“And now he’s back.”
“And now he’s back,” I repeat. “And I don’t want this sending him into another spiral. He’s barely standing as it is.”
Gideon nods slowly. “So you’re good, but mad.”
“I’m good,” I say. “But furious. I want answers. I want the truth. I want to know exactly what happened to my brother… and I want Talon and Minxy safe enough to hear it.”
He taps the side of the laptop lightly. “Then tomorrow, we get her. And everything else starts from there.”
Footsteps approach the door.
Gideon shuts the laptop. “Showtime.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
GIDEON
The door opens.Penelope steps in first, cheeks pink from the outside, a nervous line carved between her brows.There’s a softness around her eyes I haven’t seen before, a looseness in her shoulders that didn’t exist this morning.
Talon follows a step behind her. He’s trying to look neutral, but he’s failing miserably. His hair is rumpled in a way that has nothing to do with wind, and he keeps glancing at Penelope like she hung the damn moon.
Something between them has clearly shifted.
Silas notices it too. His gaze flicks from her to Talon and back again, assessing. A slow, knowing exhale leaves him.
Penelope clears her throat, clearly aware she’s being studied.
“Everything ready?” Penelope asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Now we stop planning and start preparing.”
She blows out a breath and moves to the table, and Talon moves with her instead of orbiting like a spooked cat.
“How bad is it?” She raises a brow.
“Bad enough,” I answer. “Good timing. Sit.”
She drops into the chair beside me. Talon hangs back until I nod at the spot across from her. He sinks into it, shoulders tense again now that we’re talking business.
I slide a badge toward each of them. “Tomorrow, these stay in the glove box unless everything goes sideways. You two aren’t supposed to set foot in that building. You are back up. Eyes and hands if things go wrong.”
Penelope runs her thumb over the laminated edge. “Walk us through it.”
I bring the laptop back to life and swivel the screen so everyone can see the map.
“The clinic opens at eight,” I say. “St. Helen’s van is scheduled for 10:15 a.m. They’ll check Minxy in at the front desk, then escort her down this hall to exam room 203.”
I trace the path with my finger.
“I’ll already be inside,” I continue. “I check in first, posing as an outside consultant. Silas comes in as staff using the credentials we have. When they bring Minxy down the corridor, he intercepts the escort near this junction and redirects them into the staff hall, supposedly for imaging or an additional intake.”
Silas nods. “I walk them toward the emergency exit instead.”
“Right.” I tap the back door. “We keep it simple. No running. No yelling. No heroics. We walk her out the back, straight to the car.” I look at Penelope. “You and Talon are parked in the treeline across the service drive. The second we’re out, she sees him first.”
Talon swallows. “What if she’s pissed we got her out? What if she hates me?”
“She won’t,” Penelope says gently. “Trauma doesn’t erase people. Just warps how we remember them.”
