I had tried my best to stay out of the whole missing nuke situation, but somehow, fate had other plans. Despite my intentions, I found myself dragged right into the thick of it. There I was, sitting in a room with Park, Sims, and Lazar—whom I was meeting for the first time—alongside Adler, Woods, Mason, and Hudson. The tension in the air was palpable, and the weight of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders.

The conversation flowed back and forth, centered on Stitch and his whereabouts. Strangely enough, the missing nuke wasn't their primary concern. It was alarming to realize that Stitch's relentless pursuit of me had become the focal point. They all agreed: whatever Stitch was planning, it seemed personal, and that made him even more dangerous.

Outside, the house was locked down like a fortress. Security around the perimeter was impossibly tight, with guards stationed at every entrance. Each vehicle was rigorously inspected, and every individual had to show ID to pass through. The meticulous precautions underscored the gravity of the situation. It was surreal to see such an intense operation in action, but the knowledge that all of this was because of one man—Stitch—was chilling.

The room buzzed with low voices and sharp exchanges of information. Maps were sprawled across the table, marked with red circles and lines tracing possible leads on Stitch. Despite the chaos, the team radiated a sense of calculated determination, a stark contrast to my own swirling thoughts. How had I gotten here? And more importantly, how was I supposed to get out of this alive?

"I'm so sick of this shit, Hudson. This isn't what I signed up for," I spat, slamming my fist onto the table. The sharp crack seemed to echo in the tense silence of the room. The others visibly stiffened, their conversations cutting off mid-sentence as they glanced in my direction. Even Hudson looked taken aback, his usual unflappable demeanour faltering.

After a moment of stunned silence, Hudson's expression hardened. "You're the one that came to us!" he barked, jabbing a finger in my direction. "You started this shit."

His words hit like a slap. My anger flared white-hot, and before I realized it, I was on my feet. I crossed the room in a few quick strides, my boots hitting the floor with a purpose. The tension thickened as I loomed over him, and I could feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. Some glanced nervously at one another, others outright avoided looking our way, but no one dared to intervene—yet.

"Don't you ever fucking dare blame this on me," I growled, my voice low but trembling with fury. "I know I came to you, but don't twist it. Russell found me. If it weren't for them, I'd be goddamn lost. So don't you stand there and act like I owe you anything. You're not my saviour. Fuck you, Hudson."

For a moment, I thought he might push back, that this argument was about to spiral into something even uglier. But before Hudson could muster a retort, Woods was on his feet.

"Alright, that's enough," Woods snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air. He marched over to where we stood, and in a move that made the room collectively hold its breath, he jabbed a finger into Hudson's chest. "You wanna run your mouth, fine. But don't pin this crap on someone who's been in the middle of it, day in and day out."

Hudson stiffened, but Woods didn't back off. "You think you're the only one who's pissed about how things turned out? We're all sick of it, Hudson. So maybe, just maybe, shut your mouth and think for a second before you start throwing blame around."

The room was deathly silent, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Even Hudson seemed momentarily at a loss for words. I stepped back, my heart pounding as I tried to rein in my fury. The room felt like a powder keg about to ignite, and everyone knew it.

"This little pissy match ain't gonna get us anywhere," Sims muttered, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. His tone was casual, but the underlying frustration was clear as day. The room's tension eased slightly, though not by much.

"Bell and Woods are right," Adler said, breaking the silence as he rose from his seat. His voice was steady, calm but firm—the kind of voice that commanded attention. "No one's to blame here, Hudson. Pointing fingers isn't gonna solve a damn thing." He walked over to Woods and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back from Hudson. Woods relented with a grunt, backing off but still glowering.

The anger coursing through me hadn't subsided. If anything, it was boiling over, threatening to spill out in ways I wasn't sure I could control. I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to breathe through the frustration, but it was no use.

"We'll figure this out," I said finally, my voice tight. It was all I could manage without losing it completely. Reaching for my coffee on the table, I lifted it with more force than I intended, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Without another glance at anyone, I strode out of the room, my boots thudding against the floor in the heavy silence that followed.

