26. Nora #2
Paxton immediately relaxes slightly. That alone says too much. The meeting deteriorates quickly after that.
No formal punishment because technically all four children participated physically, but there’s plenty of careful adult language about “future behavioral monitoring” and “social adjustment concerns,” that makes me want to scream by the time we finally leave the office.
Outside in the parking lot, Lena immediately grabs Paxton’s hand.
Do you want ice cream? she signs hopefully.
Paxton nods enthusiastically, like he wasn’t bleeding ten minutes ago. Children are terrifyingly resilient.
Stryker looks at all of us quietly before saying and signing, “How about the park first.”
Nobody argues. The drive there is oddly silent.
I ride with Stryker in my Subaru passenger seat, because Paxton refuses to let go of Lena, and the children pile into the backseat together still signing furiously about playground politics like nothing happened.
Viper and Blade follow behind us in the SUV.
When we reach the park, the children sprint toward the playground immediately.
Or Lena sprints. Paxton follows more carefully because he’s learned over the years that hearing children move unpredictably around equipment and he compensates visually for everything.
Stryker tracks both kids automatically from the second they leave the car. The four of us settle at one of the picnic tables near the playground while the late afternoon sun throws long shadows across the pavement. For several minutes nobody speaks.
Then Viper exhales sharply. “Well. That went poorly.”
“That school isn’t gonna work long term,” I agree immediately.
Stryker nods once. “Agreed.”
Blade leans back against the bench beside me. “The administration’s already framing Paxton as the problem instead of the target.”
I press my fingers against my temple tiredly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. Public schools wouldn’t accommodate him properly. This place technically accommodates him, but apparently, socially, it’s a nightmare.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Stryker says calmly.
We. Like it’s automatic now. Like he genuinely means it.
“I can’t just keep uprooting him every few months,” I mutter. “That’s not stability.”
“Homeschooling might honestly be better,” Blade says carefully. “Especially temporarily.”
I look at him immediately. “You think I can homeschool a deaf child while working full time?”
“No,” Viper says lightly. “We think we can help you and you can either homeschool the kids or continue to work and we’ll pay for a teacher for them.”
There it is again. We. Help you. I stare down at my hands for a second before speaking honestly, because apparently emotional exhaustion strips away some defenses automatically.
“How am I supposed to trust this?” I ask quietly. “Any of it.”
The men go still. I force myself to continue anyway.
“You’re criminals,” I say bluntly. “Actual criminals. You torture people. You’re in wars with cartels and mafia organizations and human traffickers apparently. How am I supposed to look at that and think it’s safe for my son?”
None of them interrupt me. That somehow makes it worse. Finally Stryker speaks.
“Look at the kids.”
I glance toward the playground automatically. Lena and Paxton are halfway up the climbing structure, signing animatedly at each other, while another little girl watches them curiously.
“Now look at us,” Stryker says quietly.
I do. Three dangerous men sitting around a picnic table watching those children like the entire world narrows down to their safety specifically.
“Does the job matter more than what we’ve shown you about who we are as men, partners, and fathers?” Viper asks softly.
I hate that I don’t have an immediate answer because objectively yes it should. Criminals, murders, essentially versus some breakfasts and park trips shouldn’t weigh out the way it is. But emotionally?
Emotionally these men have done nothing except protect us since the second they found me again. The contradiction is unbearable. Before I can respond, movement near the playground catches Stryker’s attention instantly.
All three men straighten simultaneously. Two unfamiliar men stand near the edge of the park talking to Lena and Paxton.
Every instinct in my body sharpens immediately. Then all three men are moving. Fast.
They aren’t panicked enough to alarm the children, but fast enough that I realize something is genuinely wrong. Hands hover near what I quickly realize are concealed weapons under jackets while they cross the grass.
My stomach drops. I stand, automatically following several steps behind. One of the strange men notices them approaching first. He says something too low for me to hear clearly before glancing toward Paxton. Then his eyes land on Stryker. Recognition flashes instantly.
“Joquain says hello.”
Accent thick and voice cold. The entire atmosphere changes. Viper and Blade spread slightly apart automatically without even looking at each other. The second man smirks faintly before both of them start walking away
“We’ll take the kids,” Stryker says sharply. “Go after them.”
Blade and Viper move immediately after the men. My pulse spikes hard enough that I feel dizzy. Paxton notices the tension now. Lena too. Both children look confused as Stryker reaches them.
Time to go, he signs roughly to Paxton. We’re going to show you where we live today!
Paxton looks delighted by this for some reason. I barely process getting shepherded back toward the Subaru because my brain is still stuck on the name.
Joquain. The cartel leader. The man they’re supposedly at war with. The man somehow connected to trafficking networks. The man whose people just approached my child in a public park.
Stryker gets all of us into the Subaru quickly while somehow keeping his expression calm enough not to frighten the kids. Lena immediately starts distracting Paxton by signing about dinosaurs. I sit frozen in the passenger seat.
“Stryker—”
“You’re okay,” he says firmly, while starting the car.
The tone alone tells me enough. We are not okay.
Not really.
Still, he drives calmly through town, like this is any normal afternoon, while my mind races violently beside him.
“Where are we going?” I ask finally.
“The clubhouse.”
I stiffen immediately.
He glances at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “Just listen first.”
The children continue signing in the backseat, completely unaware that my entire life seems to be tilting sideways again.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull into a massive fenced property filled with motorcycles, large industrial buildings, armed men moving between them, and security cameras mounted high enough to catch every angle. My stomach twists hard.
Stryker parks my Subaru and kills the engine before turning toward the backseat.
“Lena,” he says calmly, “take Paxton out and stay by the car a minute.”
She nods immediately. Paxton follows her without complaint, though he looks curious. Once the doors shut behind them, silence fills the vehicle heavily. Then Stryker looks at me fully for the first time since the park.
“I need you to understand something,” he says quietly. “If you’d walked back into our lives two years ago, things would be different. Safer.”
I swallow hard but say nothing.
“You caught us in the middle of a war,” he continues. “That part’s true. But regardless of any of that, nothing is happening to you or Paxton.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Yes,” he says evenly. “I can.”
The certainty in his voice nearly shakes me more than the threat itself. He leans back slightly against the seat before continuing.
“To us, you and Paxton are already ours, same as Lena is. You don’t have to like hearing that yet. You don’t even have to fully trust us yet. But it’s still true.”
Emotion clogs my throat unexpectedly because that’s the real problem here.
The gates, the armed men, the cameras watching every inch of the property—I can handle all of that.
What unsettles me is how quickly I believe him when he says we’re safe here, like some exhausted part of me has already started lowering defenses I fought for years to build.
Stryker exhales slowly before adding, “And there’s another reason you’re staying here for now.”
I blink at him.
“What?”
“We recovered another shipment recently of women. There may be some you know. We have found out they are connected to the same trafficking organization as that masquerade ball.”
Ice slides down my spine instantly and I stare at him in horror. He nods once. My stomach turns violently. For a second I’m twenty-one again, hearing Valentina scream in Spanish while van doors slam shut.
Stryker’s voice softens slightly. “Come inside. You can ask questions while I show you around.”
Outside the windshield, Lena and Paxton stand beside the Subaru signing animatedly beneath the fading evening light while armed men move quietly across the compound around them.
For one terrifying second, the scene looks almost normal. Then Stryker opens his door and the illusion disappears completely.