Ivy
Hampton, Virginia
It’s been some days—long enough that both the window and the front door have been replaced, the splintered wood and shattered glass erased like it never happened. The new pane is spotless and the lock clicks a little too sharply when it turns.
The house looks the same again. But it doesn’t feel the same.
The interesting part is even after everything that happened here and I guess everything that could have and didn’t, I feel safe.
This feels like home. I haven’t felt that way about anywhere since I was taken.
I’ve peeked around corners before walking around them, jumped at shadows, and been fearful of perfectly kind strangers.
I don’t know what it is about Dalton, about his space, that gives me peace.
There are some moments when I catch myself staring at the front door a little too long, or listening too carefully when the wind rattles something outside, or when Dalton leaves for even a quick run, my chest tightens in a way I can’t quite control, like my body hasn’t caught up to the fact that he always comes back.
At night, I don’t even pretend anymore. I don’t bother going to my room.
I curl into him without thinking, my body seeking his automatically, tucking myself into his side like that’s the only place that makes sense.
His arm comes around me every time without hesitation, pulling me closer, and anchoring me there.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, the memories and nightmares swirling together to form a worse version of what actually happened.
I don’t want to talk about them, that feels like it gives them power, so I snuggle in closer to Dalton.
He just kisses me softly and tightens his hold.
The two men who broke into Dalton’s were tied to the Al-Shaheen network.
That alone is enough to send chills down my spine every time I think about it.
I still don’t know what they wanted with me.
That part is worse than anything.
The not knowing.
Dalton didn’t tell me much—probably because he knows exactly how far my mind would run with it if he did. What he did say was simple, firm, and repeated enough times that I think he needed me to believe it as much as he needed to say it.
You’re safe.
They’re not a threat anymore.
We’ve got it handled.
He doesn’t say who “we” is in that sentence. I don’t ask. Because I think I already know. And because part of me is afraid of what the full answer would sound like out loud.
I try not to think about how they found me. How a name—my name, Kyler’s name—could be enough to trace a line straight to my front door.
That kind of reach is the kind you don’t really escape from.
Except…maybe you do.
Maybe this time, I did.
We just got back from South Florida, from another air show.
Hadley and I both got a slight sunburn, which feels refreshingly ordinary.
My shoulders are still a little pink, Had’s nose is a teeny bit worse, and we spent half the afternoon yesterday complaining about aloe vera being cold and sticky like it was the biggest problem in the world.
It was…nice.
Normal. The kind of normal I didn’t realize I missed so much.
We haven’t seen Kyler since the morning of the break-in.
He’s texted a few times—short, simple check-ins—and FaceTimed Hadley twice.
Both times he kept the camera tight on his face, background blurred or angled just enough that nothing identifiable showed.
But I know that means he’s overseas. And if I had to guess, he’s in South Africa.
Tying up loose ends.
The thought should scare me more than it does. Instead, it just makes me feel…tired. Like I don’t have the energy left to question what had to happen to make sure they never come back.
I’m pretty sure Dalton knows where Kyler is, but I won’t ask. I won’t put him in that position. I understand what it means to be with someone who does things they can’t talk about. I used to take it personally, now I realize, I don’t want to know.
I’m slicing potatoes in the kitchen when I hear a soft knock at the front door that pulls me out of my thoughts so suddenly my heart jumps into my throat.
I freeze, every nerve tightening instinctively before I force myself to breathe and stand, crossing the room slowly. I glance out the French doors into the backyard as I pass. Dalton is prepping the grill and Hadley is trying to catch whatever bugs are flying around him in her little net.
I glance through the peephole.
Kyler is standing there.
Relief hits so fast it almost feels like vertigo.
“Ky—” I don’t finish his name. I’m already moving, stepping into him, wrapping my arms around him without thinking.
He catches me instantly, his strong arms holding me tightly against him. For a second, I just hold on, breathing him in, letting myself feel the fact that he’s here, that he’s okay.
That we’re both okay.
“I’m fine, Iv,” he murmurs quietly, his hand coming up to the back of my head in a gesture that’s so instinctive it almost hurts.
