Page 105 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“You’re not going back to the house alone,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Not negotiable.”

“I’ll be fine?—”

“No.” His tone leaves no room for argument, firm but not unkind. “Our place is secure because we’re there. Without us, it’s a target.”

I swallow, nodding, knowing he’s right.

“You’ll stay with Sophia until we’re back,” Hank says, already texting. “You’ll be protected, and you won’t be alone. Sophia will love having you around.”

I hesitate, chewing on my lip. “Why not Malia? I don’t know Sophia.”

Hank doesn’t miss a beat. “Because Sophia stays on Guardian HQ grounds. There’s nothing safer. It’s either her, Jenna, or Mia. Malia lives off-base.”

“So?”

“Guardian HQ,” Gabe says, “is locked down. Surveillance. Security on every level. It’s a fortress.”

I glance between them, still uncertain, but their confidence settles something inside me.

Hank softens, stepping closer. “I wouldn’t leave you anywhere else, luv. This is about keeping you safe while we’re not there to do it ourselves.”

Gabe’s hand finds mine again, warm and solid. “Just a day or two,” he reminds me. “Then we’re back.”

“Okay.” I nod slowly, heart pounding but steady.

Hank’s hand squeezes my shoulder, grounding me. “You’re ours. We protect what’s ours.”

Gabe follows suit, his lips lingering against my cheek. “Think of tonight as a rain check,” he murmurs. “Something to look forward to when we get back.”

And then they’re gone, moving through the crowd, leaving me alone at the table with Mitzy.

“I need to take a look at your laptop, and I need that USB,” Mitzy says, gathering her things, “but I’ve got some other matters to handle first. Come by my lab tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock?”

“Sure.” I hand over my laptop and the tiny USB, worried about Mitzy’s concern.

“Perfect,” Mitzy says. “I’ll see you then.” She gives my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “They’ll be fine, you know. They’re the best at what they do.”

After she leaves, I sit there, momentarily stunned by their abrupt departure. The noise of the coffee shop seems to intensify around me—conversations, laughter, the hiss of steam—highlighting my sudden solitude.

What now?

I glance toward the counter, where Malia efficiently manages the continuing chaos, and remember her mentioning being short-staffed. This may be an opportunity.

Taking a deep breath, I gather the coffee cups and stand, making my way to the counter. Malia greets me with a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Those two certainly know how to make an exit,” she says, nodding toward the door Hank and Gabe just disappeared through.

“They excel at dramatic departures,” I agree, setting the cups on the counter. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.” Malia glances around the shop, surveying the afternoon lull. Her expression shifts, brow furrowing slightly as she leans against the counter. “Listen, Ally… I hate to ask, but?—”

“You need help?” I prompt when she hesitates.

“Yes.” She gestures toward the door and the line of customers. “We’re about to get slammed with the post-meetingcrowd from the East Wing… and we’re already slammed.” She trails off, eyeing me with hopeful speculation.

I glance down at my outfit—jeans and a borrowed T-shirt, hardly barista attire—but the pleading look in Malia’s eyes is difficult to resist. Besides, what else will I do while Hank and Gabe are away?

“You want me to help?” I ask, though her request is clear enough.

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