Page 111 of Rescuing Rebel

The flight back passes in a blur. We offload the women, taking them directly to the medical facilities at Guardian HQ. When I’m not hovering outside the surgical suite, I drift in and out of sleep, thoughts churning.

Debriefings follow, a hazy recounting of the events leading up to the rescue. CJ and the others listen intently, probing for details, analyzing where we succeeded and where we can improve.

Finally, my team is released from duty with orders to rest and recover. I make my way to Medical and check in on Rebel. Doc Summers catches me and tells me Rebel’s still recovering and under heavy sedation following the surgery.

“Come back in the morning.”

I want to sit by her side, but Doc Summers politely tells me to leave.

Exhaustion bears down on me as I make my way through Guardian headquarters. The successful rescue leaves my spirits soaring, but my body feels like it went twelve rounds with a heavyweight boxer. I’m operating on fumes at this point.

But sleep remains elusive and out of reach. Too many questions churn through my mind, and every single one is centered around the mysterious woman now recovering from surgery.

Rebel risked everything for the charred papers I carry. She was willing to die for the secrets they contain. Well, I can help with that. I take the papers to our technical expert, Mitzy, and see if she can recover anything useful. Going behind Rebel’s back this way feels invasive, but my need to understand her outweighs those hesitations.

I find Mitzy hunkered down in her technical kingdom, surrounded by an orchestra of beeping CPUs and glowing displays. She glances up, fingers tapping away at three different keyboards simultaneously.

“Ethan, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Too much work to do.” She gestures to the monitors. “We’ve got weeks, if not months, of data to comb through. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find the records of previous women sold through Haven. No rest for the weary.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“So…” She taps her fingers. “Why are you up at Oh-dark-thirty?” Her psychedelic hair sparkles in the low light.

“Couldn’t sleep and holding these for Rebel.” I pass the folded papers to Mitzy. “I’m hoping you can work some magic on these. They’re damaged, but important to her.”

“Important?” Her brows pinch together. “How?”

“I’m hoping you can answer that for me. I know her sister was taken ten years ago, impregnated for aclient,and escaped just after the birth.”

“Wow, that’s a lot to process.”

“There’s more. Violet called Rebel. Violet was caught and killed during that call, but not before telling Rebel about the baby. She’s hoping something on those papers will tell her where that child wound up.”

“Damn. When I think I’ve heard and seen it all.”

“I’m hoping you can find something. It was important enough for Rebel to brave fire, smoke, and the building nearly coming down around her ears.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mitzy spreads the charred documents on the table. Her brow furrows. She turns on an overhead camera and magnifying lens. “Well, this is a mess.”

“I can’t make out anything. Is it a total loss?” I admit to being somewhat conflicted. Part of me wants to find nothing on these documents. Part of me hopes there’s something there. Something worth Rebel risking her life.

“Let me see what I can do.” She looks up from the papers.

For the next half hour, I watch her manipulate the pages under different light spectrums, run chemical tests, and try various imaging techniques to draw out faint impressions.

Aside from a partial logo, the papers remain stubbornly illegible.

“Ugh, stupid, stupid paper,” Mitzy mutters, taking the failure personally. “It’s almost as if it was engineered to self-destruct if tampered with. I’m wringing every trick out of my bag here.”

“Those documents have been through hell.” I squeeze her shoulder. “I appreciate you trying.” When I lean in to take back the documents, Mitzy places a hand on my arm.

“Do you mind leaving it with me?”

“Not at all.”

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