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“Oh yes, it is,” Wit said. “I’ll see to it.”
Hen jumped in front of him. “You’ll wait. I just got my brother back, and our sister is literally right outside those fucking doors. You will not take that away from us. You hear me? She’s going to need you. I’m… going to need you.”
Tears stained Hen’s face, and Wit dropped his head in defeat. “I-I…”
“I know, brother. You only have to be strong a little longer. We can do this. We’ve waited a lifetime. We can wait a few more minutes.”
“Don’t do it, Bartell. You’re done,” Cane yelled. “Step away from her. Now.”
“Dammit,” Killion muttered while trying to make heads or tails of the limited view he had of the scene. “Drop the damn gun.”
“FBI,” Pete Langley said. “We have you surrounded and your men in custody. You’re all alone out here, Bartell. Be smart about your next fucking move.”
After a brief silence, gunfire rang out once more, and chaos erupted. Wit and the others waited on bated breath to hear the words they needed in order to breach the door, abandon their mobile command, and get to their sister.
“Hold your positions,” Pete said, and there was silence.
Deafening, heart-aching silence. The kind that pulled at your heartstrings and drowned your soul until you couldn’t feel, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe.
“Target’s down,” Pete finally said. “The threat is neutralized.”
“He’s dead,” Wit said. “God have mercy… it’s over.”
That was all they needed to hear. Wit was out the door, Hen at his side, and the rest of the group hot on their heels. They needed to be there and see it for themselves. See that the threat was no longer waiting in the wings for their next diabolical move. It was finally over.
As they approached the gritty bullet-littered scene, they saw their wounded, sitting off to the side while others tended to their injuries and prepared them for transport. They also saw all the dead, and there were many. As they passed each body, they fixated on the face of the deceased and ruled them out, one by one, feeling relief until they saw an FBI agent had made the ultimate sacrifice, and then… one of their own. A young operative who’d only been with the Keepers a handful of years and was new to working in the field on missions like this. Wit closed his eyes as they passed and fought back the emotion consuming him… and the guilt.
The crowd parted like a Red Sea of people when they saw Wit and Hen approaching. Despite running as hard as they could, it felt like they were still a thousand miles away and never going to get to their desired location. To their sister. The world moved at a snail’s pace, and the voices around them were drawn out and muffled. Wit’s mind spun into such a sense of confusion, his own thoughts were no longer clear as he focused on one thing. Then he saw her. And he froze.
She rubbed her wrists, soothing the aching wounds from the zip ties that had restrained her to a broken-down chair. How cliché. Wit had worried and wondered about what it would be like seeing her for the first time. It was odd finding out who Hen was to him, but this… this was different. She’d been the most vulnerable and the most abused, and for that, the one they wanted to protect the most. But when he saw her… he knew it was her. But she wasn’t small. She wasn’t vulnerable. She was strong, beautiful, and had fire in her eyes, and he was delighted.
At that moment, he realized that he wasn’t the one who protected his brother and sister; he was strongforthem… he’d been strongbecauseof them. They’d each witnessed and endured their fair share of trauma, and he’d always thought she’d had the worst of it, but how did one measure the severity of trauma? At that moment, he asked himself, isn’t trauma… trauma? Isn’t the simplest to one the worst for another and vice versa? It was all relative and individual, and he saw a strong, confident woman who rose from the ashes and stood like a phoenix rising, conquering her past. Fearless. A force. A warrior and his damn hero.
He didn’t recognize her. Not in the least. The little girl he remembered and young adult he’d worried for wasn’t there. She was like him, like Hen. She was an overcomer, and confidence rolled off her. He recognized that. He knew exactly who he was looking at, not because of the steely-blue eyes looking back at him that he and Hen had too. He knew because he saw a fighter, a victor instead of a victim, triumph… not tragedy. He saw… his sister.
“Wit?” Her voice quaked. “Max?”
“Max?” Cane questioned.
“Maxwell Chester Roosevelt Meyer-Hendricks,” Hen said.
She let out a sob, surrounded by laughter. “Two of the most ridiculously long names. The Chester Roosevelt Meyer boys…”
“Okay, Rainy Jo Boo Bear.” Wit smiled. “Or are you finally over having the shortest name in the family and dropping the Boo Bear?”
She laughed through the tears and choked on the sobs as the siblings joined one another, embracing each other and crying together. They’d spent more of their lives apart than together, but at that moment… it felt like no time had passed at all. It was as though they had a new silent understanding that today was the last day they’d ever be apart… and the first day to forever… together.
Wit rested his forehead against Hen’s and Rainy’s. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe…”
“I know,” she said. “I know.”
Rainy stepped back a bit and rested her hand on her swollen belly.
“Oh geez, girl,” Hen said. “You’re…”
“Pregnant,” Wit deadpanned.
“Yeah, very.” She fought back a cringe and tried to force a smile when she gasped.
