Page 9 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“Some kind of interference.” He adjusts a few settings and reruns the scan over my wrist and neck. The scanner flickers, displaying unusual readings. He taps his tablet, which also briefly glitches. “We’ve had equipment acting strange since the extraction teams returned. Must be electromagnetic interference from the facility explosion.” He shrugs and sets the scanner aside. “All your vitals are normal though; that’s what matters.”

I rub my wrist absently, feeling nothing unusual beneath my skin now. Just smooth, normal flesh.

He sets the scanner aside and helps me off the exam table. I glance around, still a bit disoriented from the rush of recent events. The technician smiles politely, gesturing me toward the exit. “You’re all set. Gabe and Hank can take you through final processing.”

I thank him and step out of the medical tent, flanked by Hank and Gabe. The hum of activity surrounds us—radios crackling, equipment being sorted, voices echoing down hallways.

“How are you feeling?” Gabe asks, his tone gentle.

“Alive,” I manage, hugging my arms around myself. My body still trembles with lingering adrenaline.

Gabe exchanges a look with Hank. “We’ll take you to the staging area so you can decompress.” He leads me down a corridor lined with supply crates and med carts. “They’ll want a quick debrief, but after that, you can rest.”

Hank stays watchful and solid by my side, making me feel safer than I’d care to admit. As we walk, a deepening chill sinks into my bones. My shoulders shake with each step, and I wrap my arms tighter around my ribs.

We enter a wide room that smells faintly of disinfectant and rubber. Blankets and gear are scattered across tables, rescuers milling about in subdued chatter. Hank pauses near a stack of duffel bags, kneeling beside one with his name scrawled on the side. He rummages through it before pulling out a thick sweatshirt.

“Here,” he says, the gruff warmth in his voice a surprising contrast to his broad, imposing frame. “This should help keep you warm.”

I swallow hard, taking the sweatshirt. Its fabric is worn and soft beneath my fingertips. Without thinking, I lift it to my nose, inhaling the comforting scent of him—earthy and steady. The realization that he’s offering me a piece of himself, literally and figuratively, catches me off guard, and unexpected emotion swells in my chest.

Hank notices mysniffand smirks, then gently helps me slip my arms through the sleeves as though handling something fragile. The warmth of the sweatshirt envelops me, and with it comes a wave of relief that nearly buckles my knees. The tension of the last few hours snaps, leaving me undone.

Chapter 4

Before I can stop myself,I fling my arms around his neck, tears springing to my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice tight with the release of pent-up fear and gratitude.

His hold is firm and reassuring, just for a moment, before he eases back, meeting my gaze. In the depths of his eyes, I sense understanding—he knows what we’ve just been through, knows the weight of it.

A moment of connection transcends mere gratitude. Not quite attraction—yet—but recognition, as if some part of me instinctively knows this man is important. My heart quickens, responding to his quiet strength and the safety he offers after months of constant fear. It’s too soon for anything more, but the seed of possibility plants itself in that shared look.

Gabe clears his throat, his timing impeccable and slightly apologetic. Hank and I break apart, turning to see Gabe nearby, a soft smile on his lips. The warmth in his eyes reflects empathy and relief. My throat tightens with gratitude for both of them.

The emotional current pulls me toward him now, my body craving the same connection and reassurance I found with Hank. I step toward Gabe, wrapping my arms around his waist, my headbarely at his chest. He’s solid, immovable, like a living shield. A quiet hum of comfort threads through me, and I exhale shakily against him. He returns the embrace gently, so careful not to aggravate any hidden bruises.

In that fragile moment, surrounded by chaos yet flooded with solace, I understand how deeply the bonds of survival can forge themselves in the heat of crisis.

These two men—my unexpected protectors—offered safety in a storm I barely survived. For now, that’s enough.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” I murmur, my voice still thick with emotion.

Gabe’s arms encircle me with a firm gentleness that makes me feel cocooned in warmth and strength. I lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. He bends down and plants a soft kiss on the crown of my head, a gesture that sends a comforting shiver through me.

His fingers curl slowly in my hair, applying gentle yet unmistakable pressure as he tilts my head back to meet his gaze. The world narrows to just us in that moment, everything else fading into the background.

There’s a pause, the space between us charged with tension. My heart thrums in my chest, responding to the intensity in his eyes.

Then, almost imperceptibly, Gabe’s gaze flicks over to Hank. It’s a small gesture, but one that reveals a deeper communication between them, something I can’t quite decipher in my exhausted state.

I catch Hank’s expression from the corner of my eye. He doesn’t look away. Something in his gaze mirrors Gabe’s earlier intensity, sending my pulse skittering with curiosity and excitement.

A tingle of anticipation settles deep in my stomach. Neither Gabe nor Hank presses the moment further, but the awareness pulses in the space between us, vibrant and alive. For now, it’s enough to acknowledge it, to let it hover in the air, promising that this connection—whatever form it takes—might be farfrom ordinary.

With my mind spinning and my heart pounding, I pull back slightly, looking at Hank and Gabe with a new awareness.

Hank places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We’re almost ready to move out.” His voice is low and steady, embodying a quiet authority that anchors the moment.

Watching them, there is a synergy between Gabe and Hank—each movement balanced against the other’s. Hank appears to be the decision-maker, calm and self-possessed, while Gabe translates those decisions into action with a physical, almost feral intensity. It’s fascinating how seamlessly they operate, like they’ve mastered each other’s rhythms long ago.

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