Chapter 35 – The Rescue

Mannie’s POV

The moment the last gunshot echoed through the factory, I stayed still behind the pillar, heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

Dust floated in the air.

Everything was quiet—too quiet.

The stink of gunpowder mixed with the scent of old rust and burning cigarettes.

My fingers dug into the rough floor beneath me.

My breathing was fast and uneven. I didn’t know whether I should cry, scream, or just pass out.

But then I heard it.

His Footsteps.

Strong. steady and familiar.

Dominic.

He appeared from the shadows like he always did—like the dark belonged to him.

His black shirt was wrinkled, the sleeves rolled up, and the gun still hung loosely in his hand.

But his eyes—his eyes were locked on me.

“Stay down!” a voice shouted from outside.

Police.

Sirens wailed in the distance now. The flashing lights bounced off the broken windows.

I tried to sit up, but my body shook.

Dominic dropped to one knee beside me, his eyes scanning every inch of me. His hands hovered over my shoulders, arms, legs—looking for something, anything.

When he saw I had no gun wounds, just scrapes and bruises, he let out a deep breath and shut his eyes for one second. His jaw tightened, like he was trying to hold something back.

Then, silently, he shrugged off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders.

I pushed it off weakly. “I’m fine,” I muttered. “You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on my shoulder, firm but gentle, and pushed the jacket back over me.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

His voice trembled. Not with anger.

But with an emotion I didn’t think Dominic would have.

And before I could say another word, he leaned in—and kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It was raw and urgent. Like he had been holding something in for too long.

My breath caught in my throat.

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

His lips pressed against mine with a mix of anger, fear, and something I didn’t want to name.

I felt his frustration, his helplessness, his relief. All wrapped into that one kiss.

I didn’t close my eyes. I was too shocked.

My fingers gripped the floor. My heart didn’t know whether to break or race.

Then, just as fast as he kissed me, he pulled back.

I stared at him, lips parted in disbelief.

“You—!” I gasped, my voice catching. My hand was still on his chest, trembling slightly.

I didn’t know if I wanted to punch him or pull him back.

But before I could do either, he pulled me into a hug.

Not a tight one.

Just firm, strong and warm hug.

His mouth came close to my ear.

“Just one minute,” he whispered. “Let me hold you for just one minute.”

I froze.

His arms wrapped around me, and for a moment, I forgot about the cold floor beneath me. I forgot about Clarissa’s threats, the bruises on my skin, the fear that had filled me.

I heard his heartbeat. It was fast and uneven

He had been scared.

Really scared.

I didn’t hug him back.

But I didn’t push him away either.

When he finally pulled back, something had changed in his face. The storm in his eyes faded just a little.

He gave me that smirk again—the one he always wore when he was about to say something annoying.

His gaze dropped—not too far, but enough to make my eyes widen.

“I didn’t know you were hiding those under those baggy blouses,” he said with a raised brow.

“Impressive.”

My mouth dropped open.

“You—! You perv!” I hissed, grabbing his jacket tighter around me. “Dominic!”

He chuckled and stood up. “Just trying to lighten the mood. You looked like you were about to combust.”

“You just kissed me!”

“Yeah. And now you’re breathing again.”

I wanted to throw something at him.

But honestly? A small part of me felt... safe.

Even now.

Even after everything.

Sirens grew louder.

Dominic helped me to my feet and guided me outside, his hand never leaving my elbow, like I’d disappear if he let go.

Outside the factory, everything was chaos.

Police cars filled the lot. Lights flashed red and blue. Officers moved quickly, cuffing Clarissa and her men. Some were talking to witnesses. Others were taping off the area.

I sat down in the backseat of a car parked nearby, still holding his jacket tightly around me.

I was shivering—but not from the cold.

I was still trying to process everything.

Especially that kiss.

It just reminded me of that night 5 years ago.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

From a distance, I could see Dominic talking to the head officer, pointing at Clarissa and giving a quick summary.

That was when something strange happened.

The door of a nearby police van opened, and a short officer stepped out with a black case in his hand.

Inside the van, screens glowed.

Live footage played across one of the bigger monitors—body cam footage, drone views, and maps.

And in the middle of the screen were two familiar voices.

“Captain,” Jay’s voice came calmly through the speaker.

My eyes widened.

“Nate and I just got the footage from three alleyway cams around the factory. Clarissa staged everything. She lured our mom here.”

My jaw dropped.

Jay’s calm voice echoed again, “We matched her phone’s signal with the path of the van that picked Mom up. There’s no random coincidence. It was planned.”

A few officers turned to look at the screen.

One of them adjusted the speaker volume as another child’s voice came through.

Nate.

“There are also hidden bombs planted around the perimeter,” he said clearly. “We hacked the surveillance grid and traced the heat signatures. Sending coordinates now.”

A red map appeared on the screen, with blinking dots.

“You have to clear those areas,” Nate continued. “The bombs weren’t powerful, but they were meant to cause confusion—and erase evidence.”

The police captain leaned forward.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked into the comms.

“Positive,” Nate replied without hesitation.

“Understood. Officers, sweep the east and north sides first,” the captain ordered. “Move now!”

The team scattered quickly, shouting orders through their radios.

I stared at the screen in awe.

Jay was still typing fast, eyes narrowed in focus. His little fingers flew over the keys like a machine.

Nate was calm, serious, and steady despite his height and face full of baby fat, but somehow sounding like a full-grown tech expert.

“Don’t move the packages until we give the go-ahead,” Nate said. “There might be trigger sensors.”

And just like that, my five-year-old sons were leading a crime scene investigation.

The factory, the danger, the threats—all of it suddenly felt distant as I watched them on the screen.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or call them both to yell at them for sneaking into another case.

But one thing was clear.

My sons weren’t normal.

They were something else entirely.