Page 19 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Unfortunately, normal isn’t an option when you’re a Collins, something Dad has accepted, but I still fight, even after everything.

He’s not a bad father; he’s just overprotective, and that causes friction between us.

He supported my decision to attend Cornell, beamed with pride at my dual engineering and physics degrees, and never once suggested I ride on his tech empire’s coattails. Beneath his pride in my academic achievements, however, he struggles with the fact that his brilliant, headstrong daughter keeps putting herself in harm’s way.

The irony isn’t lost on me—I can calculate fusion containment fields in my sleep, but somehow, I convinced myself I was invincible enough to ditch my security team.

When my father reaches me, he crushes me in a fierce, unrelenting hug. At first, it’s awkward—he’s never been one for overt affection—but then his arms tighten, his grip almost desperate. His shoulders shake, his breath shudders against my hair, and I feel it—his fear, his relief, his overwhelming need to hold me close, as if letting go means losing me all over again.

For all the times I’ve pushed back against his protectiveness, for every battle over my independence, he’s still my dad—the man who checked my advanced calculus homework and bought me circuit boards instead of dolls. Right now, he needs to hold me, and I need to feel his love.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispers, the unspoken words lingering between us—please stop making me worry like this.

My throat constricts. “Me too.”

How do you tell your father you finally understand his fear? That being brilliant doesn’t make you bulletproof?

He releases me, his gaze intent, searching my face. “We’ll get you home. Whatever you need, we’ll make it happen.”

A breath shudders through me, my fingers tightening briefly at my sides before I turn toward Hank and Gabe, who watch from a respectful distance.

Reluctant to let them fade into the background, I reach out, my hands finding theirs with a familiarity that surprises even me. I draw Hank forward with my right hand, feeling the calluses on his palm and the gentle way his fingerscurl around mine.

“This is Hank.” My voice is steadier than I feel. Then I pull Gabe closer with my left hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles in a way that might seem accidental but sends electricity shooting through me. “And this is Gabe. They’re the ones who got me out. Both times.”

My father’s eyebrows lift slightly at that detail, but he steps forward and offers each of them a firm handshake. Letting go feels wrong—my palms ache for their warmth the moment I release them.

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing my daughter back.”

“Just doing our job,” Hank replies modestly. Still, his eyes flick to mine for a fraction of a second, holding secrets from Kazakhstan—that moment in the shower when professionalism warred with something deeper.

Gabe smiles, and the same heat fills his gaze, although he keeps it carefully banked. “Your daughter is a strong woman. We’re glad we could assist.”

The words are professional, perfect for my father’s ears, but I don’t miss the undertones, the weight of everything unspoken thrumming in the air.

A sleek town car idles nearby—Dad’s always prepared. All I have are the borrowed clothes on my back, nothing else to show for the ordeal except bruises and memories.

Before I can follow my father to the waiting town car, Hank steps forward, his voice low—measured, but gentler than usual.

“There’s a standing offer to bring you to Guardian HQ. Medical check. Debrief. Whatever support you need.” His eyes search mine. “It’s routine. No pressure.”

My dad cuts in before I can answer. “She’s been through enough. She needs rest, not another interrogation.” His hand tightens on my shoulder. “I’ll make sure she has what she needs at home. If Guardian HRS requires anything, they can contact me directly.”

I look between them. Two very different kinds of protectiveness—one rooted in blood, the other in fire and fallout.

And part of me, the part that still aches in ways I can’t describe, wants to say yes. Wants to stay in their world just a little longer.

I hesitate, the weight of unsaid words pressing against my ribs. This is where we’re supposed to part ways. Where I’m supposed to slip back into my old life, safe and secure, but nothing about me feels the same anymore.

My gaze lingers on Hank and Gabe, who pulled me from the darkness—twice. There’s something unfinished between us, something I’m not ready to let go of. But with my father watching, with the car waiting, the best I can manage is a weak, “I’ll be in touch.”

It feels wrong.

Inadequate.

Like closing a book before reaching the final page. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to reach for them, to hold onto something real before I step into a world that suddenly feels too small.

Before I can second-guess myself, I reach for Hank first. His arms come around me, steady, restrained—but there’s heat beneath the careful control and a fraction of hesitation before he lets go.

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