Chapter 5
“Here, let me help you up.”
She almost slapped his hand away, but with how her legs resembled half-set Jello, she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to make it on her own.
She took the help he offered, scrambled to her feet, and glanced around.
Sometime while she’d been wailing on the ground, the rest of the people had disappeared.
Can you blame them? You were being more dramatic than Scarlett freaking O’Hara.
She had to make a concerted effort not to allow herself to fall into the ‘poor me’ mindset that had become almost her entire existence since she’d lost Kelsey.
She’s here. She’s safe. Therapy can help with the rest… I hope. I’ve no idea how I’ll afford it, but I’ll make it happen, if I have to rock up to a street corner looking for a pimp or dance on some old dude’s limp dick lap for the rest of my days.
“I got you.”
Glenna stiffened when the help to her feet turned into an awkward one-armed hug, as Tyrone slung his arm around her shoulders.
Who does he think he is?
It was so absurdly foreign to have a man touching her with care after so long, yet there was a part of her that craved the steadiness of his help, and she couldn’t resist leaning into it for just a heartbeat—a fleeting moment—before the ghost of Dwight’s memory pressed against her heart with the weight of a thousand regrets.
It should be him.
He should be here with us.
Damn you, Dee. Damn you for leaving us to figure everything out alone.
She swallowed the bitter tang of grief that rose in her throat, choking back a flood of emotions that had been brimming just beneath the surface.
Forcing a shaky smile, which, even to herself, felt like a ghoulish Halloween mask, so lord knows what Tyrone was thinking right now.
She let him guide her under the arch into a sprawling courtyard and then into a kitchen that buzzed with life and warmth.
A symphony of laughter and chatter hit them as they walked in the door.
She wasn’t sure she was ready to face a whole bunch of people, especially not when all she wanted to do was rip Kelsey’s hand from Tyrone’s and disappear into a bolt hole to snuggle her baby until she believed she had her back.
But for the freshly brewed coffee mixed with pancakes that she was smelling, she could make an effort.
These people saved Kelsey. Don’t be rude.
She could barely keep up with the quick introductions as Tyrone began to name the people waiting for them.
“Glenna, this is Jorja.” He nodded toward a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes who smiled at her. “And this is Serena. Siobhán. Petra.”
The names blurred together in her mind, but she managed a tentative nod, her fingers tightening instinctively around Kelsey’s shoulder.
This is real. She’s really here.
Across the room, a little girl with wild curls and a gap-toothed grin waved exuberantly from a chair at the table.
“That’s Ember!” someone said—Serena, perhaps, her voice bright and inviting in the cozy whirlwind of the kitchen.
“And this terror’s Jules.” The second little girl reminded Glenna of a younger version of Levi.
This was the childhood she had envisioned for Kelsey, filled with laughter and warmth. Did it make her a horrible person that she was envious of the happiness she could see was here, but had always been just out of her reach?
“Coffee?” A red-haired woman pushed a steaming mug toward her. “There’s been a lot of names thrown at you. I’m Siobhán.”
“Thank you, Siobhán.” Glenna wrapped both hands around the ceramic cup, feeling its warmth seep into her skin, grounding her amidst the chaos swirling within and around her.
She discreetly pinched the inside of her wrist to make sure this wasn’t some kind of dream where she’d wake up and search for her daughter only to find herself alone.
If this was a blockbuster, I’d think it was way too far-fetched to happen.
She struggled to wrap her mind around the fact Kelsey was right here, wiggling into the chair beside her, chattering with excitement about ‘Uncle Ty’s magic birds.’
Her throat constricted painfully. She’d missed so much of her child’s life. She should’ve been the one to protect her, to hear all the stories first, the one to marvel at such simple wonders as the butterfly Kelsey was telling Ember and Jules about.
I’m a sucky mom.
What kind of mother lets her child be taken away from her, not only into the system, but then doesn’t even know when that child has been kidnapped?
Me. I’m that kind of mom.
The guilt was a heavy blanket that threatened to suffocate her, but she tucked her daughter closer to her side, her fingers brushing against the tangled ends of Kelsey’s hair. Her fingers knew every curl, every wave.
This really isn’t a dream.
Not this time.
In this kitchen, surrounded by laughter and lively chatter, she could almost forget the darkness that constantly loomed just outside the door of her mind for way longer than she’d ever admit.
The men began to file out, their conversations fading into the background like echoes of an unfamiliar song. Tyrone lingered for a brief moment, his jaw tight, his features set in a focused expression.
“I gotta go do some work,” he explained. “But I can stay if you need me to?”
“You’re fine.” She offered him what she hoped was a smile. “I’ve got all I could ever want or need, right here.”
“Okay. I’ll be in the office next door. If you need to come and get me, or send Kelsey to the war-room for me. She knows where it is.” He tipped his fingers to his forehead and left.
The kitchen, filled with women chatting and laughing, was too much and too fast, like a whirlwind spinning just beyond her reach.
But Kelsey’s warmth against her side, and the connection that held them together like an unbreakable thread?
That was something she’d hold onto forever.
It was everything worth fighting for. In that sacred space filled with hope and tentative joy, she knew she’d had something precious returned to her—something that she would never let go of again… Kelsey.
The coffee in her mug sloshed dangerously close to the rim, threatening to spill over, and she had to make a concerted effort to force herself to stop shaking.
Breathe.
The word echoed in her skull, a command she barely recognized as her own.
