Semua Bab A Bark in the Park: Bab 31 - Bab 40

I never thought I’d pray over blood again. But there I was, on my knees in the middle of the ruined safehouse, pressing a warm, wet cloth to the gash above Rufio’s brow and whispering steady, low nonsense into his fur like it could undo what happened. He didn’t whimper. He didn’t move. He just laid there, his breath shallow and uneven, eyes dull with pain but locked on mine. He’d done everything he could. Fought harder than most men I knew. He was a lion trapped in a corgi’s frame—and he hadn’t let them take her without making sure they bled for it. “I’m so damn proud of you,” I whispered, voice catching as I ran my hand gently over the spot behind his ears. “You did good. You kept her safe as long as you could.” But he hadn’t been able to stop them. And neither had I. I stood, blood and guilt streaked across my palms, and grabbed my phone. The ache in my chest wasn’t just grief or fear—it was fire. Controlled. Contained. Ready to burn down every last name connected to mine if it m

The sound of gunfire cracked through the air as we moved. I didn’t flinch. My heart was a solid drum in my chest, but my grip on the weapon didn’t shake once. The metal of the side door gave under Clay’s crowbar with a sharp groan, and the second it popped open, Makayla was the first through—silent and surgical in her movements, already scanning with a scope mounted on her tablet, feeding live heat readings into our comms. “Two signatures down the hall. East wing. Still.” Her voice was calm. Cool. Focused. “One more moving south. You’ve got a clean window—go.” I was next in, Clay at my back, and Xenia was close behind him. Behind us, the rest of the team fanned out through the alley, splitting toward their designated entry points. Darius, Elijah, Riko, and Forrest peeled left. Reese and Don were already positioned at the loading dock, ready to flood the building with noise the second we needed a deeper push. And outside? Lilac had a goddamn show going. A protest bloomed across t

The moment Amaya moved in my arms, my body stirred on instinct. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. Just the reflexive need to know where Amaya was. To be sure, she was safe. After what we’d been through—what I’d almost lost—I wasn’t letting her drift more than a few steps away without noticing. So when she slipped from the bed, careful and silent, I kept my breathing even but cracked one eye open just enough to track her shadow moving across the room. She padded softly to the door. Then stopped. That’s when I heard it too. Xenia’s voice. Low. Worried. “…this isn’t what we thought it was.” Ofelia’s followed, calm but firm. “She’s stronger than we gave her credit for. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready for what’s coming.” I didn’t move. Not yet. But my jaw clenched. They weren’t wrong. But hearing it out loud—hearing the doubt in their voices about her—hit harder than I expected. The conversation faded down the hall, and I saw Amaya hesitate. Saw her spine stiffen like she’d just been ha

The city was quieter than usual—that eerie stillness that comes just before something breaks—windless, sharp-edged, like the world was holding its breath. I walked the perimeter of the safehouse slowly, letting my boots scuff against the edge of the cracked pavement. Occasionally, I’d glance up to check the shadows on the rooftop. Nothing moved except a flicker of neon from a sign down the block. The wind had died entirely, and the heat clung low like the city couldn’t decide if it wanted to sweat or suffocate. Across the street, I could see the distraction unit finishing their last checks. Xenia adjusted the strap on her duffel bag while Lilac handed out burner phones with that calm, focused look she wore like armor. And in the middle of it all—Amaya. She stood with one hand on Rufio’s leash, her other holding a printed protest flyer. Her hair was pulled back into a low twist, her face steady as she recited her side of the plan to Riko for the third time. No tremble in her voice. N

I woke before the sun, the weight of last night still buzzing under my skin. Amaya was tucked beside me, soft and warm, her arm draped across my chest like she’d always belonged there. Maybe she did. Rufio, who had crawled into bed with us at some point, was curled up at our feet, his slow puppy breaths rhythmic and steady. I didn’t want to disturb them, but my mind was too loud to stay still. I slipped out of bed carefully, moving as quietly as possible while dressed, and left the room. The hallway was quiet as I made my way towards the common spaces of the Frost family safehouse. I assumed everyone else would still be asleep. The main common room was quiet. Lilac was passed out on the couch under a fleece throw, Pockets curled up against her like a fuzzy little heater. Posters and art supplies from the protest planning were still scattered across the coffee table—markers uncapped, glitter spilled, and a half-empty bag of gummy worms forgotten beside a Sharpie. Clay and Makayla w