Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
GRACE
The kids were quiet for now. Too quiet. That’s usually when the fear starts creeping in, like a shadow stretching across the floor. At least, it was like that when I was a kid. God, I couldn’t have imagined going through everything I already had at my age now. If I’d been a kid?
A shudder went through me. I knelt next to Nico, his little hand still clinging to mine. “Hey,” I said softly. “We’re okay. Remember? We’re okay.”
He didn’t answer. His eyes tracked the walls, every creak or groan of sound seemed to make him flinch. Goblin lay at my feet, low thrum vibrating in his chest like a motor—steady, unshakable. That alone helped.
A crackle, then Bones’ voice, rough but controlled came over the comm. “Clear at the truck.”
I’d been listening to them every step of the way.
“Voodoo and Lunchbox are taking the rig. Alphabet—get them an exit strategy and make sure it’s clear.”
“Go with them, Cap,” AB said.
“No,” Bones replied and I swore my heart spasmed.
My stomach clenched. It felt like we’d just gotten him back, I didn’t want to risk losing him again. My hands tightened around Nico’s. “Bones…”
“Shh,” he said, and though his tone was softer the order underlying the syllable was no less fierce. “They’re coming for me.”
I swallowed. My throat was tight. I tapped the comm to silence my end. I wasn’t alone. There were two other soft beeps that followed mine. Legend and Voodoo, AB would stay on with Bones. We’d moved as a unit, but bit by bit, we’d broken off into smaller teams.
Now Bones was alone. My heart did a violent little wrench.
I glanced at the others. The little girl with the stuffed toy missing an eye was hugging it like it was the only thing in the world keeping her alive. I smiled, even though it didn’t reach my eyes.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Goblin’s right here. You’re safe. I promise.”
I translated it too, because it forced me to calm down. Panic tended to make me think in English, so it seemed reasonable they would default to their own languages.
One by one, I checked on the others. Words didn’t have to make sense. The tone mattered. Calm, slow, solid. That’s what they needed. That’s what I gave.
Bones’ voice came again. More frantic now. “Rig’s out, I’ve got a hit team—four of them—coming through the west containers. I’m holding.”
My stomach dropped.
“Dollface,” he continued barely pausing for a breath. “I’ve got this, but you can turn the comm off so you don’t have to listen.”
Fuck. That.
I gritted my teeth and held my tongue. I couldn’t fix this from here. Not yet. My job was the kids. My job was keeping them alive. And I could do that.
The youngest, the little boy clinging to Goblin’s tail, whimpered. I scooped him onto my lap, rubbing his back. “It’s okay,” I said softly. “They can’t get to us. Bones and the others are making sure of that. You’re safe. I promise.”
My comm pinged again. “We’re out.” Legend’s voice rolled over me in slow, smooth, and deliberate fashion as he confirmed Bones’ earlier report. “Clear in two. Don’t do anything stupid back there, Bones.”
“I don’t plan to,” came Bones’ sharp reply.
My comm beeped again, I didn’t recognize this one.
“Grace,” AB’s calm, clipped voice cut in.
“I swapped our channel for a moment. I’ve got backup coming in and Feds on standby.
They’ll hit the perimeter and sweep in once we have visual clearance on the evac.
One of us will bring them to you when it’s time. You’re not alone.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Copy,” I said. “Put me back on with Bones?” A whisper of noise that sounded like a kiss before the comm beeped and the sound of vehicles and shouting in the distance came over the comms.
“Help is coming,” I whispered, forcing my tone to be upbeat. “We’re safe. Goblin agrees.” Thankfully, the Staffy gave me a long, comforting look and thumped his tail.
A rumble of engines sounded outside. They weren’t close, but the vibrations carried. One of the girls clutched the stuffed toy to her chest and buried her face. I leaned close, voice low and steady. “Nothing’s going to touch us. Not here. Not tonight. You’re okay.”
She crawled over to curl up in what little of my lap was left. The kids were forming a bundle with me and Goblin on either side of them. It didn’t surprise me when Nico wrapped a thin arm around the youngest girl even as the littlest boy rubbed his dirty, tear-stained face against my sweatshirt.
Bones’ voice came again, more urgent now. “They’re pushing through the containers. I’ve got one down… two more—”
The tension in his voice threatened to gut me. “Do you want me to tell you a story?” It was reaching and now that I’d offered, my mind went a little blank.
There was a metallic crash, the echo of combat. My stomach twisted.
Nico looked at me with a sheen of tears in his dark brown eyes. Tears he refused to shed, but blinked furiously to keep back. It was hard to fight the urge to cry. But I was proud of him for doing it.
“Story?” His request came out a little stronger than my offer.
