Page 8 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Where the first man anchors, this one anticipates—already three steps ahead and planning contingencies.

I glance between the two men, disoriented by their intense focus. I can’t wrap my head around a surge of something hot and instinctive—so wildly out of place, it could almost pass for attraction—forbothmen.

The unexpected feeling quietly roots itself somewhere deep beneath my ribs. It shouldn’t be there. It shouldn’t exist, not here, not after everything.

But it is.

They flank me as if they could stop the ground from shaking—protect me from any threat. The rational part of my brain screams at its sheer absurdity, yet some part of me—small, buried, and desperate—leans into the way they hold their positions.

The taller one shifts his weight slightly, returning my attention to him.

“Hank,” he says in that same firm, low tone, as though he’s confirming something that’s already clear.

“And I’m Gabe,” the other one adds quietly. His voice provides warmth and grounding even as those calculating eyes lock on mine.

Hank glances at Gabe and then back to me, and in that silent exchange, there’s a flicker of understanding, an invisible thread connecting them. It’s as if they’ve reached a mutual decision—something that concerns me and places me at the center of their silent conversation.

They seem to be waiting for a reply, but my throat tightensaround whatever words might’ve lived there. Instead, I glance toward the other rescued hostages. None of them are bracketed like this—none are flanked by a shield made solely for them.

Tentatively, I reach out, my fingers brushing against theirs in a silent plea for connection. I feel an unexpected warmth in how they each take one of my hands, their grips steady and reassuring.

“Ally,” I manage in little more than a whisper. My throat feels raw from cold air and swallowed screams, but it’s enough for both men to nod. “Ally Collins.”

“We know, luv.” Hank says, and his words hit me square in the chest, steady and direct like they’ve weighed my name in their heads before. “We’re part of the Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists.”

“Let’s get you out of the cold, sweetheart.” Gabe’s words slice through the frigid air, carrying a gentle but unyielding authority.

With that quiet command, I surrender without a second thought.

Hank and Gabe’s steady and reassuring grips on my hands exude an undeniable energy. They guide me with a protective confidence.

The next moments—or hours, I can’t be sure—blur into a strange haze of movement and noise.

I’m processed with the other rescued hostages and undergo a quick medical check. A medic examines me for injuries, shining a light in my eyes and checking my pulse.

The medical facility is nothing like Malfor’s sterile, intimidating labs. Warm lighting softens the clinical environment, and the medical staff speak gently rather than bark commands.

Throughout the exam, Hank remains at my side, a calm, stoic guardian, while Gabe steps away briefly to speak with a commander nearby.

“Does this hurt?” the medic asks, palpating a tender spot on my arm.

“A little,” I admit, but my focus shifts back to Hank, whose presence is steadying. His eyes meet mine with the same intense focus he’s had since the firefight, which somehow centers me in the midstof the chaos.

Gabe reappears with a bottle of water, the chill of the plastic a reminder of just how long it’s been since I’ve had a moment to care for myself.

“Here,” he offers, unscrewing the cap before handing it to me with a reassuring smile. “Drink. You need to stay hydrated.”

I take it, grateful for the gesture, and let the cool water slide down my parched throat, easing some of the rawness left by the cold air and lingering fear.

“Almost done, Dr. Collins,” the technician says, moving a scanner over my body. “Just standard procedure for all rescued personnel.”

My mouth quirks in a small smile. “It’s just Ally. I don’t have my PhD. At least not yet.”

He offers me a brief nod before refocusing on the monitor displaying my vitals. Everything looks normal—my heart rate is still elevated but coming down, my oxygen levels are good, and my blood pressure is stable.

The technician frowns slightly, tapping at a small anomaly on the screen. “Huh, that’s odd.”

My throat tightens. “What is it?”

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