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The Rescue
publish date:
2026-11-03 07:00:00TYRELL POV
Tyrell's gun was already up, trained on James’s chest. "Move and I'll kill you."
"No, you won't." James’s smile widened. "Not while you're standing so close to her. Bullets have a funny way of going through people."
Tyrell's mind raced. The staircase was narrow. No cover. James had the high ground or rather, the low ground. Better angle.
They were trapped.
"Ziva." Tyrell kept his voice steady. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her
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The safe house bathroom was small. Ziva sat on the edge of the bathtub.She stared at her hands, dried blood clung under her fingernails.A soft knock on the door. "Ziva? Can I come in?" Tyrell asked.She didn't answer. She couldn't make her voice work.The door opened slowly. Tyrell stepped inside, carrying clothes. His shirt. Sweatpants. He knelt in front of her, careful not to touch."Let's get you out of that dress."Ziva looked down at herself, at the white silk that James made her wear while he played house. She wanted it burned and she wanted to scrub her skin until there was nothing left of the past three days. But her hands quivered uncontrollably, refusing to obey her will.Tyrell started to reach for the zipper at her back, before he stopped. "May I?"Ziva nodded.He unzipped the dress slowly while helping her stand, then he held the shirt up so she could slip her arms through the sleeves while he turned
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TYRELL POVTyrell's gun was already up, trained on James’s chest. "Move and I'll kill you.""No, you won't." James’s smile widened. "Not while you're standing so close to her. Bullets have a funny way of going through people."Tyrell's mind raced. The staircase was narrow. No cover. James had the high ground or rather, the low ground. Better angle.They were trapped."Ziva." Tyrell kept his voice steady. "Are you hurt?"She shook her head slightly. Her hand gripped the back of his tactical vest, trembling.James tilted his head, studying them like specimens. "She's fine. Better than fine. We've been getting to know each other. Haven't we, darling?"Ziva didn't answer.Tyrell's finger tightened on the trigger. "If you've touched her..."James laughed. "I have every right to. She's my daughter."The words hung in the air like poison.Tyrell's blood ran cold. "What?""Didn't she
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TYRELL POVForty-eight hours.Tyrell sat in a folding chair in a safe house that smelled like mildew and gun oil, staring at a satellite image of James Keene's estate spread across the table in front of him.Forty-eight hours since Ziva had walked toward James with her head held high.Since she'd sacrificed herself to save him.Since he'd failed her. Again.His face was bandaged where one of James’s men had hit him with a rifle butt. Three cracked ribs. Bruised kidney. Marcus had wanted to take him to a hospital.Tyrell had refused.There was no time."Sir." Marcus entered the room, carrying two cups of coffee. He set one in front of Tyrell. "You need to eat something."Tyrell didn't touch the coffee. Didn't look up from the satellite image. "Show me the guard rotations again."Marcus sighed but pulled up the surveillance footage they'd been collecting. Cameras they'd positioned in the woods surroundi
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Dawn light filtered through the bedroom window, pale and gray.Ziva woke disoriented for a moment, then it all came rushing back.The estate. James. The revelation that had shattered everything she thought she knew about herself.James Keene was her father.No. Not her father. Her mother's captor.She looked around properly for the first time.There were photos of a woman who looked exactly like Ziva.Elise.Her mother.Ziva stood on shaky legs, moved closer to the dresser where several photos sat in ornate frames.Elise at twenty-five, smiling at the camera. The smile didn't reach her eyes.Elise pregnant, hand resting on her swollen belly. Looking somewhere off-camera with an expression Ziva couldn't quite name.Elise holding a baby. The photo was slightly blurred, like it had been taken quickly, without permission.Ziva's hands shook as she picked up that last one.Her mother l
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Tyrell was on his knees in the center of the lights.Blood matted his hair. His shirt was torn. Zip ties cut into his wrists behind his back.But his eyes, when they found Ziva in the darkness, were alive. Burning.Telling her to run.James Keene stood behind him, one hand resting on Tyrell's shoulder like they were old friends. In his other hand: a gun. Pressed against the back of Tyrell's head.Ziva's hands tightened on her own gun. Marcus stood beside her, weapon raised, scanning for targets.Six men that she could see. Probably more in the shadows beyond the lights.They were outgunned. Outmanned. Trapped."Let him go." Ziva's voice didn't sound like hers.James smiled. "Of course. After we come to an understanding.""What kind of understanding?""It's simple, really." James pressed the gun harder against Tyrell's skull. Tyrell didn't flinch. "Come with me, and I will let him live."Ziva's heart
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