No one dared to say a word, not even Hudson. As I crossed the threshold, I could still feel their eyes on me, but I didn't look back. The weight of the moment pressed down on my shoulders, but I kept moving forward, my mind racing with anger, exhaustion, and the grim reality of what lay ahead.

----

That morning's briefing weighed on my mind like a lead anchor, gnawing at me every moment of the day. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake it. Sitting in the dusty yard, I stared blankly at the horizon, replaying every word, every lingering detail.

"Why do you always worry about this shit, Bell?" Woods asked, breaking the silence. He flicked his cigarette away, watching as the ash scattered across the ground like fine powder. His tone was blunt, but not unkind. He knew better than anyone that my mind was rarely still. I didn't respond, just sat there in my own bubble of anxiety.

Mason approached, a bottle of water in hand. "What's going on here?" he asked casually, his presence lightening the mood just a touch.

I finally broke my silence. "I can't help it. Stitch has a death certificate with my name on it. How could I not worry?" I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out my own pack of cigarettes. The familiar crinkle of the white-and-blue-striped wrapping felt grounding in a way nothing else could.

Lighting the cigarette, I took a slow drag, the smoke curling lazily in the dry air. Mason dropped onto the bench beside me, swinging his legs up so they rested comfortably against the wood. "You know you're protected, right?" he said, leaning forward, his voice calm and reassuring.

I nodded, but I didn't meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on the cigarette in my hand, watching the glowing ember eat away at the paper. Mason's voice softened. "So no need to worry. You're tougher than he'll ever be, Bell. I can promise you that."

The sincerity in his words struck something deep within me, but the weight in my chest didn't lift. I nodded again, taking a deep, painful drag until the burn forced me to stop. Exhaling, I stubbed the cigarette out against the bench. "I'm sorry for being like this," I muttered, the apology tasting bitter in my mouth. "It makes me sick."

Woods scoffed lightly but said nothing, letting Mason take the lead. Mason leaned in, his tone warmer now, almost brotherly. "No need to apologize. We've got you, Bell—until the end, and don't let Hudson get under your skin. He's an ass, but that's just who he is."

Before I could respond, Mason grinned wide and playfully smacked my shoulder, hard enough to sting a little. "Plus, you've got Adler in your corner. You know how he is—he'll move heaven and earth for you if it comes to that."

Despite myself, I felt the corners of my mouth tugging upward. Mason's grin was infectious, and against all odds, I found myself smiling back. It didn't fix everything, but for the first time all day, the weight felt a little easier to carry.

_____

I grabbed the 1911 off the rack, the weight of the steel grounding me as I loaded it with slow, deliberate movements. My hands were steady, but the anger still simmered under my skin, refusing to subside. Without hesitation, I raised the pistol, took aim at the battered wooden boards in front of me, and squeezed the trigger.

The gun roared, the sharp crack of each shot reverberating off the walls of the small, enclosed training ground. I kept firing, again and again, the sound echoing in my skull until my ears rang and my head felt light, like I was floating just above reality. Each pull of the trigger felt like a tiny release, though it wasn't enough to silence the storm in my mind.

"Here," Adler's voice cut through the haze, steady but firm. I turned slightly to see him standing behind me, holding out a pair of earmuffs. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

I accepted them silently, slipping them over my ears. The world muted instantly, the oppressive roar of the gunfire replaced by a dull hum. My ears still throbbed from the earlier shots, the pain sharp and persistent, a reminder of my impulsiveness.

"It hurts like hell in here without these," Adler said, gesturing toward the small space around us. He wasn't wrong—the tight confines of the training ground amplified every sound, turning each shot into a bone-rattling blast.

I gave him a small nod in thanks and turned back to the target. The boards were peppered with fresh holes, the splintered wood bearing evidence of my frustration. I lifted the 1911 again, this time with the protection Adler provided, and let out a slow breath before firing once more.

