35. Felicity
FELICITY
Rain hammered the windshield so hard I could barely see the road.
Lightning flashed across the Texas sky in violent white bursts, illuminating the trees lining the highway for half a second before darkness swallowed everything again.
I sat in the passenger seat of Hersh’s truck, gripping the door handle tighter every mile we got closer to where I grew up. The drive was long. Hersh insisted on driving because he felt it was safer.
It’s not my home anymore, it hasn’t been since I left for college.
It’s just the house now.
Beside me, Hersh drove one-handed.
Steady.
Calm.
But I could feel the tension in him anyway.
The kind that sat low and dangerous beneath the surface.
Trigger and Wolf followed behind us in Wolf’s truck.
Tate stayed back with Vaughn, and Ava stayed behind protecting Isabel.
.
Ava was trying to get information through federal channels without tipping off the wrong people.
Nobody trusted anybody anymore.
Not fully.
Not after tonight.
“You okay?” Hersh asked quietly.
The question almost broke me.
Because somehow after everything?—
the lies,
the danger,
the letters,
the cartel…he still asked me that, like my feelings mattered.
“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly.
Lightning flashed again.
Hersh’s jaw tightened briefly as he glanced toward me.
“We don’t stay long.”
I nodded.
But deep down?
I already knew this wasn’t going to be simple.
Nothing about tonight had been simple.
The second the house came into view, my stomach twisted violently.
Small white farmhouse.
Wraparound porch.
Dark windows.
The porch swing Dad used to sit on every evening after dinner still moved slightly in the wind.
God.
For one terrible second I almost expected him to walk outside.
Alive.
Holding coffee.
Telling me the storm was getting worse.
Pain punched straight through my chest.
Hersh parked near the porch but didn’t immediately kill the engine.
Rain pounded the roof.
Neither of us moved.
Then quietly?—
“Flick.”
I looked at him.
His expression softened instantly.
“You don’t have to do this tonight.”
Yes.
I did.
Because suddenly I needed the truth more than I needed safety.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
Lie.
But he let me keep it.
Outside, Wolf’s headlights cut through the rain as they pulled in behind us.
Trigger climbed out first and immediately looked miserable.
“I hate this weather,” he muttered, sprinting around the truck.
I could barely breathe.
Hersh came around the truck fast, opening my door before I touched the handle.
Always protecting.
Always there.
His hand wrapped around mine the second my boots hit the wet gravel.
Warm.
Solid.
And suddenly I realized something terrifying:
I trusted him with my life.
Completely.
The porch creaked beneath our weight as we climbed the steps.
Everything smelled like rain and old wood.
Memories hit me so hard I almost staggered.
Christmas mornings.
My mother laughing in the kitchen.
My father teaching me how to ride a bike.
Teenage me sneaking outside to kiss Hersh after football games.
God.
Hersh’s thumb brushed lightly against my hand like he could feel me unraveling.
Maybe he could.
Wolf checked the windows first.
“Clear.”
Trigger tested the front door.
Unlocked.
All four of us froze instantly.
I stared at the door.
“No…”
I always locked it before leaving.
Always.
Hersh slowly moved in front of me.
Protective wall immediately.
“When were you here last?” Wolf asked quietly.
“Sixteen months ago.”
Trigger’s expression darkened.
“Well somebody’s been busy since then.”
Lightning exploded overhead.
The lights inside the house flickered once.
Then died completely.
Darkness swallowed everything.
And somewhere deeper inside the house?—
something crashed.