“We’ll get Mr. Hoppy back,” Evelyn promised, her voice steady despite the exhaustion written across her face. “When this is all over, we’ll go home and get him, okay?”
Big tears slid down Sophia’s cheeks, but she nodded against my chest.
I watched Evelyn continue cleaning her daughter's face and hands, talking softly the entire time. Even exhausted, even terrified, Evelyn had this bottomless well of strength when it came to Sophia. She’d survived an abusive marriage, a cult, and now this. Never breaking, never giving in.
She was amazing.
The soup came in mismatched bowls, some kind of vegetable beef that smelled better than it looked. Dutch cut thick slices of slightly stale bread to go with it. Simple food, but warm and filling. Sophia stayed on my lap while Evelyn held the spoon to her lips, coaxing her to eat small bites. Between us, we managed to get most of a bowl into her.
“She’ll need a place to sleep,” Dutch said, eyeing the little girl. He crossed the room and opened one of the back doors. “Not fancy, but it’s clean.”
Evelyn nodded, fatigue evident in every line of her body. “Thank you. For everything.”
Dutch just grunted, uncomfortable with gratitude. He busied himself checking locks and peering through the window at the darkening landscape. Night was falling fast, the temperaturedropping with it. He stoked the wood stove, adding another log that popped and crackled as it caught.
When it came time to put Sophia to bed, she refused to let either of us out of her sight. The room where Dutch had set up the cot was too far, too separate. In the end, we let her sleep on the couch in the main room, where she could see both of us from her pillow. Even then, her eyes were wide with fear, darting between Evelyn and me as if we might disappear if she closed them.
“I’ll stay right here,” Evelyn promised, sitting on the floor beside the couch and taking Sophia’s small hand in hers. “I won’t leave.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She stroked her daughter’s hair back from her forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I stood watching from a few feet away, torn between giving them privacy and my own irrational need to keep them both in sight. Sophia’s eyes found mine over her mother’s shoulder.
“Vigi stays too,” she said, not a question but a statement.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told her, meaning it more than I’d meant almost anything in my life.
Slowly, Sophia’s eyes grew heavy. The combination of trauma, exhaustion, and her mother’s gentle touch finally overwhelmed her fear. Evelyn continued stroking her hair, humming softly, the same melody I remembered from the Hope’s Embrace compound.
I moved to the doorway, giving them space while staying in Sophia’s line of sight. My shoulder ached in the cool air, a dull throb that matched my heartbeat. Watching Evelyn with her daughter twisted something in my chest. Six months ago, I’d walked away from them, telling myself it was for their own good. Now, seeing them together, I couldn’t imagine making that same choice again.
Evelyn looked up, catching me watching them. In the lamplight, her eyes held no accusation, just a bone-deep weariness and something else—a fierce determination I recognized from our time at the compound.
She wasn’t running anymore.
Neither was I.
I waited until Sophia’s breathing deepened into the rhythm of sleep before unpacking my satellite gear. The familiar ritual of assembling equipment grounded me—power source connected to transmitter, transmitter to the encrypted laptop, antenna positioned toward the southern sky through Dutch’s narrow window. I favored my right arm, keeping my left close to my body. The shoulder joint felt wrong, grinding when I moved it certain ways. No doubt if Alistair were here, he’d be cursing my stupidity and forcing me to wear a sling.
Dutch watched from his position by the wood stove, arms crossed over his chest, his craggy face unreadable in the amber light.
“Fancy stuff,” he commented, nodding at the compact unit that had fit easily into my duffel.
“My team doesn’t mess around with comms,” I replied, entering encryption codes from memory. “Signal’s bounced through seven satellites before it reaches headquarters. Untraceable.”
He grunted. “You black ops?”
“Something like that.”
Evelyn’s fingers brushed Sophia’s hair one last time before stepping away from the sleeping child. She joined us at the table. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, but her gaze was sharp, focused.
“Will they have answers?” she asked quietly.
“They’d better.” The connection was established with three soft beeps, and the screen flickered to life.
Kate and Ozzy appeared on the laptop display, both looking like they hadn’t slept last night. Kate’s light brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, vibrant purple streaks framing a face tight with concentration. Behind her left shoulder, I could see Ozzy’s lean form hunched over multiple monitors, his slanted eyes barely visible beneath a shock of black hair. Coffee mugs littered the workspace around them, evidence of the fuel keeping them running.
