Chapter 48
KIRA
The snowglobe of life keeps shaking for the rest of the day and several of the days that follow. There are a few quiet moments when things seem to settle, but then a flurry of activity stirs everything up again.
There are no massive upheavals, though. It’s more as if someone is studying the globe’s contents, gently tilting it side to side, before setting it back down. I try to get used to the rocking motion as best I can.
When I finally go outside the day of the invasion, the air tastes like smoke and metal.
Clean snow has been trampled into ugly gray slush.
One of the camera poles has been knocked down, and a section of the inner fence has been damaged.
There are scorch marks on the earth, and a dark gouge in the ground that looks like someone’s taken a bite of the mountain.
There are still strangers everywhere, men dressed in tactical gear, tagging evidence, acting like this is another day at the office.
I stay inside the circle my three men make around me. Atlas’s hand never seems to leave my back. Grizz stays close, stubbornly rigid, clearly in pain but denying it. Viper continues to track every movement, everywhere, seemingly all at once.
His vigilance should scare me, but it makes me feel safe.
I’ll never stop being relieved that they’re alive.
Seeing what the compound looks like … I can’t even imagine what they went through … risking their lives for me.
Atlas dips his head to speak quietly next to my ear. “You’re doing good.”
My throat tightens, thick with emotion. When I shake it off, I say, “I’m not doing anything. My legs are still shaking.”
Grizz squeezes my shoulder. “You’re staying upright. On a day like today, that’s a win.”
I laugh in a way that’s awfully close to crying.
Eventually, a medic corners us in the mudroom. “Any of you need attention?” he asks.
Atlas and Viper both point at Grizz, who shoots them a dirty look, “Traitors,” he grumbles.
After a few objections, Grizz finally lowers himself onto a bench, wincing as he moves.
When I go to his side, he holds out a palm to stop me.
With my nerves frayed and my emotions overloaded, I snap. “You want me to stop?” The fierceness in my voice surprises me. “Stop looking? Stop caring? Should I ignore the fact that you got injured while you were saving my life?”
His expression softens, and I nearly cry again.
Atlas rubs my shoulder. “Let the medic work, sweetheart.”
The doctor is already cutting Grizz’s jacket away, exposing more blood-soaked fabric beneath it. Grizz’s breath hitches once, then steadies. He fixes his eyes on my face and keeps them there the entire time he’s tended to.
The medic efficiently cleans and bandages Grizz’s wounds, takes his vitals, and gives him antibiotics, and Grizz sits through it all like a man being tortured. He’s advised to get a thorough evaluation at the hospital, and I intend to make sure he does.
Hours later, after several detailed statements are taken from all of us, the federal team finally leaves.
Three days later, agents return. Not the same crew. These are men in suits who speak in careful tones. They look like they need coffee.
They set up at the long dining table and spend the greater part of a day questioning me.
Atlas stays in the room the entire time, and so does Grizz, whose arm is in a sling. I’m sure he’d prefer to pace the floor, but thanks to his cracked ribs, he’s forced to mostly sit. When I’m not being questioned, he allows me to bring him fresh ice packs without telling me he doesn’t need them.
Viper is nearby most of the time, too. He splits his attention between my testimony and the invisible threat he may never stop tracking.
The agent’s questions are never-ending. I have to go over the same territory countless times from every direction, relaying every little thing I can remember about names, conversations, and timelines.
I understand the importance of it, but spending hours talking about my former life makes my stomach ill.
When we’re already hours into the process, one of the agents looks at me from across his coffee cup that Atlas frequently refills. “Your testimony matters, but it appears that Vaughn will be cooperating.”
“Cooperating?” I’d been imagining him behind bars, still ranting and raving.
“In exchange for a reduced sentence,” the agent says evenly. “He has all the information we need to dismantle the network.”
“So he gets to trade other people’s lives for his own freedom?”
The agent doesn’t even flinch. “He’ll still go away, but he’ll be offered a deal. The upside for you is that it strengthens the prosecution and reduces the chance of retaliation, because his testimony will take down the infrastructure around him.”
I try to process what this all means for my future.
“Your input is still critical, however.”
I swallow hard and glance down at my rounded belly.
“You’ll be protected,” the agent says in a softer tone. “There are options for relocation, if necessary.”
My men do their silent communication thing, and I’m learning to read it now, too. Only if we have to, their eyes say.
I’m fairly certain I’d feel at home anywhere as long as I’m with the three of them, but they are as much a part of this mountain as the pine trees and the snow, and it’s a part of each of them.
Based on my brief visits to town, I like Moon Ridge a lot, too.
I don’t want to have to disappear again.