’ve convinced him.
He’ll accommodate you, but there will be strict rules and no second chances. ”
I turned back to eye Bodhi and Olive. They nodded.
“Understood,” I said.
Stella stirred in her seat. I reached over to rest my fingers on her knee, the contact quieting something in my chest as much as it soothed her. “Maybe now is a good time to go over the rules.”
Wimble obliged. “First and most important, no one leaves the grounds without express authorization from General Marcel. Not for supplies, not for a change of scenery. If you need something, it’s requested through command.”
A beat passed before he spoke again.
“No phones outside designated areas. Comms are monitored. Anything sensitive stays verbal and indoors.” He adjusted his grip on the wheel.
“Weapons stay secured and only if you’re cleared to carry.
Even then, you follow their protocols, not yours.
” He paused again. “Curfew is enforced. Lights out means lights out. Movement after hours gets you bounced. Nothing gets photographed. If it has a lens, it stays pointed down. No recording. No posting to social media. Nothing that creates a digital footprint tied to this location. Not that it will be possible, your phones and weapons will be confiscated at the outer checkpoint.”
His eyes flicked to the rearview, catching Bodhi and Olive.
“And finally—no freelancing. No side plans. No well-meaning decisions. The FBI has no jurisdiction within the compound. If you have a suggestion, request facetime with General via the CO, Joshua Brooks, or one of the commanders and they’ll run it up the chain.
If something feels off, you report it. You don’t handle it. ”
Silence settled.
“Keep in mind they’re extending protection, not hospitality,” Wimble finished. “Respect that, and you won’t have problems.”
“That’s a lot of rules to remember. What if we mess up?” Bodhi asked.
Wimble didn’t turn. “Don’t. Especially you. You’re not listed as essential, and that matters there.”
“Liis?” Olive whimpered.
“It’ll be okay,” I reassured her. “I’ll keep him on the straight and narrow.”
The highway thinned to a darker strip of asphalt, scrub and rock crowding the edges as the headlights carved a narrow path forward.
Then, shoulders disappeared, the pavement roughening beneath the tires.
Streetlights dropped off, then signage, then anything that suggested civilization.
Stella slept on, unmoving except for the rise and fall of her chest, a small mercy I didn’t question.
In the back row, Olive had drifted off, too, her head tipped against Bodhi’s shoulder, his body angled toward her as if instinctively bracing for every bump.
The quiet closed in on a level that made us recognize there would be no turning back without permission.
The compound didn’t announce itself so much as emerge, piece by piece.
Low lights appeared first, spaced wide and dim, then the outline of structures cut into the land instead of sitting on top of it.
Everything was matte, muted, built to disappear from a distance and dominate up close.
The fencing came next—heavy, unapologetic, and layered with razor wire and warning signs that didn’t bother with politeness.
This wasn’t about blending in anymore. It was about drawing a line and daring anyone to cross it.
The SUV slowed as we approached the first gate.
“Thomas?” I said, my eyes narrowing at what lie ahead. “This is no militia camp. It’s more like a small paramilitary town.”