Page 82 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

The predator in him is momentarily leashed but not gone. It lingers in how he watches me, waiting, ready to react if I hint at regret.

I hold his gaze, letting him see the truth. “I’m good,” I say, voice firm. “More than good.”

Something shifts in his expression—relief, maybe even something deeper. He nods once, then turns forward again, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh.

Hank chuckles from the driver’s seat. “Guess that settles that.”

Silence falls again, but it’s different now—like we’ve acknowledged something meaningful without naming it.Hank squeezes Gabe’s shoulder, which seems to communicate volumes between them.

I lean back against the seat, letting my eyes close briefly. For all the chaos of the past weeks, there’s something strangely comforting about being here, now, with these two complicated men. Even as I try to understand what Gabe showed me—whatwejust did—I feel oddly secure.

Guardian HRS headquarters gradually reveals itself from the winding coastal road—a sprawling compound spanning thousands of acres along the California coastline. It’s nothing like the urban office building I imagined. Instead, it’s a self-contained world deliberately set apart from civilization.

As we approach the main security gate, I take in the scale of the operation—numerous buildings of different architectural styles spread across the landscape, connected by winding roads and pathways. The Pacific Ocean glitters beyond the property’s western edge, providing a stunning backdrop and a natural security barrier.

“We’re here,” Hank announces.

I straighten and push thoughts of the bedroom firmly aside. Time to focus. Time to be Ally Collins again, not a woman caught between two magnetic men.

“Home sweet home,” Gabe murmurs as we pass through the checkpoint, guards nodding respectfully at Hank.

“It’s enormous,” I say, eyes wide as we drive deeper into the compound. “I had no idea it was so… extensive.”

“Several thousand acres,” Hank explains, navigating the main road that branches off toward different sectors. “Forest insisted on having enough space for everything we might need—training facilities, residential areas, medical, administrative, technical development.”

“Complete self-sufficiency,” Gabe adds. “We even grow some of our own food in the agricultural section.”

We pass a gleaming building of metal and glass that seems to hum with energy. “Mitzy’s domain,” Gabe explains. “The tech building. Where all the brainiacs work their magic.”

Beyond that stands a more utilitarian structure—square,efficient, and built for function over form. “That’s the Guardian’s main operations center,” Hank says. “Houses the bullpens for all four teams, mission control, briefing rooms…”

As we continue our drive, I spot what looks like a small town in the distance—buildings of different heights and styles clustered together behind a perimeter fence. “Is that?—”

“Mock urban environment for tactical training,” Hank confirms. “We can simulate pretty much any scenario—hostage situations, extractions, infiltrations.”

Further along, I glimpse shooting ranges, sniper platforms, and what appears to be a full-sized football stadium. “The gym,” Gabe says, following my gaze. “Where we’re headed.”

We pull into a parking area near the main operations building.

“The bullpen is in there,” Hank explains, nodding toward the square, utilitarian structure. “One large building divided into four sections, one for each team—Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta.”

“The center of the building houses shared spaces,” Gabe adds. “Tactical briefing rooms, mission control, comms center—everything we need for coordinated operations.”

“Most Guardians live off-site,” Hank continues, gesturing toward a cluster of buildings in the distance. “But there are several residential areas for short-term contractors and special situations.”

“Special situations?” I ask.

Gabe nods. “People who need to be on base for security reasons. Like Jenna and Sophia—they’re under our protection, as is Mia.”

“Mia?” The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

“Another asset we extracted from Malfor’s clutches,” Hank explains, his voice lowering slightly. “She’s been granted asylum here. Malfor wants her back badly, so she stays on-site where we can protect her. The same goes for Jenna and Sophia.”

“Is that what I am?” I ask, suddenly wondering about my status. “An asset?”

Gabe’s expression softens. “You’re whatever you want to be, sweetheart. But yes, technically, you’re a high-value asset that Malfor would love to recapture.”

“Over there—” Hank points to a cozy-lookingbuilding with outdoor seating, “is The Guardian Grind. Best coffee on the west coast.”

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