Chapter 28
MIA
The world hasn’t stopped spinning yet.
I clutch my daughters tightly, feeling their small, shaking bodies against mine. Their breaths come fast and uneven, their little gasps muffled against my jacket. My own hands tremble as I stroke their hair, whispering reassurances that feel paper-thin.
Around us, the Rangers secure the scene.
The rhythmic bark of orders, the crunch of boots on dirt, the metallic clicks of rifles being checked and secured—it all happens in a blur.
Two men restrain Jason, zip-tying his wrists behind his back even though he’s barely conscious.
Another team sweeps the perimeter, checking for stragglers.
The air hums with tense efficiency, but I only feel the warmth of my daughters, the life in them, the fact that they’re here and safe.
A shadow falls over us. I glance up to find Damon kneeling beside me, his gray eyes softer than I’ve ever seen them. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t have to. His hand presses gently against my back, grounding me.
Behind him, Asher stands with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable, but his knuckles are still white from gripping his weapon. Zane is the closest, crouching so that he’s at the girls’ eye level.
“Did you see?” Emma pipes up suddenly, her voice still shaky but proud. “I stayed quiet just like Secret Agent Zane taught us!”
Zane gives her a small, tired smile, running a hand over his buzzed hair. “I did see, baby deer. You did good.”
“And I remembered about the hiding place,” Ella adds, tugging on Asher’s sleeve, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Like Agent Asher said.”
Asher lets out a slow breath, then kneels, placing a hand on Ella’s tiny shoulder. “You did more than remember, munchkin,” he murmurs. “You were brave. Both of you.”
The girls beam, and for the first time since this nightmare started, something inside me loosens.
I meet Zane’s gaze over their heads. There’s something raw there, something fragile he doesn’t quite know how to name yet. Damon watches me the way he always does, like he already knows what I’m thinking. And Asher… Asher looks like he’s finally home.
For the first time in weeks, I feel safe.
Damon reaches the twins and lifts them into his arms without a word.
They don’t ask—they just know. Wrapping their small arms around him, they hold on tight.
Zane and Asher step in, their presence steady, their touch grounding.
No words are needed as they all huddle together, a quiet force of comfort and understanding.
My heart squeezes.
“I could have lost them. Lost you because of my stupidity,” Damon says, finally letting Asher take the girls. Tears streak down his face. Watching the six foot three feet tall tattooed man crying makes me awestruck. I never thought I would see him like this.
I reach out to him. “You didn’t. I’m here now, I’m okay. So are the girls. The nightmare is over.”
As if on cue, Jason groans behind us, a weak, wheezing sound. He’s not going to be a problem for now.
The paramedic’s light flicks across my pupils, too bright after everything. I blink against it, my body sore and my mind still catching up to reality. The twins sit on either side of me, wrapped in blankets, their little hands clutching mine like they’re afraid I’ll disappear if they let go.
“Any dizziness? Blurred vision?” the paramedic asks, tilting my chin slightly to check for swelling.
“No,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “Just... tired.”
He nods, moving to check Ella and Emma. They sit obediently as he goes through the motions, shining the light in their eyes, asking them to follow his finger. They’re brave, but the way they cling to me tells me just how scared they really were.
The paramedic gives me a nod, satisfied with his evaluation. “You should still get checked out at a hospital,” he says, but his voice is gentle. “Shock can creep up on you.”
Across the clearing, Jason is strapped onto a stretcher, his face a mess of bruises, his arm slung tight against his chest. He’s half-conscious, his lips moving like he wants to say something, but the Rangers pay him no mind as they load him into the waiting ambulance.
For the first time since this nightmare started, I don’t feel his shadow stretching over us.
A figure steps into my periphery. Damon.
I glance up at him, and for once, he looks unsure of himself. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his usual confidence replaced by something else. Something softer.
“How are they?” he asks, nodding toward the twins.
“They’re okay.” I brush my fingers over Emma’s damp curls, then Ella’s tiny hand. “We all are.”
Damon exhales, shifting his weight like he’s trying to find the right words. Finally, he just says it. “I’m sorry.”
I tilt my head. “For?”
He sighs, running a hand over his jaw. “For how I acted before. For pushing you away when I should’ve just... been there.”
I study him, seeing the exhaustion in his face, the lines of worry that have deepened over the past few days. “You were scared.”
His gaze flicks to the girls, who are now wrapped in a blanket together, murmuring to each other in that secret twin language of theirs. For once, Damon doesn’t try to deny it.
“Yeah,” he admits, voice rough. “I was.”
“It’s good.”
“They did good today,” he says, looking at the twins.
“Asher’s ridiculous lessons paid off,” I say.
Damon continues to look at them, something unreadable in his eyes. And then, something shifts. The weight lifts from his shoulders, and in its place, something else settles.
