Page 96 of Tag
Inside, the compound was a fractured world of shadows and harsh light. The air was thick with tension, every breath tasting of metal and grit. Shots cracked from somewhere ahead—short, efficient bursts. The team moved like clockwork: precise, unyielding, unrelenting.
My pulse spiked when I caught movement inside a low building. I slipped inside, my flashlight cutting through the dim.Five small faces stared back at me from the corner—eyes wide, cheeks streaked with dirt and fear.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, lowering my weapon. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
The smallest girl hesitated before stepping toward me, trembling. When I reached for her, she flinched—then melted into my arms like she’d been holding herself together for too long. My throat burned, but I kept my voice steady as I guided them out, shielding them with my body until we reached the extraction point.
A deafeningBOOMsplit the air behind us, flames licking the night sky—Raven’s work, taking out the armory.
Faron’s voice came over comms, clipped but certain.“Perimeter secure. All hostiles neutralized.”
I stopped just beyond the fence, the desert stretching out before us like freedom itself. Tag’s hand slid into mine, warm and firm.
“It’s over,” he said softly, searching my face as if willing me to believe it.
And for the first time in years… I did.
91
Aponi
The safehouse had never felt this still. No alarms. No barking orders. No pounding adrenaline—just the low hum of the fridge inside and the distant trill of some bird waking as the sun started to rise.
I stood on the porch, hands wrapped around a mug I’d forgotten to drink from, watching the first streaks of sunrise spill gold across the desert. Every breath felt deeper now, like I’d been living on scraps of air until this moment.
I heard him before I saw him—the slow, purposeful tread of boots on wood. Tag stepped into the glow of morning, his eyes catching the light, warm and sure.
“We did it,” he said, stopping beside me.
I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Chimera’s gone. For good.” Saying it out loud made my chest loosen, like someone had cut away the last binding around my ribs.
We stood there in quiet, letting the stillness wrap around us. Then his hand brushed mine—tentative at first, then certain. His voice dropped, rough with emotion.
“I love you, Aponi. I think… maybe I have since the moment I saw you. Even when I didn’t want to.”
The air caught in my throat. My heart thudded so hard I was sure he could feel it. “I love you too, Tag. You’re… home for me. The first real one I’ve ever had.”
His smile was small but fierce, like he’d just won the longest fight of his life. He pulled me in until our foreheads touched, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine.
“Then let’s make this our life,” he murmured. “No more shadows. No more running. Just you and me, facing whatever comes.”
I kissed him, slow and certain, the sunrise spilling over us in a cascade of light. It was the kind of kiss that anchored you, that saidwe survived, that promisedforever.
Two weeks later,Faron and I made the drive neither of us had ever truly wanted to make. The house was smaller than I remembered, the paint cracked and peeling, the yard overrun with weeds. I was surprised she still had this house that was never a home.
She opened the door before we could knock. Same sharp eyes, same tired lines. Her gaze flicked between us, startled for a second, then guarded.
“So… you’re alive,” she said flatly.
“Yes, we are alive,” Faron said, his voice calm but edged. “No thanks to you.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “I did what I could.”
“No,” I said quietly. “You did what was easy for you.”
Faron stepped forward, his tone final. “We didn’t come for an apology. We came to say goodbye.”
Something flickered in her eyes—regret, maybe—but it was too late. Tag’s presence at my back reminded me I didn’t need her understanding. I had my family now.