The kitchen hummed around her—a symphony of laughter, the clatter of dishes being stacked, the low murmur of voices weaving in and out of one another—but it all blurred into white noise, drowned out by the roar in her ears.
The scent of coffee, pancakes, and something faintly floral hung thick in the air, grounding her just enough to keep her from spiraling.
Kelsey’s voice cut through the haze she was struggling to contain. “Mommy, look.”
Her pulse stuttered in her throat as Kelsey held up a crumpled sheet of paper.
The drawing was a lopsided bird with too many wings, its feathers splayed like fireworks across the page, and beside it, a stick-figure man with a wide, crooked smile.
The words Uncle Zorro were scrawled beneath it in wobbly, uneven letters, the last o trailing off as if Kelsey had lost patience with it halfway through.
The sight hit Glenna like a fist to the sternum, knocking the air from her lungs.
She drew him.
Not Dwight. Not the father she’d lost to the cruelty of war and the indifference of bureaucracy. But the stranger—the man who had come to save her from the horrors no child should face.
“It’s beautiful,” she managed. She reached out, tracing the waxy lines with a trembling fingertip.
The crayon had pressed so hard in places that the colors bled through to the other side.
“Did you—did you draw this here?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
The kitchen table was littered with crayons, their paper wrappers peeled back, some snapped in half from the pressure of small, eager hands.
Kelsey nodded enthusiastically, her braids bouncing with the movement. “Daddy’s birds are magic, and I made Uncle Zorro’s magic, too.” She pointed at the bird. “See? It’s got extra wings so it can fly super high, just like Daddy’s did.”
The words twisted something deep inside Glenna, a knot of grief and gratitude tangling so tightly she could barely breathe. Daddy’s birds. Dwight’s call sign—Raven—the one he’d earned for his ability to slip in and out of hostile territory unseen, like a shadow with wings.
A chair scraped against the tile beside her, and Jorja slid into the seat, her sharp features softened by something akin to understanding. Her dark eyes reflected a depth Glenna hadn’t noticed before.
“First time I met Gunnar,” Jorja said, her voice low but carrying the weight of memory, “he threw me into his truck and dragged me here kicking and screaming.” She smirked, but her eyes were serious, the humor not quite reaching them. “I was so mad with him.”
Glenna blinked, trying to process the words, to find the connection. “I don’t?—”
“Point is,” Jorja cut in, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table, “these men? They tend to be a little—okay, a lot—over the top.” She nodded toward the door to the courtyard.
“They do stupid stuff. They drive us batty, but when a Four X’s Operator is in your corner, then they are all in.
All the way. No hesitation. No looking back.
” Her gaze flicked to Kelsey, who was now chattering animatedly with Ember about the “best” crayon colors, their heads bent together in conspiracy.
“Kelsey?” Jorja’s voice softened. “She’s his family now, too.
Whether he’s ready for it or not. Whether you’re ready for it or not. ”
Glenna’s throat burned, the coffee she’d just sipped turning bitter on her tongue. It almost sounded like Tyrone wanted to keep her daughter for himself.
Never going to happen.
Across the table, Petra leaned forward, her voice low and steady, cutting through the fog of her spiraling thoughts. “You look like you’re about to bolt,” she missed nothing. The observation was so blunt, so accurate, that Glenna flinched, her fingers tightening around the mug.
“I don’t—I’m not—” the words stuck in her throat. “This isn’t what I?—”
“Normal?” Siobhán snorted from where she stood by the sink, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
She turned, her piercing gaze locking onto Glenna’s.
“Girleen, normal left the building the second you got on the jet, never mind stepped off it.” She jerked her chin toward the door, and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone.
“For as long as I’ve been here, Zorro has two settings, Operator or detached.
Like the rest of our men, he’s seen things no one should ever have to see.
Done things no one should ever have to do.
” Her expression darkened for a moment, shadows flickering across her face.
“But there is no better guy to have in your corner.” She paused, her gaze flicking to Kelsey, then back to Glenna.
“I’ve seen more emotion in him the last two days than I have the entire two and a half years I’ve known him. ”
I don’t understand what that means for me and Kelsey.
Before she could make the words come out of her mouth in a coherent sentence, Serena slid a plate of pancakes toward her, the stack still steaming, syrup already dripping down the sides in golden rivulets. The scent of warm maple and buttery dough filled Glenna’s nose, making her stomach clench.
“Eat. You’ll need your strength for whatever comes next.
” Her smile was warm, but her eyes held a warning, a quiet intensity that made it clear she wasn’t just offering food.
She was offering support in the way only another woman or mother could.
“Then we’ll show you where you’re staying.
” She reached out, squeezing Glenna’s wrist briefly before pulling back.
“And Glenna?” Her voice dropped, the words meant only for her.
“Let him help. He needs it as much as you do.”
Glenna stared at the pancakes, the syrup already pooling on the plate, seeping into the fluffy layers.
She forced herself to pick up the fork and dig in.
At the first bite, the flavors overwhelmed her senses.
She chewed slowly, her stomach churning in protest, but she swallowed anyway, the act almost mechanical.
Beside her, Kelsey giggled as Ember “accidentally” dripped syrup onto her own nose, the sound so alive, so full of joy, that it hurt.
It was a sound Glenna had feared she might never hear again, a sound she had prayed for in the darkest nights when hope had seemed like a cruel joke.
I can’t believe this is real.
How can it be real?