“Sí, story,” I said softly, smoothing Nico’s hair back. “Let’s tell a story. One that’s… brave.”
The littlest girl peeked at me from under her toy with its stitched eyes glimmered in the dim light. I swallowed, trying to hold the knot in my chest at bay.
I took a slow breath, the kids pressed close, and began in a whisper, “Había una vez una tortuga que quería tocar el cielo.”
The little turtle who wanted to touch the sky.
Nico’s hand tightened around mine. He didn’t speak, but he listened. The youngest girl clutched her toy, head tilted to look up at me. Goblin lay like a shield at our side. I kept my tone calm, steady, soothing.
Over the comm, Bones’ voice crackled again. “Two down. West side—moving faster.”
I swallowed, forcing my words to remain soft. “Esta tortuga no era la más rápida ni la más fuerte, pero tenía un corazón muy valiente.”
Not the fastest. Not the strongest. But very brave.
I glanced at Nico. His eyes were wide, tracking sounds beyond our little building. He didn’t need translation for the fear, but he needed me to be brave for him.
“Un día decidió que nada—ni el viento, ni la lluvia, ni los animales más grandes del bosque—podía detenerla.”
Nothing could stop it.
The metallic clang of Bones’ gunfire echoed faintly through the comm, far off but sharp enough to make me flinch.
“We’ve got another moving in on the north dock,” he said, voice tense but controlled. “I can handle it.”
I nodded to myself. My job was here. The kids. The story. My hands rubbed the youngest boy’s back. “Pero la tortuga sabía que a veces se necesitan amigos. Amigos que te ayudan a subir y te protegen cuando el camino es peligroso.”
Sometimes you need friends.
Goblin thumped his tail, and one by one, the kids leaned closer, forming a bundle around me. I could almost feel their tension seeping into my lap. I whispered, “Y la tortuga encontró un amigo muy grande, un perro fuerte que estaba a su lado.”
A big friend. A strong dog.
Through the comm, I heard a shout, not Bones’ voice—closer, faster. “We are clear,” Voodoo said.
I kept going, soft, slow. “Y cuando el viento soplaba demasiado fuerte, el perro decía: ‘No te preocupes, estoy aquí.’”
“Don’t worry, I’m here.”
A crash from the pier made the kids flinch. I held them tighter. “Juntos, la tortuga y el perro caminaron hasta la cima de la montana. El sol brillaba sobre ellos, y sabían que aunque haya peligro, nunca estaban solos.”
Even when there’s danger, they weren’t alone.
Bones’ voice roared back over the comm, closer, ragged: “North dock cleared. Hit squad—three more. I’m holding.”
Minutes stretched like hours.
I swallowed. The story didn’t falter, even though my heart felt weighed down in titanium chains. “A veces, los más pequenos son los más valientes. Y con amigos, siempre llegamos a casa.”
The smallest can be the bravest. With friends, we always make it home.
The youngest boy sniffled into my sweatshirt. I whispered directly to him, softly translating the words. “La tortuga aprendió que ser valiente no es no tener miedo… es seguir adelante incluso cuando tienes miedo. Y nosotros… podemos hacer lo mismo.”
Bravery isn’t not being afraid. It’s moving forward anyway. And we… we can do the same.
A long silence fell over the room, the kind that feels like the eye of a storm. And then, faint but distinct, the low rumble of engines. AB’s voice cut in sharp, clipped, a lifeline over the static: “Backup’s on site. Feds moving in. You’re not alone.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I repeated softly to the kids, as much to remind myself: “Estamos bien. Estamos seguros.Goblin está aquí. Todos estamos juntos.”
We’re okay. We’re safe. Goblin’s here. We’re all together.
And even as the distant chaos continued, even as Bones fought his way through the pier alone, I told the story again—slow, soft, brave—because in this moment, our courage, like the turtle’s, was the only thing keeping us moving forward.
I tightened my grip on the youngest boy as the engines grew louder. In the distance, I swore I could hear the clatter of footsteps and shouted orders carrying faintly over the comms. Bones was still on his own, holding the north dock against the rest of the hit team.
I whispered, “Y la tortuga miró hacia atrás y vio que sus amigos estaban allí. Siempre a su lado, incluso cuando el camino era peligroso.”
The turtle looked back and saw his friends. Always by his side, even when the road was dangerous.
Another metallic clang. Bones’ voice cut sharply over the comm. “Two more down. One left—northwest corner. I’ve got eyes on him. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
I held my breath. My hands trembled just slightly. Nico leaned into me, his face pressed against my shoulder. “Estamos bien, pequeno,” I said softly. “La tortuga tiene amigos, y nosotros también.”
We’re okay, little one. The turtle has friends, and so do we.