Page 42 of Beyond Redemption

Her shoulders fell, something like relief crossing her face.

“But Bodhi, if it gets hairy… just stay back. Thomas and I will handle it. Your priorities are Olive and Stella and keeping them out of the line of fire.”

Bodhi reached for Olive’s hand then, threading their fingers together without ceremony. “I can do that.”

I turned to lift the window over the sink, letting the cool desert air waft in through the screen. Outside, the compound was humming with quiet activity. A truck passed. Boots crunched on gravel. Somewhere, a radio crackled softly.

“Possible inbound,” Thomas said, listening.

I nodded. “They’re here.”

I lifted Stella from the highchair and carried her to the front room, looking out the front window for any sign of movement beyond the perimeter. When I realized the buildings obstructed the view, I opened the door and stepped outside, walking until the entrance came fully into sight. Thomas, Olive, and Bodhi followed.

Engines droned low over the desert, a steady vibration under my boots, followed by the faint rattle of gear and metal. Dust rose first, a pale brown veil pulled across the road that led from the outer checkpoint up to the gate. The sun sat low and flat, turning the cloud into a smear of muted gold. It looked harmless at a distance, but so did a lot of things.

We walked to the Longhouse, standing just outside the entrance. The steel bars of the gate opened in a narrow span, big enough for friendlies to pass through, small enough for control.

“Bodhi? Take Olive and Stella into the Longhouse. Wait in the back room.”

“Bet,” Bodhi said, gently pulling Stella from my arms. He guided Olive through the door, giving us one last nod before closing it behind them.

“Vitals?” Thomas asked quietly.

He wasn’t talking about heart rate. It was his shorthand for my read.

“Compound’s calm,” I said. “Perimeter tight. Patrols casual on purpose. It’s quiet, but in a way that usually has teeth behind it.”

He nodded once, eyes on the caravan. “Did Olive seem nervous after Orientation?”

“She was anxious, but not in a way that worried me. More like… she’s bracing for impact. She knows what to expect, and she knows the plan. She’ll stay with Stella and Bodhi in the back of the Longhouse until we’ve spoken to the family, and once we come in, she can join us.”

“I’m glad she knows the plan,” he said. “That’s not why I asked. She’s minutes away from seeing almost everyone she loves for the first time in two and a half years, and she’s in there with our daughter who cries when I stub my toe and don’t make a sound.”

“So is Bodhi.”

The corner of his mouth moved in a ghost of a smile that never fully materialized. “I’m glad he’s here. He calms her.”

“Me, too.” My own pulse ticked faster than I wanted it to. I kept my hands still at my sides and focused on the convoy.

Four dark XL SUVs pushed through the dust, parting it like water. No markings, clean plates, nothing to draw a second look. Only well-kept steel with miles in their bones. The lead truck eased to a stop at the first checkpoint, the rest slowly stacking up behind it. Marcel’s men advanced with relaxed shoulders and quick eyes as they waited for the convoy to be cleared by the first guard booth. Calm, because this was standard. Temporary housing and orientation folded into discipline, morning drills, and order—in a place built to receive entire families without breaking stride.

Familiar enough for Thomas and me. For the rest of our civilian family... anything but.

The first SUV rolled forward to the second checkpoint and braked at the chalk line. After a minute or two, Taylor climbed out of the passenger seat, broad shoulders unfolding like the cab had been a size too small. He swept the compound in a slow arc, his jaw locked, mouth pressed thin. Falyn stepped down from the door behind him, same side, one arm hooking his. I wasn’t sure which one of them she meant to reassure… maybe both.

Last time I saw Falyn, her eyes held fire. Now, they were empty, hollow. Swollen, dark circles beneath, lids puffy from tears that hadn’t had time to heal. Her hair was twisted up into a loose, messy knot, not that she cared. The outfit read like a grab-and-go. No decisions, just the first things her hands touched.

Two children slid out of the back seat after them, lanky and restless in that middle stage between child and teenager. Hollis first, inches taller than the last time I’d seen him, scanning the compound with fascination and awe. Hadley followed, staying closer to Falyn’s side, eyes flicking from one armed guard to the next as if she were counting them. I was certain none of the grandkids knew the full story, not yet. They only knew their parents had been summoned, and that something had broken loose around the name Olive.

I tracked their movements like I would any new arrivals to a containment site. Gait, posture, eye contact. Taylor placed himself slightly in front of his family without making it obvious, his body angling toward the militia guards as they approached. Protect. Interpose. It was instinctive. It was also directed at the wrong threat.

“Supportive and furious,” I said under my breath.

Taylor’s breathing seemed controlled, shoulders loose enough to move. Every inch of him, though, suggested he was waiting for an excuse to murder someone.

The second SUV eased to a stop behind the first. Tyler was visible in the back seat, which already told me something about how they’d divided hierarchy on the way here. Ellison climbed out from behind him, one hand on the door, the other on the strap of a bag slung across her chest. She swept the compound with a clear, assessing look before reaching in to coax out their son, Gavin.

The third SUV rolled in and the air changed. I felt it, the way conversations drop and eyes shift when someone with a reputation that precedes him arrives. As the man climbed down, it confirmed my instincts.