I close my eyes briefly because I feel it.
The difference. It’s subtle. But it’s there.
The comfort is still real. The safety is still there. The history, the love—it hasn’t disappeared.
But it’s not the same. Not the way it used to be. Not the kind of love that once pulled me toward him, made me believe I couldn’t breathe without him.
That…belongs somewhere else now.
And realizing that doesn’t hurt the way I thought it would.
It feels…right.
I pull back slowly, looking up at him, taking in the faint exhaustion in his eyes, the tension still sitting in his shoulders even though he’s trying to hide it.
“You’re back,” I say softly.
He nods once. “I am.”
I don’t ask where he’s been.
He doesn’t offer.
We both know better.
Instead, I go with, “Are you okay?”
He smiles, his eyes scanning my face in that same careful way he always has. The way Dalton does. “I’m good. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay actually,” I say honestly. “I think I finally am.”
“Good,” he says quietly.
I hesitate for half a second before asking, “Is it over?”
He studies me for a moment, like he’s deciding how much he can say. Then he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s over.”
My heart loosens in a way I didn’t realize it still needed to.
“They were running a distributed network,” he continues carefully. “Cells in different regions, funding pipelines, tech sourcing through private channels. The drones were just one part of it. Surveillance, intimidation, proving they could reach wherever they wanted.”
I shiver.
“They can’t anymore,” he adds, more firmly.
“What happened to them?” I ask quietly.
His jaw tightens slightly. “We dismantled the command structure,” he says. “Took out key leadership, disrupted their communication networks, froze funding where we could. The rest…without coordination, they don’t function the same way.”
I nod slowly, processing.
“We were able to rescue some hostages, too. Two Americans. And eight other women from a handful of other countries, too. They’re safe now.”
Emotion tightens in my chest.
Safe.
“Listen, I have to head back to North Carolina in the next couple of days, after I spend some time with Had.” He exhales, like he’s choosing what to say next.
“We’ve got a training rotation in Turkey.
My team got tapped for it. I’ll be gone for a few months.
” His hand comes up, lifting my chin gently until I meet his eyes.
“I won’t be off the grid,” he adds, softer now.
“So if you need anything—” He pauses, his voice tightening just slightly.
“I mean anything, Ivy…or if Hadley just wants to hear my voice…you call me. Anytime.”
I hate the idea of him leaving again. Of him being so far from us and so close to danger.
But this is what he does. What he loves.
What he was built for. And thanks to him, not only am I home safe, but so are at least ten others.
More if you include how many countless others Al-Shaheen could have abducted.
Before I can say anything else, the sound of the back door opening pulls our attention.
Dalton steps around the corner of the house, a spatula still in his hand. I hear Hadley’s little feet on the wood as she races toward the bathroom, clearly unaware that Kyler is here.
His eyes land on Kyler immediately. And then on me. Like he’s checking to make sure everything is okay and that Kyler didn’t bring bad news.
“You’re home,” he says.
“I am,” Kyler replies.
“Everything okay?”
“It is. I’m sure you’ll be briefed soon, but everything’s good.”
I glance at each man, feeling it, that quiet understanding that exists between them now—complicated, unspoken, but not sharp.
“I just put the burgers on,” Dalton adds, like this is normal. Like this is just another afternoon.
The toilet flushes and Hadley bounces around the corner, lighting up the second she sees Kyler. “Daddy!”
She runs straight to him, and he crouches down just in time to catch her as she throws her arms around his neck.
“Hey, Had,” he murmurs, smiling in a way that softens everything about him.
“Are you staying for dinner, too?” she asks immediately.
He glances up briefly—at me, then at Dalton a clear question on his face.
Then Dalton speaks first. “You should,” he says, tone easy but deliberate. “We’ve got plenty of food. Logan and Lila, Wells, Alinna, and Nick are coming over.”
Kyler studies him for half a second longer. Then nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay, that sounds great.”
Hadley grins, satisfied, still clinging to him.
And for the first time since all of this started—
Standing there between the two men who changed my life in completely different ways—
Something inside me settles.
Not perfectly.
Not completely.
But enough to breathe.