Chapter 20 #3
Charlie had spoken the word with the unquestioning certainty only children possessed, then fallen asleep as though she had merely stated something every adult in the room should have understood already.
I had spent weeks resisting the shape forming around the three of us because naming it made the possibility of losing it more real.
Now, as the first sunrise of Malachi’s deadline spilled pale gold across the conference-room windows, refusing the truth felt more dishonest than accepting the fear that came with it.
Sunshine was no longer standing near the edge of our lives.
She was inside them.
That realization did not make the threat easier to face.
It made every decision more dangerous because there were no longer clean lines between who I protected as Charlie’s father, who I protected as the chapter medic, and who I protected simply because loving her had become as instinctive as breathing.
The difference mattered. Protection born from love could still become control if fear was allowed to make every choice, and I had already come too close to crossing that line.
Toxic closed the folder in front of him and looked around the table.
“We recon before full daylight disappears. Knight and Gage take the western ridge. Mace and I approach from the river. Nobody crosses the property line, nobody engages, and nobody gets ambitious because they think three sunrises sounds dramatic.”
Mace leaned back in his chair. “You say that like ambition’s a character flaw.”
“In you, it is.”
“Unfair.”
“Accurate,” Lilith murmured.
A few tired smiles moved around the room, though no one mistook the humor for ease.
Every man preparing to leave understood Restoration might hold armed guards, underground cells, and a young woman Malachi had chosen specifically because her life could be used to fracture Sunshine’s judgment.
There would be no room for bravado once they reached the property.
Cipher rotated the three-dimensional map on the main screen. “Environmental scans show the western service tunnel extending approximately two hundred yards beyond the formal property boundary. The survey team marked the area as unstable soil and never investigated farther.”
Knight studied the contour lines. “Could be drainage.”
“Could be an escape route.”
“Or an access point hidden behind the ridge,” Gage added.
Autumn zoomed in on the contractor notes. “There’s a comment about repeated ground collapse near an abandoned logging cut. The property owner claimed old mining damage.”
“There are no mines in that section,” Cipher said.
“Then we found the likely tunnel entrance,” Toxic replied.
Sunshine shifted slightly when Charlie stirred, and every eye that had drifted toward them immediately returned to the map.
Nobody wanted my daughter hearing enough to understand what Restoration might be.
The brothers had learned to conduct dangerous conversations around children without allowing tone or language to create nightmares they were too young to process.
I crouched beside Sunshine’s chair.
“She needs sleep.”
“So do you,” she whispered.
“I’m fine.”
Her tired gaze moved over my face. “That answer keeps getting less convincing.”
“I’ll sleep when the teams return.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“I meant it both times.”
A faint smile appeared, then disappeared beneath worry as she looked toward the men gathering equipment.
“They’re going because of something I remembered.”
“They’re going because Malachi abducted Ruth.”
“What if Restoration is a trap?”
“It probably is.”
Her eyes widened.
I kept my voice low. “That doesn’t mean they’re walking into it. Reconnaissance gives us information without giving him the response he expects.”
“He expects me.”
“Yes.”
“And if he sees them?”
“He learns you didn’t come alone.”
The answer did not entirely comfort her, but something in her shoulders eased.
Sunshine glanced toward Charlie. “I want to take her upstairs.”
“I’ll carry her.”
“You’ve been awake all night.”
“So have you.”
“She’s already in my arms.”
The practical argument was true, but I understood what she was really asking. She needed to hold Charlie for a little longer, to feel the living proof that Malachi’s photographs had not transformed my daughter into another child she had failed to protect.
I nodded. “I’ll walk with you.”
Sunshine rose carefully, shifting Charlie’s weight against her shoulder without waking her. The family drawing had been placed on the table beside them, its folded purple roof still creased across the center. I picked it up before following them from the conference room.
The clubhouse hallways looked softer in the early light.
Men passed carrying weapons cases and waterproof packs, yet children’s drawings still lined the walls, and the scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen where Daisy had begun making enough breakfast for everyone.
Those contradictions no longer seemed unusual.
Our world had become a place where men prepared for violence beneath pictures of dragons because the purpose of every weapon was to preserve the childhood unfolding beside it.
Charlie’s room remained dim when we entered.