"Be careful," Adler said, his voice low but steady.

"I know," I replied, my tone a little sharper than I intended. Setting the 1911 down on the wooden counter with a heavy thud, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Hudson still on your mind?" Adler asked, his voice soft, almost comforting. Something about his presence always had a way of grounding me, even when I didn't think I needed it. But tonight, the warmth in his tone hit harder than I expected, unraveling a knot in my chest.

"How could he not be?" I muttered, turning to lock the gun locker with a sharp click. The clash of metal against metal echoed in the quiet room. I sighed and slumped onto the bench beside Adler, leaning my head against his shoulder. "Man's sickening," I added, rubbing my temples as the weight of stress and anger morphed into a dull, throbbing headache.

Adler chuckled softly. "It's nothing to stress over, seriously. Sometimes Hudson lets his temper get the best of him. He's always been a bit of a douche, yeah, but he's a trustworthy guy underneath it all."

I let out a dry laugh, one that felt like it was more for his benefit than mine. "A trustworthy guy? Please. The man barely moves, barely makes a damn facial expression. It's like trying to get blood from a stone just to get a straight answer out of him."

Adler smirked but didn't argue, just let me vent as the two of us sat in silence for a moment. Finally, I stood, stretching my legs before making my way toward the door. Adler followed without hesitation, his boots scuffing softly against the floor.

As we stepped out into the cool night air, Adler spoke again, his voice laced with something that sounded close to regret. "I'm sorry about him. I really am. He's... complicated."

I shrugged, the tension in my shoulders easing ever so slightly. "Yeah, well, so is everything else," I said with a faint smirk. It wasn't a solution, but it felt better knowing Adler understood.

I raised a hand, cutting him off before he could say another word. "But, please," I said firmly, my voice calm but unyielding, "don't apologize for other people, Russell. Please."

He stopped in his tracks, clearly wanting to respond but holding himself back. I didn't look back at him, instead turning my attention to the house ahead as I made my way across the yard. The cool air brushed against my skin, but my mind was too preoccupied to notice. My steps slowed, though, as the sound of tires crunching against gravel drew my attention.

A sleek, shiny black sedan pulled up in front of the house, its polished exterior gleaming even in the muted light. The car was pristine—fancy as hell, with wheels that looked like they cost more than my entire wardrobe. It screamed money and power, the kind of vehicle that didn't show up unannounced unless something big was going down.

As the car came to a stop, the doors opened in near-perfect unison. Four men stepped out, one from each door, each of them tall and dressed to the nines in tailored suits that practically radiated sophistication. Their movements were precise, deliberate, and coordinated, as if they were rehearsed.

They didn't speak, just stood there for a moment, surveying the area like they were sizing up the place. Everything about them—from the way they carried themselves to the way their eyes scanned the surroundings—reeked of authority and danger. These weren't just any men. These were someone's men.

"Hudson! Your buddies are here!" Adler called out, his voice carrying across the yard. Without hesitation, Hudson dashed out of the house to meet them. But just as he passed me, he suddenly stopped, turning to face me with a serious look.

"I need to talk to you later," he said, his tone clipped.

I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, "Aye aye, dick." It wasn't the first time I'd used Frank's language, and I was starting to realize how much of his attitude had started to rub off on me.

Without waiting for Hudson to respond, I turned and walked into the house. The warmth of the kitchen hit me instantly, and I moved toward the counter where the fresh pot of coffee was still steaming. The rich aroma filled the air as I poured myself a cup, hoping the caffeine would help clear the lingering fog in my head.

Just as I was about to take a sip, Park's voice broke through my thoughts. "Love, me thinks you've had too much coffee today."

I glanced up with a grin. "Do you blame me?" I laughed, and Park joined in, her warm smile contagious.

"Absolutely not," she replied, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Would you mind pouring me a cup?"

"Of course," I said, grabbing another mug from the top cabinet. I filled it carefully, then reached for the sugar and milk, making sure it was just right.

