20. Epilogue What We Seek #2
Shereen adds, “And classes. Lamaze, Pilates, breath work, gentle movement. Not only for birth. For panic attacks, PTSD, and learning how to trust your own body again after fear has been living in it too long.” Her hand rests lightly over the small curve of her stomach.
“Small, steady things that help people feel safe inside themselves again.”
“Self-defense too,” Steve says. “Not because every woman has to fight, but because knowing you have options changes how you move through the world.”
Adrian looks across the table. “Funding can’t remain a blank check from Blackstone and whoever else we quietly lean on.”
Steve’s mouth quirks. “Feeling the pinch?”
“No,” Adrian says dryly. “I’m discovering even billionaires prefer budgets.”
Riley pats his arm. “He means yes.”
That earns another laugh, even from Victor.
Then Adrian’s expression settles into business. “A foundation arm makes sense. Quiet at first. Proper governance. Legal separation from covert operations. Enough legitimacy to work with vetted agencies without exposing HAVEN’s field side.”
Victor taps notes into his phone. “We’ll need compliance, directors, audit trails, controlled access, and layers between public work and operational intelligence.”
“Faith,” Steve and I say together.
Victor’s mouth almost curves. “Obviously.”
Jan glances at her phone. “Eleni emailed this morning. She’s safe, but she’s worried she’ll never work in aid again after Greece.”
“Would she want to?” Mercy asks.
“I think so,” I say. “Like Solace, she still wants to help. Just not inside a system she can’t trust anymore.”
Steve looks at me. “You’ve got an idea.”
“When this settles, we bring her to San Francisco for training. Free. Survivor protocols, red flags, documentation, secure reporting. Then, if she wants it, she becomes one of our trusted contacts in Greece, or in any vetted aid camp where we need eyes we can trust.”
Victor’s pen stills.
Adrian looks across the table. “That’s a network.”
“Yes,” I say. “One person at a time.”
Blueberry bumps her head under Lorelei’s hand. Duchess watches from the bench with slow blinks. Angus snores through the birth of institutional strategy.
Faris, meanwhile, has somehow acquired Steve’s precious barbecue tongs and is attempting to drag them beneath the outdoor lounge. Steve gets up and rescues them with a shake of his head. “Oi. Cheeky bugger.”
He gives Faris a teasing little snap, snap toward his fluffy backside with the tongs. Faris dooks once and runs back to me retreating into my overshirt with all the dignity of someone convinced he’s won.
Naughty Slinky…
I look around the table, at the people who built HAVEN in shadows and now want to build something that can stand in daylight.
“We’re not launching it tomorrow,” I say.
“No,” Adrian agrees. “But we can start designing it.”
Steve’s hand finds mine beneath the table.
The future won’t wait until the war is over.
Apparently, neither will we.
Blackstone Ventures HQ, San Francisco. 1600 hours
By late afternoon, everyone who can be in the same room is gathered in the secure briefing room at Blackstone Ventures HQ, and Victor looks almost pleased about it.
I scoop Faris into his travel pouch, earning a sleepy complaint before he curls back into a warm little ball. Apparently, international anti-trafficking strategy can wait until after his afternoon nap.
We walk in to find Destiny and Angus already there with little Claudine swaddled in her pram, looking impossibly angelic as she sleeps. The women immediately gravitate toward her one by one, completely predictable.
Mercy gets there first, followed by Serenity, Liberty, and finally me, each of us stealing a quiet cuddle while Angus watches with the relaxed confidence of a father who's learned that babies have a habit of collecting aunties.
Destiny sits back with a contented smile, looking thoroughly pleased with herself as Claudine charms the room without even opening her eyes.
When Victor calls everyone to the table, Angus gently wheels the pram alongside Destiny's chair before taking his own seat beside her. Claudine sleeps through the entire rearrangement, blissfully unaware that she's about to attend her first HAVEN strategy meeting.
Victor looks quietly pleased to have the team in one place again, though he keeps it brief because Victor never wastes time when there’s work waiting.
The wall screens are alive with files from Greece, Italy, San Francisco, and every piece of Meridian rot we’ve dragged into the light so far.
