Page 123 of Rescuing Mia

A mixture of relief and anxiety washes over me. This part of my journey is ending, but what awaits me on the surface?

Chapter Forty-Three

RIGEL

After arriving in San Francisco,we’re whisked away to a waiting bus and head south along the California coastline for a couple of hours. When we arrive at Guardian HRS, a wave of disbelief washes over me.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the true scope of Guardian HRS’s operations. The scale of this place is beyond anything I could have imagined.

We’ve been here for a few days now, and every corner I turn, I discover something new and astonishing.

Guardian HRS occupies several thousand acres just off the Pacific Coast Highway in California. The sprawling compound is a blend of high-tech facilities and tactical training grounds, each more impressive than the last.

The main technical building is a marvel of modern engineering, a hub of constant activity and innovation. Adjacent to it are buildings designated for the Guardian teams, each one a self-contained unit with bullpens for each team.

The organization and efficiency here are mind-boggling.

Then there’s the gym—or rather, the fitness complex. Calling it a gym would be a gross understatement. It’s the size of a footballfield, complete with a rock-climbing wall that spans an entire side. There are mats laid out for hand-to-hand combat training, a running track encircling the entire space, and weights of every conceivable type. Guardian HRS leaves no stone unturned in keeping its operatives in peak physical condition.

Beyond the fitness complex are the shooting ranges. They’ve got everything covered—from small arms ranges to long-distance shooting platforms, even specialized areas for sniper training. Whole-scale mock-ups of urban environments are used for tactical training, complete with buses, cars, and even an airplane fuselage. It’s like a small city dedicated entirely to preparing for any scenario.

Mia and I have been put up in one of the several dormitories reserved for visiting contractors. Our room is functional, with all the essentials, but it’s the amenities around us that truly stand out. Full cafeterias offer a range of meals at all hours, catering to the personnel’s diverse schedules.

An on-site medical facility is equipped to handle everything from routine check-ups to emergency surgeries. Mitzy practically has her own kingdom within the technical building, buzzing with activity day and night.

Despite the grandeur and the state-of-the-art facilities, the sense of purpose and mission resonates the most with me. Guardian HRS isn’t just about having the best tools; it’s about the people—their dedication, skills, and unwavering commitment to the mission.

I’m on a break from Guardian HRS’s rigorous in-processing and onboarding programs. The day we arrived, I signed on the dotted line. I’m officially a Guardian, Charlie-Five, and couldn’t be happier.

I sit on the edge of the bed, flipping through some papers, when the door flies open. Mia bursts into the room, her face alight with excitement, a piece of paper held high above her head.

“I got it! I got it! It’s official— the U.S. granted me asylum!” She practically dances into the room, her joy infectious.

“That’s amazing.” I stand, a grin spreading across my face.

She throws her arms around me, the paper fluttering to theground. “Thank you, Rigel. Thank you for… Well, for everything. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You did this. I just came along for the ride.” I hold her close, feeling the weight of the past few weeks lift, even if only for a moment.

“You know that’s not true. The only reason I’m alive is because of you, and now you’re my official Guardian Protector.” She pulls back slightly, her eyes shining. “It feels surreal, but…” Her words trail off into silence.

No reason to wonder what she’s thinking. As long as she stays within Guardian HRS’s walls, she’s safe.

But it also makes her a prisoner.

“Ethan’s called a meeting later today.” We’re going to discuss the next steps—precisely what those need to be.

She smiles, but it’s tinged with the weight of everything we’ve been through. “So, what do we do until then?”

“How about we head to the gym?” I suggest. “I can show you some hand-to-hand combat techniques. It’ll help you feel more confident and keep your mind off things.”

Her eyes light up with interest. “I’d like that. Lead the way.”

We make our way to the fitness complex. The place is buzzing with activity—operatives running laps, lifting weights, sparring on the mats. It’s a hive of relentless energy and determination. We find an empty section, and I drop my bag to the floor.

“Alright,” I say, turning to Mia. “Let’s start with some basic moves. Have you ever done any martial arts?”

She shakes her head. “Not really. I’ve always wanted to learn, though.”

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