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He starts explaining the plan as he pulls up the real estate listing on the computer screen nearest to us. I watch in amazement as he shows me pictures and narrates it all with a story of what our lives could be like there. It's a place for our group to go. A place that's nearly as safe as this one, but with freedom. With less rules and more flexibility. With a future that offers more than a life being surrounded by trees and security.
"The best part," he says during his conclusion, excitement making his voice rise. "There's a pool."
I feel my stomach flip. "Really?"
He double clicks on a picture to make it expand. Sure enough, it's a pool. My eyes burn. My throat feels tight. I squeeze his bicep, trying to fight the sudden feeling that this is all too good to possibly be true. "Jake…"
"I know, Case. It's okay."
"When will it be yours?"
"We're hoping within the next month. We'd like to be settled there before the holidays."
The holidays.
I can picture it - our group of misfits at the dinner table, Nolan presenting us with a gorgeous Thanksgiving meal. Maybe earlier in the day he realized he was missing an ingredient and panicked. Jake escorted me, Matt, and Bryce to the store. We never once felt unsafe as we giggled together over whether Nolan would approve of off-brand spices – spoiler alert, he wouldn’t.
Or all of us at Christmas, bleary eyed and smiling as we pass around tiny, cheap gifts that mean the world to us. Nolan trapping Maison under a mistletoe. All of us using signs to talk to Matt. Bryce curled up by the fire with a new book. Travis sneaking some ribbon to use on Carter later. Jake buying David a friend.
A home. A family. A safe place to be while we learn how to fly again.
"It's perfect," I tell him, my voice thick with the threat of tears. "It's absolutely perfect."
Chapter Forty-Four
Jake
If there's one thing I've learned over my years as an operator, it's that the easiest way of doing something will rarely work out. Ronan strikes out buying Elliot. He did everything he could without raising any alarm. Unfortunately, he pushed just a little too hard, to the point where an in-and-out extraction could lead to suspicion of him. We'll have to use outside help. A task force. It's not ideal, but saving Elliot is saving Elliot. We'll take what we can get.
I wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea for Carter and Casey to watch the live feed of Elliot getting - hopefully - rescued, but neither of them were willing to discuss any alternatives. That’s why Carter’s pressed tight to Travis and Casey is wrapped in my arms, their hands finding each other as Ace hacks into the security and body camera feeds so we can watch law enforcement try to take down the occupants of the private plane we’re almost positive Elliot is on.
Travis and I exchange a look when we see Borris Pasternak, the fucker who currently owns Elliot, appear on one of the many screens. There’s shouting - both Russian and English - coming from other screens, but with a gesture of his hand Travis has Ace singling out the audio of the main feed. The sound focuses just as the leader of this group lifts their gun to point it at the piece of shit blocking their way into the plane. “Step aside, Pasternak.”
“You have no right to do this!” Pasternak says in a heavy accent, his face twisted with rage. “This is a private-”
The lead shoves Pasternak, letting him tumble down the stairs past him, and steps onto the airplane. People start yelling again. Some men put their hands up in surrender. Some don’t. Someone falls to the ground. And then the body camera focuses, looking right at a man in all black, one hand holding a gun, the other gripping Elliot by his hair. The boy’s naked, bruised body is dangling like a ragdoll, his eyes barely open.
Carter cries out, lurching forward, but Travis pulls him back. Casey turns halfway, pressing his face into my chest and only peeking at the screen. He starts repeating under his breath, “Please, please, please-”
“Put the boy down or this ends bloody.”
“I rather like blood,” the man says in a surprising American accent. His grin is sinister as he presses his gun against Elliot’s head. He’s not going to back down. Fuck.
They try to talk some sense into him, telling him he’s not Elliot’s owner, that he’s not who they’re after, that if he lets the boy go safely, they’ll let him walk away. The guy doesn’t buy it. Just as he’s about to say as much, red blooms in the center of his forehead. He jerks, my gut jerking with him as I wait for one terrible, agonizing second to see if his finger will manage to press the trigger in reflex. But the gun falls.
So does Elliot.
The gun discharges when it hits the ground, but I can tell through all the noise and movements that it didn’t hit anyone. Everyone is too calm as they move toward Elliot. A woman collects Elliot in her arms, saying something to him we can’t hear. A man walks up to them with a kind smile and a blanket, helping the woman wrap it around the boy’s tiny, frail body.
“You’re safe now,” one of the men tells him. “You’re okay. We’re going to bring you to your mom.”
Seeming to be struggling to keep his eyes open, Elliot slurs, “I don’t like that game. C-can we play a different one?”
Casey makes an awful noise. I know why. Elliot isn’t the only one who had an owner who liked to play awful games. He isn’t the only one too afraid to believe that this time, freedom is real.
I’m not sure which of them moves first, but soon Travis and I have two boys at our feet, sobbing as they cling to each other. We wait, letting them have their moment of both relief and grief as we keep an eye on the screens to ensure nothing goes wrong as they get Elliot out. As the vehicles start to move, Ace switches to the drone he has handling the area, following until they reach the hospital we assumed they’d bring the boy to. The hospital where his mother should be waiting to see him.
“I want the full work-up,” I tell Ace as Travis kneels beside Carter, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If they give the kid a band-aid, I want to know about it.”
