She loves it. Needs it the same way I do. That edge between civilized behavior and raw claiming. The certainty that no matter how professional she is at the clinic, at home she's mine to do with as I please.
Traci's adjusted better than expected. Volunteers at the clinic three days a week. Training as a medical assistant under Helena's supervision. Learning to help instead of needing help. Progress measured in small victories.
She speaks in full sentences most of the time now. Sometimes trauma still rises up and steals her voice. But more often than not, she chooses words. Calls me Uncle Eli without the weight that name used to carry.
We're family. The kind neither of us knew we needed.
It's late afternoon when I walk into the clinic. Helena's at the desk reviewing files. Dark hair pulled back. Reading glasses perched on her nose. Professional competence that makes me want to mess her up.
She glances up. Sees me. Her expression shifts—professional to personal in the space of a heartbeat. Reading the intent in my eyes. Knowing exactly what I'm planning for later.
"Are you done for the day?" I ask.
She checks the schedule. "Last appointment cancelled. We're clear."
"Good." I move into her space. Crowd her against the desk. Hand finding her hip with possessive pressure. "We have a date remember and plans for later, big plans."
She knows that tone. Knows what kind of plans I mean. Her pulse jumps under my thumb when I press it against her throat. "Sounds perfect."
"You okay?" Her question. The one she asks when she sees me checking for threats that aren't there anymore.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You get this look sometimes."
"Habit." I pull her closer. Kiss her hard enough she gasps. Claiming her mouth the way I claim everything else about her. Mine. Permanently.
When I pull back, her eyes are dark. Lips swollen. Already anticipating what I'm going to do to her later when Traci's asleep and we have privacy.
"Go tell Traci we're heading out," she says. Voice rougher than before. "I'll finish locking up."
I find Traci in the exam room organizing supplies with methodical precision. "Ready to go?"
She nods. Strips off gloves, washes hands. "Did the clinic get the referral from Aurora Covenant?"
"Which one?"
"Rebecca called this morning. Said there's a woman who needs medical care. Trafficking survivor from a different network. Has information about remaining loose ends from the investigation."
Tactical instincts activate. Loose ends mean uncompleted objectives. Threats still operational. "What kind of information?"
"Rebecca didn't say. Just that she needs medical evaluation and victim advocacy. And she specifically asked for Dr. Sage."
I file that away. Another survivor. Another piece of the puzzle. The network that took Traci might be dismantled, but there are always more. More victims. More perpetrators. More missions.
But that's tomorrow's problem.
Helena emerges from the back office, coat on, ready to leave. The three of us walk out together into cold afternoon air that smells like snow coming.
The Talon Mountain crew is gathering at The Hollow Hearth tonight for an official celebration. Zeke and Sadie. Rhys and Harlow. Finn with Cara, their relationship solidified after the investigation wrapped. Chosen family formed from people who survived bad things together.
The place is warm when we walk in. Fire crackling. Smell of grilled meat and beer. The kind of gathering that happens when people need to acknowledge something too big for normal conversation.
Zeke raises his glass when he sees us. "To Traci. For being braver than any of us have a right to ask."
Traci ducks her head. Uncomfortable with attention. But Sadie pulls her into a hug that saysyou're one of us now.
Rhys approaches. Nods at me with the kind of respect operators give each other when the mission's complete. "Graves in jail and the Marshal’s network is finally down."
