Page 132 of The Wrecked One

Oliver gathered me in his arms. “Fuck, you’re so amazing,” he murmured into my ear so only I would hear.

“We’ve always held the power, haven’t we?” I lifted my chin to find his eyes, not caring we weren’t alone. “We just have to come together to fight back for what we believe in, for what’s right.”

52

OLIVER

That next morning, the sun illuminated the fighter jets on the runway outside. Not a cloud in the sky. And somewhere, there were probably birds chirping, too. For the first time in a long time, I was okay with the sun and birds. All of it. Because not only was this all coming to an end, but Michael was okay.

“POTUS will get your guy home safely to you, don’t worry,” was the last thing I’d said over the three-way call with Michael’s wife and Julia before they’d both hit me with thank yous and goodbyes. They didn’t need to thank me, but I was sure as hell choked up with relief there was no reason to issue an I’m so sorry for your loss call instead of the one I’d made this morning.

Michael was not only stable and in recovery, but the doctors assured all of us he’d be fine. I knew doctors rarely delivered news like that, just in case anything went sideways while their patient was still in the hospital, so . . .

Then again, Carter had paid them a visit at four in the morning, post-surgery, and he may have scared the surgeons into understanding Michael not being okay was not an option.

Speak of the devil. I pocketed my phone, looking up to see Carter returning to the space we’d taken over as our temporary tactical operations center. He’d changed from the clothes he’d worn last night to a tailored suit. I had to assume it was because of the FaceTime call he’d stepped out to take with Nicholas Barbier, and one other “guest” Carter had invited to the meeting as well.

Directing his focus to Griffin as he came up next to me, Carter asked, “Is he in?”

No time like the present for an update.

A lot had happened since the sun had set last night and rose again this morning. We’d been running on java and adrenaline ever since Tony Vanzetti handed over the ring with the list of names on it. It helped that the doctor here, at Mya’s insistence, had patched up the injuries I’d sustained from the fighting ring, making it a bit easier to power through this. But in truth, patched up or not, I could go a few more nonstop days if need be as long as we were going in the right damn direction like we were now.

“Savanna spoke to him,” Griffin brought Carter up to speed on what I already knew, “and POTUS arranged a military escort to Italy to help out. We’re good to go.”

I was grateful the off-the-cuff idea I’d come up with about accessing the vault was working out. We needed one of the world’s best safecrackers to get us in, and Marcus’s brother, Nick Vasquez, happened to be the man to do it.

Marcus had served as Bravo Three, and had been married to Savanna, until terrorists stole his life years ago. In a way, Nick had brought Savanna and Griffin together. Protecting Savanna when she’d been in danger was Falcon’s first official mission, and now here Nick was helping us out on our biggest op ever.

“We really have come full circle, haven’t we?” I spoke my thoughts almost casually, but I really did feel A-the-fuck-okay.

We had the list of names and one of the best safecrackers in the world helping us. POTUS managed to alert the Italians to stop a drone strike of the vault at 0300, staving off the attack by a minute or two. Talk about down to the wire. And for the first time in a long while, we were all safe.

Then there was the plea deal for Tony Vanzetti that’d been signed thirty minutes earlier. It came with immunity and no prison time, along with Mya’s blessing.

Meryl Vanzetti on the other hand, well . . .

Mya had stated, “Let the woman rot in hell. Anyone who can steal a baby from a mother deserves whatever she gets and then some.”

I knew she’d never been close with Meryl growing up, but had Tony been truly evil, that would’ve hurt her a hell of a lot more than she’d have cared to admit.

I looked over at Mya, working on the other side of the room with Gwen, Sydney, and Jessica. Talking animatedly with them, her hands flying in excitement. Or rage. Maybe a bit of both depending on the subject. I still couldn’t believe she had a whole other family out there.

In between trying to save the world since last night, Mya had taken a moment to look up her family online. She’d cried at the sight of their images while reading up on them. There wasn’t too much available. Not any information on her twin’s job or current whereabouts, but I assumed Gwen would do some more digging for her soon.

But those tears had been happy ones. Tears of relief and hope. The woman was strong, and she was choosing to be stubborn in a way we could all take a lesson from. Stubbornly focused on choosing to prioritize thinking about the good yet to come instead of focusing on the bad that brought us here.

“So,” I prompted, returning my attention to Carter. I waited for him to share news about his call with the hotel owner, especially about the curveball he’d planned to toss Nicholas’s way.

Carter gestured for us to follow him over to where the rest of Falcon was gathered. Well, we were missing our honorary member, Mason, but he’d texted a little while ago and was heading to the base now that we knew Michael was stable and solid.

“McGregors going home to Ireland now? Renaud?” Griffin asked Carter as we cut across the room together.

“Yeah, they were waiting to spin up until my call with Renaud and Barbier ended,” Carter shared.

Mya had been sitting on the edge of Gwen’s desk, and at the sight of us, she hopped off. Her attention flitted toward the roll-up door, and I turned to see Mason there.

The man didn’t waste time, heading straight to Mya. And for once, I didn’t recoil or flinch as he hugged her. Progress.

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