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"Looks like the cavalry has arrived," I note, hearing the distant wail of sirens growing louder.
"Finally." Jasmine stands, offering her hands to the children. "Let's get you all somewhere safe."
"Somewhere warm," I add, getting to my feet. "With hot chocolate, maybe?"
"Sounds perfect," she agrees, and together, we herd the children towards the promise of safety, away from the darkness of the van.
"Hot chocolate with marshmallows," a child pipes up, and despite everything, laughter trickles through the tension, a reminder of life's resilience.
"Marshmallows it is," I confirm, and we move forward, united in purpose and bound by the heart.
The sea of blue uniforms floods in, and the children, once silenced by fear, now find their voices in a chorus of relief. Small hands point toward Jasmine and me as they recount to the officers how we emerged from the shadows to shatter their nightmare.
"Those two," a boy with tousled hair says, his finger trembling as he gestures our way. "They fought the bad men."
"Like superheroes," another chimes in, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and the remnants of terror.
"Easy now," I tell them, trying to keep my voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside me. "We just did what anyone would do."
Jasmine nudges me with her elbow, shooting me a look that tells me she knows damn well not everyone would dive headfirst into danger. But right now, it's about the kids feeling safe, not about us.
"Thank you," a shy girl whispers, clutching a tattered doll to her chest. "For saving us."
"Of course, piccola," Jasmine replies, her voice soft but fierce. "Always."
As the police take over, ushering the children to safety, I feel Jasmine's hand slip into mine, squeezing tight. We watch in silence as paramedics check over each child, the reality of what could have happened pressing down on us like a physical weight.
Meanwhile, we speak with the cops, ensure that the kids will be given warm beds and meals and hot chocolate tonight.
I already called the Mayor while the cops spoke to the kids, and he guaranteed excellent care for them until they are all safety reunited with loved ones, or safely placed in better homes.
I offered as much money necessary to ensure their safekeeping till then and demanded names and ID's for all kids we rescued tonight so I can personally check in on them.
The Mayor promised I'd have the list the minute the cops compile it.
"Let's go home," Jasmine murmurs, and I nod now that my work here is done, feeling the pull to be somewhere familiar, somewhere secure.
The drive back to my place is silent, save for the occasional sigh or the soft hum of the engine. When we arrive, the apartment feels too quiet, too still. The ghost of gunpowder and fear still clings to us.
"I can't stop seeing their faces," I admit, tossing my keys on the kitchen counter with more force than necessary. "The fear in their eyes..."
"Neither can I," Jasmine says, slipping out of her jacket and moving closer. "But we gave them back their hope tonight, Dario. That counts for something."
"Everything," I correct her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her against me. Her body molds to mine, a perfect fit even amidst the chaos that surrounds us.
Our hearts beat in tandem, both racing from the adrenaline that hasn't quite left our systems.
Chapter 23
An Apple can Fall Far from the Tree
Jasmine
But then, to my horror, he pulls back and scares the living hell out of me. "Damn it," he mutters, slamming a fist against the wall, the thud resonating like a drumbeat of his guilt. "I should have found another way."
"Dario..." My voice is soft, a whisper against the storm of his frustration. I step closer, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.
"Jasmine, you don’t understand." His eyes find mine, fierce and dark. "If I hadn't... if we hadn't been forced to kill them, we could've gotten answers. Now we'll never know who's pulling the strings."
