Chapter 22
Moose pushed open the kitchen door and stepped inside, the low hum of the fridge and faint clinks from the coffee pot filling the quiet space. He moved to the counter without breaking stride and poured himself a fresh cup from the steaming pot, the rich aroma filling the air.
He took a slow sip, but his mind was elsewhere—replaying the moment, the stupid comment he had just made about age hanging awkwardly between him and Elena. Why had he said that? Now he was kicking himself, feeling exposed and unsure.
But beneath that awkwardness was something heavier.
He had to protect her—from the danger that was coming, the shadows gathering just beyond the edges of their quiet life.
The weight of that responsibility pressed down on him, making every misstep feel amplified.
He stole a glance toward the back yard, hoping she hadn’t taken his words the wrong way.
He wanted to reach out again, to make it right, to keep her safe—if only he could find the right words.
He knew he couldn’t afford to linger on his awkwardness or his feelings. The danger out there was real, and Elena needed to be shielded from it.
Setting the mug down with a faint clink, Moose pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping a quick code before scrolling through his contacts. His gaze steeled. It was time to call Link.
He keyed his comm as he cradled the mug in his hand. “Link, you there?”
“Always,” came the calm, clipped reply.
Moose took a slow sip, savoring the bitter warmth before nodding to himself. “Whatcha got for us?”
“Hold tight,” Link said. “I’m pulling everything up now.”
Moose drained the last of the coffee and stepped back through the kitchen into the living room.
The team was assembled around the room, dressed in tactical pants and snug black t-shirts.
Each man and woman bore the unmistakable posture of trained operatives, with their guns holstered at their hips and K-bars sheathed within easy reach.
Backpacks stuffed with additional gear rested against walls, close enough for quick grabs but out of the way.
The farmhouse had been adapted for their needs. The family’s 54-inch TV mounted high on the wall acted as a monitor.
Link’s focused face appeared on the big screen, surrounded by satellite images, highway camera feeds, and intercepted chatter scrolling along the edges.
“Ten men, heavily armed, moving fast,” Link reported smoothly, his voice filling the room through the speakers. “Convoy crossed the ridge south of County Road 14 less than an hour ago.”
Moose turned to the gathered Protectors. “Thorn and Viper, cover the tree lines to the west and north, sweeping for any movement. Jake and I will hold the front line and patrol the main routes. Enzo will stay behind with Uncle Jim to secure the farmhouse.”
Uncle Jim leaned against the doorframe, shotgun hanging lazily in the crook of his arm, a familiar comfort in uncertain times. “I know this place better than anyone,” he said quietly. “There’s a root cellar beside the barn—could be a safe spot if the ladies need refuge.”
Moose nodded. “Good. Elena, Nancy, and Salty can go there if things get bad. We’ll keep the perimeter tight.”
From the farmhouse entrance came the soft clatter of footsteps—Nancy and Elena with trays bearing steaming mugs of coffee and a plate piled high with warm breakfast biscuits. Salty pranced in between them, tail wagging wildly, his bright eyes full of curious energy as he weaved through the team.
“Thought you might need a little fuel,” Elena said quietly, setting the trays down on the coffee table with a gentle smile.
Moose raised his mug in a silent toast. Jake and Bear reached for drinks and biscuits, nodding brief thanks.
The simple act offered a rare moment of calm before the coming storm.
Not wanting to let the moment slip, he quickly added, “I—I’m just gonna step out for a bit. Need to check on something.”
Most of the guys exchanged confused glances, clearly unsure what Moose was up to. Jake, however, smirked knowingly and nudged Bear. “Yeah, he definitely needs to grovel a bit,” he said quietly, amusement flickering in his eyes.
Moose gave Jake a finger over his shoulder as he ducked around the corner to catch up with Elena.
Just as he rounded the bend, Elena spun around, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her eyes flashed with real anger, and her voice cut sharp through the air. “Kid?” she snapped, the single word laced with frustration and disbelief.
Moose took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Elena as he hurried to make things right. “Jake coming around the corner startled me, and what I said… I screwed up.” His voice was rough, filled with regret.