Sunshine lowered her onto the bed and gently removed the oversized shirt that had twisted around her knees, leaving her in the small shorts and undershirt beneath it.
I pulled the flowered blanket over her while Sunshine placed Mr. Pickles beneath one arm.
Charlie frowned in her sleep.
“Sunshine?”
“I’m here,” she whispered.
The tension left my daughter’s face immediately.
I stood beside them with the drawing still in my hand, feeling the simple exchange settle deeper than anything spoken in the conference room.
Sunshine looked toward the paper. “Can we fix it?”
“Charlie said we could.”
I carried it to the small desk and smoothed the crease carefully against the wood.
The purple roof would always show the fold, but the paper itself had not torn.
I found another piece of construction paper in the drawer, cut a narrow strip, and reinforced the back with tape before hanging it above Charlie’s bed again.
Sunshine joined me.
“You can still see where it bent.”
“Does that matter?”
“No.” Her gaze moved over the three figures standing beneath the roof. “I think I like that it survived.”
I looked at her.
The remark was not about paper.
“So do I.”
Her eyes shimmered, though exhaustion kept the emotion quiet. I reached for her hand and waited until her fingers closed around mine.
“Come downstairs and eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You still need to eat.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“I’m an excellent influence.”
“You forget half your meals.”
“And now I have several people reminding me.”
Sunshine’s mouth curved faintly. “You’re very difficult to argue with when you use my own words.”
“It’s a skill.”
Before we left, she bent and kissed Charlie’s forehead. The tenderness in the gesture did not carry uncertainty anymore. Sunshine loved her. She had said it aloud, and the truth had changed the way I saw every small act that followed.
In the hallway, I stopped her before we reached the stairs.
“Last night, you said you chose me.”
Sunshine turned, her expression immediately vulnerable.
“I meant it.”
“I know.”
“Do you regret telling me?”
“No.”
“Do you regret what I said?”
Her answer came without hesitation. “Never.”
The quiet certainty steadied me more than sleep could have.
“I love you,” I said.
Her eyes softened.
“I love you too.”
The words no longer felt impossible or premature. They felt terrifyingly true, which was something different entirely.
I leaned down and kissed her forehead rather than her mouth, aware that exhaustion and fear had made the night emotionally raw. The gesture was gentle, but Sunshine’s fingers caught the front of my shirt before I could step away.
“You can kiss me,” she whispered.
I searched her face. “You’re exhausted.”
“So are you.”
“That isn’t an argument.”
“I’m not asking for anything more.”
The distinction mattered.
I cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly, allowing the moment to remain soft.
There was desire beneath it, but neither of us needed to prove anything while Charlie slept only a few feet away and men prepared to search the place Malachi used as a threat.
The kiss became reassurance rather than escape, an agreement that whatever waited beyond the clubhouse would not erase what we had chosen inside it.
When we separated, Sunshine rested her forehead against my chest.
“Come back,” she said.
“I’m not leaving yet.”
“You will if someone gets hurt.”
She knew me too well.
“Yes.”
“Then come back when you do.”
I wrapped one arm around her. “I will do everything I can.”
She nodded against me, accepting the more honest promise.
Downstairs, the conference room had begun emptying.
Toxic checked weapons beside the back entrance while Knight secured a radio beneath his jacket.
Mace ate two pieces of toast at once because Lilith had threatened to confiscate his ammunition if he left without breakfast. Gage reviewed the western ridge map with Cipher, and Autumn packed cameras small enough to conceal beneath brush.
Toxic looked toward me as Sunshine and I entered.
“You’re staying here.”
It was not a question.
“I know.”
“If anyone gets hurt, they radio before returning.”
“I’ll have the clinic ready.”
“Carson has an ambulance staged three miles away.”
“Too visible if it moves closer.”
“That’s what I told him.”
We understood one another easily when the problem involved logistics. It was only fear surrounding the people we loved that turned every decision into an argument.
Toxic’s gaze moved to Sunshine. “We’ll bring back information.”
“Bring everyone back,” she replied.
His expression softened slightly. “That too.”
Lilith crossed the room and took Sunshine’s hands. “You’re not responsible for whatever happens on that property.”
Sunshine’s eyes lowered.