“Hey.” Dom touched her arm lightly. “We’re going to get him back.”
Before she could respond, Tessa materialized beside them, medical kit in hand, eyes fixed on the gash above Dom’s eyebrow.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to the chair by the window.
“It’s fine,” Dom protested. “Just a scratch from when?—”
Tessa stared at him, one eyebrow raised in a perfect imitation of their aunt Libby’s “don’t test me” look. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, just stood there radiating clinical disapproval until Dom sighed and dropped into the chair.
“This is why I hate having a medic in the family,” he grumbled as she tilted his face toward the light.
“No, you hate it because she’s the only one who can make you behave,” Elliot called from across the room.
Tessa’s hands were gentle as she cleaned the wound, her movements efficient and practiced. She didn’t lecture him aboutsafety or taking unnecessary risks. She never did. She just patched them up, over and over, holding them together with bandages and butterfly stitches and whatever else it took to keep her family in one piece.
“This should have had proper stitches,” she said, dabbing antiseptic that stung like hell.
“Didn’t have time,” Dom replied, wincing slightly. “Had to get out of Villa Pandora before Stavros changed his mind about letting us leave.”
“Hmm.” She pressed a butterfly stitch across the cut with more force than strictly necessary. “Lucky it’s not infected.”
“Ow! Jesus, Tess?—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. “Does it hurt when I try to keep your head from falling apart?”
From across the room, Weston snickered. “She got you there.”
Dom shot him a glare but stayed still while Tessa finished her work. From his seat, he had a perfect view of the room—of his family spread out across the small space, of Vivi moving among them with increasing ease.
Elliot had pulled her into a discussion about the extraction route, his arm casually draped over her shoulder as he pointed out details on the map. Bridger offered her olives from his plate with a small, reserved smile that few outside the family ever saw. Even Liam, who rarely engaged with anyone outside their immediate circle, had nodded respectfully when she made a suggestion about the exchange site.
They’d absorbed her into their orbit without hesitation, without question. Not just because she was with Dom, but because she was Sabin’s sister. Because she was part of this mission. Because when Wildes committed to something, they committed all the way—and they had committed to bringing Sabin home.
Something eased in Dom’s chest, a tightness he hadn’t realized was there until it released. For a few stolen hours, with salt air drifting through the cracked window and the countdown clock still ticking in the back of his mind, it almost felt like they might be okay. Like they had a real shot at pulling this off.
Across the room, Davey caught his eye. His oldest brother leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching the controlled chaos with the steady gaze of a man accustomed to holding the world on his shoulders. But when he looked at Dom, a rare smile softened his features.
“How are you holding up?” Davey asked, sliding into the chair beside him after Tessa finished her ministrations and packed away her supplies.
Dom rubbed his thumb across the butterfly bandage on his forehead. “Better now that you’re all here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Of course it wasn’t. Davey never let him dodge the real questions, not since they were kids.
He exhaled and lowered his voice. “I’m worried. about what happens if this all goes sideways,” Dom admitted. “Praetorian isn’t the type to just let things go. And Sabin...” He glanced across the room at Vivi. “If we can’t get him out...”
“We will,” Davey said with that unshakeable certainty that had carried them through every crisis since they were kids. “This team doesn’t fail.”
Dom nodded, not quite convinced but drawing strength from his brother’s confidence. The plan was solid. The team was the best. But Praetorian was unpredictable, and Malcolm Raines was a sadistic bastard who enjoyed inflicting pain.
“You and Vivi...” Davey began, his voice careful.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. Just making an observation. You two seem... different since the last time I saw you both in a roomtogether. If memory serves, when Vivi came to dress Rowan for that charity ball, she was really fucking unhappy to see you there.”
“Yeah, well…” Dom rubbed a hand across his jaw, feeling the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave. “We talked.”