He ran a hand through his hair, then looked back at her, sincerity shining through for once. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you or make you feel like that. I’m sorry, Elena. I really am.”
Moose’s gaze softened as he took another steadying breath. “I have to keep you safe—more than just from what’s out there, but from anything that might hurt you, even me.” His voice was quiet but determined. “And… I really want a chance with you. Not as a mission or a duty, but as something real.”
He searched Elena’s eyes, hoping she’d see the honesty behind his words—a side of him he rarely let show.
Elena studied Moose for a long moment, the vulnerability in his eyes softening the tension inside her. She took a slow breath, then gave a small, genuine smile.
Elena hesitated for a moment, then met Moose’s gaze with quiet resolve.
“I don’t expect you to have it all figured out,” she said softly.
Her hand brushed lightly against his, a silent promise and a spark of hope.
Then, with a sudden boldness, she added, “But I’m not a kid!
” before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.
As their lips parted, a soft giggle echoed in Moose’s ear through the comms. “Comm check,” Nova’s voice chimed playfully, barely holding back laughter.
Moose pulled back slightly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. His apology, heartfelt though it was, had just been broadcast to the entire team—a not-so-subtle reminder that, despite the moment, the mission still waited.
Moose keyed his comm once more. “Well I now know everyone’s radio’s on. Keep channels clear for status updates.”
Moose’s throat tightened, and for a moment he faltered beneath the weight pressing down harder than the looming threat outside. His instincts roared to protect both his mom, Nancy, the woman who had always been his anchor, and now Elena, who was swiftly becoming just as important.
Despite the walls built around his heart and the mistakes he’d made, he found himself wanting to care for both, to shield them from the storm gathering ahead.
The tense silence hung thick in the room when Moose’s cellphone vibrated sharply in his pocket. He frowned, fishing it out as the screen flashed Gladys’ name.
He answered quickly, before the vibration could start again.
Gladys’ unmistakable voice spilled through, sharp as a whip and laced with fire. “Moose, darlin’, I swear on my mama’s grave, those no-good varmints gone and snatched up Shorty. Can you believe the gall on ’em?”
Her Southern drawl was thick with rage, but there was an edge of fear barely held in check beneath the fury.
Moose wasn’t the least bit surprised by her reaction. Gladys was more angry than scared—fiery and defiant, the kind of woman who would stand her ground no matter what.
“They took him. Right here in the diner,” Gladys continued, voice trembling with a mix of anger and worry. “I’d’ve laid ’em out myself if they weren’t packin’ enough heat to scare the devil himself.”
As an afterthought, Gladys added, “You tell ’em plain—it’s war if they think they can just waltz in and do this.”
Moose’s jaw clenched tight, fury roaring to life deep inside him. Around the room, the Protectors shifted; Jake’s gaze hardened, Thorn’s fingers tightened on his rifle.
Through the thin walls, he could hear the steady clatter of dishes and the soft rinse of running water coming from the kitchen—a mundane soundtrack to a day that felt anything but ordinary.
Beneath that drifted Nancy’s humming. The melody was soft yet constant, weaving calm into the heavy tension pressuring the farmhouse.
Moose squared his shoulders and drew a deep breath to steady the storm inside. “We’re not just defending a farm anymore,” he said. “We’re rescuing one of our own—and we’re taking the fight to them.”
He moved to the comm, voice steady despite urgency. “Link, keep eyes on the gang. Update us every minute. Everyone else, gear up—we move for town.”
Moose’s gaze hardened as he keyed his comm again, voice tight with urgency. “Link, any sign where they’re holding Shorty?”
A brief pause followed before Link answered, tone steady but serious. “Negative on exact location so far. Intercepted chatter suggests he’s contained, but no clear sign of harm yet. That could change quickly.”
Moose exhaled slowly, the weight of uncertainty settling in. “Keep monitoring everything. We move fast once we get eyes on him.”
The Protectors exchanged brief nods; silence broke with the sharp rustling of tactical gear as they prepared to shift out. Bear next to Moose gave a curt nod: ready.