Dutch muttered something under his breath about doctors, but stopped squirming.
I watched as Ethan and Trent huddled over maps spread across the coffee table, their conversation conducted mostly in nods, gestures, and half-sentences. They moved in sync, each anticipating the other’s thoughts, finishing each other’s tactical assessments. Years of shared missions had clearly forged a connection that went beyond words.
“They’re like an old married couple, aren’t they?” Leo said, appearing at my elbow with a steaming mug of coffee that hehanded to me. “Communicating telepathically, finishing each other’s broody silences.”
“I heard that,” Trent called without looking up.
Leo grinned. “You were meant to.”
From the corner, Rafe looked up from the device he was calibrating. “Santiago, if you’re done with the coffee service, I need those signal jammers.”
“Ask nicely, Sparky,” Leo replied, the nickname clearly calculated to annoy.
Rafe’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “The jammers. Now. Please.”
Leo dramatically clutched his chest. “He said please! Mark the calendar, folks!”
I smiled as the brotherly banter flowed around me. Despite the high stakes and deadly skills, there was genuine affection beneath the verbal sparring.
In the far corner, I noticed Gage sitting slightly apart from the others, methodically disassembling and cleaning a weapon. His face remained tight with concentration, but occasionally his hands would shake, forcing him to pause and take a deep breath. He touched his earpiece, listening to something, then nodded in response.
“Kate,” Trent explained quietly, having materialized beside me. “She talks him through the tremors.”
Sophia’s laugh rang out again as Flynn made the penguin dance across the table. Dutch complained about Alistair’s “fancy bandages” while secretly looking relieved. Rafe and Leo continued their good-natured bickering as they set up communications equipment. Nolan told an outrageous story that made even Ethan crack a small smile. And through it all, they worked with seamless efficiency, each person knowing their role, their purpose, their place in this strange, deadly family.
I caught Trent watching me, his eyes softer than I’d seen them around the others. In that moment, I understood something about him, too—that his months away hadn’t been about abandoning us, but about protecting this other family he belonged to. That coming back, calling them in, merging these two worlds, had been a choice that meant more than I’d realized.
“They’re not what I expected,” I admitted quietly.
“What did you expect?” Trent asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“I don’t know. More... military? Less...” I gestured vaguely at Flynn, who was now doing a dramatic penguin impression that had Sophia giggling uncontrollably. “Human, I guess.”
A ghost of a smile touched Trent’s lips. “They’re the best at what they do precisely because they are human.”
Ethan’s voice cut through the murmured conversations: “Alright, focus up.”
The small kitchen table groaned under the weight of tactical gear, maps, and more weapons than I’d ever seen in one place. Ethan stood at its head at parade rest like a general from some ancient battlefield. Trent moved to stand beside him in the same position as everyone gathered around the table.
Sophia sat on the couch with both Agent Waddles and Mr. Hoppy clutched to her chest. Lyric had given her a tablet with all her favorite TV shows preloaded, and I made sure she was all set, with her ears covered by headphones too big for her little head. Then I squeezed in between Leo and Flynn. Trent caught my gaze across the table and gave me a small nod that somehow made me feel both more and less afraid of what was coming.
Ethan nodded to Trent. “Bricks, lay it out.”
Trent spread reconnaissance photos across the table’s scarred surface. Places I recognized—the town square, the water tower, the small church with its white steeple—transformed into tactical objectives on a map. It felt surreal seeing the streetswhere I’d walked with Sophia, bought groceries, chatted with neighbors, all reduced to strategic coordinates and approach vectors.
“According to Dutch’s recon last night, we have three primary targets,” Trent said, tapping each photo in turn. “Cell tower—light security, probably automated systems with minimal personnel. Water facility on the east side of town—moderate security, likely controlled subjects rather than trained guards. And this—“ His finger landed on a photo of what looked like an abandoned industrial site nestled in the red rock formations I’d admired from my kitchen window for months. “Old mining facility in The Breaklands. Heavy security. Underground operations.”
“Dollars to donuts that’s their command center,” Dutch grumbled.
“Not just security,” Nolan added with a light whistle, sliding his tablet forward. “Full military-grade defenses. Take a look.”
The tablet displayed aerial footage of Garnett and the surrounding area. The sleepy town I’d called home looked alien from above, patterns emerging that weren’t visible from the ground. Blue-shirted figures moved through the streets with that eerie synchronization I’d witnessed up close. But it was the mining facility that drew everyone’s attention—concrete barriers, surveillance equipment, armed guards patrolling in precise patterns.
“Two hundred and twenty-seven affected subjects in town,” Nolan continued, zooming in on the church. “Another thirty-three unaccounted for—either resistant or...” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“Kate, what have you got?” Ethan asked, looking at the laptop where Kate’s purple-streaked hair bounced as she typed furiously.
“The receptor compounds in the water have a neural half-life of forty-eight to seventy-two hours,” Kate explained, her voice coming through surprisingly clear. “So even if we take down the cell tower tonight, we’re looking at a window of at least two days before the affected subjects start coming out of it naturally.”
