The sun broke through the clouds like a reluctant promise, casting a pale glow over the chaos left behind at the warehouse.
Talia sat in the backseat of the SUV, both babies tucked securely in her arms. Luna clung to her mother's shirt while Zane nestled quietly against her chest, his tiny fists balled in comfort. She hadn't let go of them for a second since the rescue, her arms aching—but she didn't care.
Ethan sat beside her, his entire frame tense, as if restraining the fury still simmering beneath his skin. One hand hovered over Zane's back protectively, the other clenched into a tight fist on his lap.
Behind them, the convoy moved steadily, guarded and watchful. Elijah was handling the aftermath—police statements, press management, security detail expansions—but Ethan had only one priority now: *his family*.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Talia looked up, eyes rimmed red. "I don't even know what 'okay' means anymore."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "This ends. Today."
