Page 115 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“I should get my things from Hank and Gabe’s place first,” I say, glancing at the time. “Need anything while I’m out?”

“Just get back before dark,” Malia replies, her voice dry but her eyes serious. “Rebel’s bringing wine, and Sophia’s making her lasagna. The comfort carbs are already spoken for.”

I promise to return soon, then step outside into the golden late-afternoon light. The breeze carries the scent of ocean salt and sun-warmed asphalt, but there’s something else in the air, something wired and tense. Like even the sky is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

One of the newer Guardian officers—Darren, I think—falls into step beside me.

“I’ll walk you, ma’am,” he says, his gaze already scanning. Calm but alert.

With Hank and Gabe gone and Sentinel whispers rising, I’m not about to turn down backup.

We reach the outer gate just as a sleek black SUV pulls up, followed closely by a second vehicle. The lead car’s window lowers, revealing a familiar profile behind mirrored aviators.

“Harrison,” I say, already feeling a sliver of the tension in my shoulders ease.

He steps out with his usual precision, tall and imposing in a dark suit despite the heat. My father’s personal security chief, Harrison, has always been a wall of calm authority. I used to resent the way he tracked my every move. Now, I take comfort in it.

As the rear door opens behind him, he offers me a thin black case. “Your replacement laptop.”

I blink. “You didn’t have to?—”

“I did,” he cuts in gently. “Per your father’srequest. Fully encrypted. No wireless capability until cleared by Guardian’s systems.”

I take it carefully, the weight of it more reassuring than I expect. A clean slate. A controlled system. Something I can trust.

“Thank you.”

He gives a nod. “Let’s get what you need.”

The drive to Hank and Gabe’s is short and silent, except for Harrison murmuring a brief check-in to his team over comms. When we arrive, he doesn’t move right away.

Instead, three of his people exit the trailing vehicle, fanning out toward the house without a word.

“We’ll perform a quick sweep before you go in,” Harrison says. “Standard procedure.”

I nod, not even pretending to resist. “Of course.”

I stay seated in the SUV as his team moves with professional efficiency—one around the back, another to the side entrance, a third up the front walk. Less than five minutes later, I see the hand signal through the windshield.

Harrison opens the door. “You’re clear.”

Inside, the house is still. Too still. Without Gabe and Hank, it feels like the place is holding its breath. I move quickly—clothes, toiletries, a pair of worn slippers, just enough to feel like me. No lingering.

In the bathroom, I pause, catching sight of myself in the mirror. Dark circles shadow my eyes, and tension lines my mouth. I haven’t been sleeping well, even before Hank and Gabe left. The stress of my upcoming thesis defense combined with the increasing electronic malfunctions and security concerns has left me perpetually on edge.

I finish packing and am about to leave when I notice Hank’s hoodie draped over a chair. Without thinking, I grab it, bringing it to my face. The fabric smells like him—sandalwood, clean sweat, that indefinable scent that is uniquely Hank. I fold it carefully and add it to my bag, needing this small connection to him.

When I return to the SUV, Harrison waits with the door open. I slide inside with the new laptop cradled in my arms and my overnight bag at my feet.

As we pull away, I don’t look back.

Not because it hurts.

Because I know they’ll be back.

They have to be.

On the drive back to Guardian HRS, I stare out the window as Harrison navigates the winding coastal road.

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