Pride.
I see it in the way a smile sneaks up his face.
Emma shifts, her blanket slipping from her shoulder. Damon moves on instinct, tucking it back around her. And just like that, the last bit of distance between them vanishes.
Ella watches him carefully, then whispers, “Are you gonna stay?”
Damon freezes.
I hold my breath.
His hand settles on the top of her head, fingers threading gently through her curls. “Yeah, baby,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I’m staying. I’ll always be there for you.”
The police station is colder than I expected.
Or maybe it’s just me, still coming down from the adrenaline.
The girls are asleep in the next room, tucked onto a bench with blankets a kind officer found for them.
Damon sits beside me, his broad shoulders squared as he speaks to the detective taking our statements.
“…And that’s when we found her in the clearing with Jason,” he finishes. His voice is steady, but I know him well enough now to hear the undercurrent of anger beneath it.
The detective nods, scribbling something onto his notepad. “Yeah, this guy has a list of warrants the length of his arm. I don’t know who’ll get him first—state or federal—but he’s going to prison for a long time.”
I exhale, tension leaving my body in increments. Jason is finally out of my life. Out of my girls’ lives.
The door opens, and Asher and Zane step inside.
Zane takes a quick survey of the room before his gaze lands on me. I see it in his face—his own way of checking, assessing, making sure I’m okay. His eyes linger on the bruises forming on my wrist from Jason’s grip, and his jaw clenches.
Asher, on the other hand, walks straight to me, crouching in front of my chair. “How are the girls?”
“Asleep,” I say, my voice softer now.
“They did really good today,” Asher says.
“Yeah. All thanks to you three and your training,” I say.
Zane shakes his head. “That’s not it. They get their strength from you, Mia.”
Something warm settles in my chest, and I finally let myself take them all in.
Damon, still speaking with the officer, his presence solid and unshakable. The protector who would tear the world apart for us.
Zane, arms crossed, standing just to my side, his eyes scanning everything and everyone. The man who would see the threat before it even reached us.
Asher puts an arm over my shoulder and gives a slight squeeze, and I instinctively lean into his touch. That’s Asher—ready to pull me close or give me space, whichever I need.
Different strengths. Different kinds of care.
I’ve been trying so hard to figure this out, to make sense of what we were. But sitting here, looking at them, the answer is obvious.
They aren’t just my protectors. They’re my family.
The cold air drafting down the station vents fades away, and a warm feeling takes over my belly.
The officer closes his notepad and gives me a small nod. “That should be all for now, Ms. Henson. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
I nod, grateful to be done. To be free of rehashing the nightmare of the last few days. I push up from my chair, stretching my stiff muscles as I glance toward the adjoining room where the girls are still curled up under their blankets.
A large, warm hand presses against the small of my back. I turn to find Zane watching me, his expression softer than usual. “Let’s get you home,” he says.
Home. The word hits deep, an anchor I hadn’t realized I needed.
Damon speaks briefly with the officers before joining us
Asher leans in the doorway, arms crossed, but his eyes crinkle with exhaustion when he looks at me. “Ready?”
I exhale. “More than ready.”
The ride back is quiet. The girls sleep in the backseat, safe and sound, while I sit between Asher and Zane. Damon drives, his grip firm on the wheel. The roads are familiar, the winding path leading us back to where this all began.
When we pull up to the house, Emma stirs first, rubbing her eyes before they widen. “We’re home?”
“Yep, baby,” I whisper, brushing her hair back.
Ella stretches beside her, then gasps. “Mommy! Our house!”
The twins tumble out of the car before I can even open the door fully, giggling as they race to the front steps. They’re safe. They’re happy. And even as exhaustion clings to me, I feel the same.
Zane carries in our bags while Damon checks the locks. Asher drops onto the couch, letting the girls pile onto his lap, babbling about their favorite stuffed animals and how they missed their real beds.
Later, after the twins are tucked into those very beds, I find the three of them in the kitchen. They lean against the counters, exhaustion making their edges rougher, but there’s an ease between them now that wasn’t there before.
I step forward, resting my hands against the table. “So,” I say, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down. “About that unconventional arrangement...”
Zane exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It’s crazy.”
“Completely impossible,” Asher adds, shaking his head.
Damon’s lips curl into a rare smirk. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
I let the tension ease from my shoulders and extend my hands, palm up, to all three of them.
“Then,” I say, my voice steady, “let’s give it a try. All four of us.”
Zane’s fingers are the first to slide into mine, strong and sure.
Asher follows, squeezing gently.
Damon stares for a long moment, then huffs out a breath, clasping my other hand in his.
I don’t know what the future looks like, but for the first time in years, I’m not scared of it. Because I won’t be facing it alone.