Page 113 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

The rest of my shift passes in a blur of customers and coffee, but I can’t stop thinking about Mike and his “repairs.” When my break finally comes, I find myself wandering toward the espresso machine, now reassembled and supposedly functioning again.

“Good as new,” Mike announces, wiping hishands on a rag. “Though I still recommend a replacement. This one’s on its last legs.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Malia points out. “Yet somehow it keeps limping along.”

“Well, I’m a miracle worker,” he says with a wink, but I sense something calculating in his expression as he packs up his tools. “Actually, I’ve got approval to install a brand new model next week. State of the art.”

“Really?” Jenna looks surprised. “Budget finally came through?”

“Something like that.” Mike’s smile tightens fractionally. “Special request from higher up. They want to make sure you ladies have the best equipment.”

“Since when does Forest care about our coffee quality?” Rebel asks, not bothering to hide her skepticism.

“Not my department,” Mike says with a casual shrug. “I just install what they tell me to.”

I pull out my phone, out of habit, and realize the battery is now completely dead despite showing 30% just an hour ago.

A familiar frustration bubbles up—these electronic issues are beyond annoying now.

“Do you think Mike ever fixes anything?” I ask Malia as she tests the espresso machine.

“Doesn’t look like it,” she confirms as the machine makes a concerning grinding noise. “Same old issues. I swear he makes it worse every time.”

“Has he always been the technician here?” I keep my voice casual.

“Pretty much since we opened Guardian Grind.”

“Ever think you should try someone else?”

“I’d love to, but the background checks are insane here. Takes forever to clear someone. As long as he can keep it limping along… Why?”

“No reason,” I say quickly. “Just curious.”

But my mind is already connecting dots I hadn’t even realized were related. The electronic malfunctions that started with my laptop. The increasing frequency of Mike’s visits. The strangedevice among his tools. His unusual attention to security features that should be irrelevant to coffee machine repairs.

Could it all be connected?

Not Mike—not directly—but the technical glitches. The sudden battery drain. The flickering screens. The way Mitzy confiscated both my laptop and USB without explanation, her expression tight, unreadable.

Before I can follow that thread any further, the café door swings open, and Malikai steps inside, a familiar flash drive clutched in his hand.

“There you are,” he says, eyes locking on me as he steps into Guardian Grind, a familiar USB drive pinched between his fingers.

I straighten instinctively. “Malikai.”

Seeing him here still feels surreal. The last time we were in the same room, we were locked inside a research compound, prisoners of Malfor—of Sentinel. Now he’s in Guardian black, standing in line at the café like the past hasn’t followed us both here.

He crosses the room with purpose, the easy confidence in his stride a stark contrast to the tension knotting my stomach. His build’s a little stronger, his eyes sharper—but there’s still a softness when he looks at me. A shared weight we’ll never fully put down.

He lifts the USB slightly. “Mitzy asked me to return this.”

I take it carefully. “Did she say anything else?”

“She’s sorry for delaying getting back to you. She’s been busy with other things, but told me to tell you that she’s still digging.”

“What about my laptop?”

“Officially fried. Drive started acting up during diagnostics and just flatlined. She couldn’t trace the exact malfunction, but whatever happened—it wasn’t normal.”

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