47. Felicity
FELICITY
The little girl wouldn’t let go of me.
Not for one second.
She sat curled against my side on the old farmhouse couch while the storm raged outside, her tiny fingers twisted tightly in my sweater like if she loosened her grip, something terrible would happen again.
Honestly?
Maybe she was right.
I brushed damp curls away from her face carefully. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Her voice barely existed.
“Mia.”
“You’re safe now, Mia.”
The words felt fragile leaving my mouth.
Because I wasn’t sure any of us were truly safe anymore.
Across the room, Hersh stood near the kitchen table with Wolf, Trigger, Ava, and Rook while Shadow Division spread photographs and maps across the surface.
The bloodstained flash drive sat in the middle.
Like a bomb nobody wanted to touch.
Rook finally picked it up.
“We need to see what’s on this.”
Trigger frowned. “You think it’s bad?”
Rook gave him a look.
“Mercer murdered a family to recover it.”
Trigger exhaled slowly. “Right. Dumb question.”
Hersh’s eyes lifted suddenly.
Straight to me.
Even across the room, the intensity in them wrapped around me instantly.
Checking.
Making sure I was okay.
Still breathing.
Still there.
My chest tightened painfully.
Sixteen years apart?—
and somehow this man still watched me like I mattered more than oxygen.
Rook noticed it too.
Of course he did.
The Shadow Division commander looked between us once before turning back toward the table.
“We access the drive now,” he said. “If Mercer’s mobilizing cleanup teams, we’re out of time.”
Wolf nodded. “What do you need?”
“One secure laptop.”
Trigger already moved.
“On it.”
The farmhouse became controlled chaos after that.
Operators securing exits.
Weapons checked.
Phones destroyed.
Routes discussed.
Storm rain hammered the windows while thunder rattled the walls hard enough to shake picture frames.
And through all of it?—
Hersh never stopped watching me.
Mia’s head slowly rested against my shoulder.
Exhaustion finally pulling her under.
The poor thing couldn’t have weighed more than forty pounds.
My throat tightened.
Someone had murdered her mother.
Probably right in front of her.
Monsters.
Absolute monsters.
I looked toward Hersh again.
He was already staring at me.
Always.
His expression shifted the second he saw the tears gathering in my eyes.
And before I knew it?—
he crossed the room.
Straight to me.
The others kept talking quietly behind him, but my entire world narrowed to Hersh kneeling in front of the couch.
His large hand slid carefully against Mia’s back first.
Protective.
Gentle.
Then his eyes lifted to mine.
“You okay?”
No.
Not even close.
But the way he asked?—
like he genuinely cared about the answer?—
nearly unraveled me.
I nodded anyway.
Because if I opened my mouth right now, I’d cry.
His thumb brushed softly beneath one of my eyes.
Catching a tear before it fell.
“Hey,” he murmured quietly.
That one word almost broke me.
I swallowed hard. “She watched them kill her mother.”
Pain flashed across his face instantly.
He glanced toward the sleeping little girl against me.
Then back to me.
“She’s alive because of you now.”
My chest ached.
“Hersh…”
“You hear me?” he said softly.
I nodded again.
But he still looked unconvinced.
Like he knew exactly how guilt was creeping inside me.
Like he understood I was already wondering if all these deaths somehow traced back to me.
His forehead touched mine gently.
Just for a second.
“None of this is your fault.”
The emotion that hit me then came fast and brutal.
Because nobody had said that to me.
Not once.
Not since this nightmare started.
I closed my eyes briefly.
And God help me?—
I leaned into him.
The room around us disappeared.
Thunder.
Voices.
Weapons.
Fear.
None of it mattered for one tiny heartbeat.
Just him.
Just us.
Then—
Trigger’s voice cut through the farmhouse sharply.
“Uh… guys?”
Hersh lifted his head instantly.
Every operative in the room turned toward the laptop on the kitchen table.
Trigger looked pale.
Actually pale.
Wolf stepped closer beside him. “What is it?”
Trigger swallowed once.
Then slowly turned the screen toward all of us.
Video footage filled the monitor.
Dark warehouse.
Cargo containers.
Armed men.
Children.
Dozens of them.
My stomach rolled instantly.
“Oh my God…”
But it wasn’t the children that froze Hersh beside me.
Or Rook.
Or anyone else in the room.
It was the man standing in the center of the screen.
Senator Mercer.
Smiling directly into the camera.
And behind him?—
painted across one of the cargo containers?—
was a symbol.
A black raven with spread wings.
The exact same emblem worn by the Shadow Division.