Over the past week, Felicity has expanded her interactive map again, transforming thousands of disconnected data points into a clear visual network of fronts, routes, money, and people.
It’s become the quickest way to understand just how far Meridian reaches.
Steve stands beside me with one hand resting lightly at my back. Adrian and Riley are near the main table, while the rest of the team finds a spot to occupy. The table is full of people.
Renzo stands near the end of the briefing table with a tablet in one hand and the expression of a man who regrets every manifest HAVEN has ever sent him.
“You gave me a mountain,” he says.
Steve lifts his coffee. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.” Renzo glances at the files.
“But AISE has the Italian side contained. Two port officials detained. Three yacht registrations frozen. One shell company tied to Stavros is now under seizure review. Your Greece data matched transfers through Sicily and Calabria. It’s not everything, but it closes several exits. ”
“And Stavros?” I ask.
“Still missing,” Renzo says. “But he’s lost properties, routes, money, and protection. He’ll surface eventually. And we’ve collected evidence from the wall scratchings in the building where Solace was being held prisoner.”
Renzo looks at Nikolai who lifts his chin slightly.
Victor looks toward Crew.
Crew shrugs. “The boat’s already been repainted, re-registered, and sold.”
Steve blinks. “Sold?”
“Legally,” Crew says. “Nice little fishing boat now.”
Nobody asks any more questions.
Victor nods. “Loose ends on the women?”
Mercy looks down at her notes. “Four are staying in Europe with family or verified support.
Three have entered long-term safe housing through vetted partner agencies.
Lina and Amina arrived in the US earlier this week under humanitarian protection.
Lina's prenatal care has already started. Solace is here now, officially consulting with HAVEN as Director of Global Outreach.”
Solace glances around the room, then gives a small, steady smile.
“Which means I help HAVEN reach vulnerable communities before Meridian does. Camps, border routes, aid organizations, women’s shelters.
I build relationships, train people to recognize red flags, and make sure concerns reach someone who can act before women disappear into paperwork. ”
Nikolai’s hand closes around hers.
No one comments. Everyone notices.
Victor lets the room hold that win for a few seconds.
Then his expression changes.
“Now the next one.”
The main screen darkens, then brings up a file marked Meridian Memory Institute.
My stomach drops before he speaks.
“I know. The number keeps growing,” Victor says. “Ninth Meridian front. The most disturbing yet.”
A facility photo appears. Clean glass. Soft lighting. Wellness language polished until it gleams.
“They claim to treat trauma with experimental therapy,” Victor continues. “But the treatments aren’t healing memories. They’re erasing them.”
The room goes very still.
Felicity’s fingers stop moving over her keyboard.
Victor brings up another file. “Psychological reprogramming. Drug-assisted conditioning. Family access restricted. Patient histories altered.”
A photo fills the screen.
Bliss Fontaine, twenty-eight. French-Canadian artist. Bright eyes. Paint on her fingers. A smile too alive for the file beside it.
“Bliss entered the institute six weeks ago for PTSD treatment,” Victor says, his gaze flicking briefly to Liberty and Cole. “Her artwork changed first. The vibrant colors vanished. Then her family reported she no longer recognized them.”
Cole goes very still beside Liberty.
Her hand finds his without looking, and he holds on like the contact is the only thing keeping him seated.
Dr. Tran’s face has gone pale and furious.
“They’re not just taking bodies anymore,” Victor says quietly. “They’re taking minds.”
Across the table, Angus's expression turns lethal. “Then it's time we paid our Meridian guests another visit. I think they've still got a few answers left.”
Victor doesn’t look away from Bliss Fontaine’s photograph. “Yes. It is.”
On the screen, Meridian’s compass rose logo begins to spin.
Experimental drugs. Brainwashing. Memory destruction dressed up as treatment.
The enemy has found a new weapon.
And HAVEN is about to face its most terrifying mission yet.
I look at Cole and Liberty’s joined hands, then back at Bliss Fontaine’s fading artwork on the screen.
Trauma is supposed to be carried gently, not harvested.
Whatever Meridian has built this time, they’ve mistaken wounds for doorways.
And HAVEN is about to close them.
THE END
Thank you for reading Nikolai and Solace's story.