"One sugar, splash of milk?" I asked, already knowing her order by heart.

"You know it," she answered, her voice light and friendly. I could hear the soft scrape of a chair as she settled into one of the kitchen chairs behind me.

As I handed her the cup, she gave me a grateful nod, and I took a moment to enjoy the simple comfort of the scene. Even in the midst of everything going on, these small moments with Park were grounding, a reminder that not all was chaos.

I sat down beside Park, settling into the chair next to her. The warmth from the mug was comforting, a small sense of normalcy amidst the madness of the day.

"So," Park began, her voice laced with curiosity, her smile playful, "how are you and Adler?"

I couldn't help but smile back. Park always had a way of getting to the heart of things, despite her claim that she never stuck her nose in others' business. The truth was, she just couldn't resist, and honestly, I didn't mind. She was family in a way I didn't quite have the words for.

"We're pretty good. Thank you," I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. But as soon as the hot liquid hit my tongue, I pulled the cup away, hissing under my breath. "Shit."

Park's expression softened, a quiet laugh escaping her lips as she leaned back slightly. "Be careful."

I shot her a quick, incredulous look. "Why the hell does everyone keep telling me to be careful?" I muttered, my tone half-exasperated, half-amused. It felt like every time I turned around, someone else was warning me.

Park chuckled, shaking her head. "Maybe because you're a walking disaster waiting to happen." Her teasing was light, but there was an understanding behind her words. She knew the kind of risks I took, the kind of situations I found myself in. But she also knew it was just who I was.

I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair and taking another cautious sip, this time letting it cool. "I'm starting to think you all enjoy worrying about me," I said with a wry smile. It wasn't exactly a complaint, more like a quiet acknowledgment.

-----

The whole day dragged on like an endless stretch of time, each minute feeling heavier than the last. I couldn't shake the tension building in me, and it felt like I was just waiting for something to shift. Eventually, Hudson wrapped up whatever the hell he was doing with his "buddies" and called for me to meet him in the front room.

I walked in to find him standing there, his posture stiff, looking like he was about to say something important.

"I apologise for this morning," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, though there was still that edge beneath it.

I didn't even bother to hide my annoyance. "Don't," I muttered, rolling my eyes. The arrogance in my tone wasn't lost on either of us.

Hudson raised an eyebrow but didn't back down. "I'm trying to be nice. Take it or leave it."

His stern tone hit me harder than I expected, the weight of it settling deep in my bones. I wasn't about to let him get under my skin, though.

Before I could respond, Hudson turned and walked out of the room without another word. I let out a breath, still irritated, when Adler walked in. He stopped just inside the door, his eyes giving me that disappointed look I'd come to know all too well.

"Don't look at me like that," I snapped, shrugging my shoulders. "The guy's a dick."

Adler crossed his arms, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh. "He's trying. As he said, take it or leave it. This little tussle won't make things go any faster."

I rolled my eyes again, my frustration mounting. "I know," I said with a resigned sigh, the weight of the day sinking in. This was the last thing I needed, but it seemed like the only thing I could get. "I'm just tired of dealing with him,"

"Any more information lately?" I asked, my voice low as I paused to take a small drink from my cup. The bitter taste did little to soothe the growing storm in my chest.

"Absolutely nothing," Adler replied, his tone as heavy as mine. He sat down on the couch, and without hesitation, I joined him, curling into his side, seeking the comfort of his warmth. I felt everything—upset, stressed, angry, frustrated. Maybe all of them, maybe none. It was hard to tell.

There was no point in feeling this way, I told myself. Hudson was right; I had caused this shit. I had stepped into this mess, and now it was spiralling, pulling me deeper than I ever imagined.

My head started to throb, the headache creeping in as my thoughts tangled with each other. I pressed closer into Adler, trying to block out the noise in my mind. His arms wrapped around me tightly, pulling me closer, like he could protect me from everything I couldn't control.

I felt his lips press a soft kiss to the top of my head, a quiet reassurance that, despite everything, I wasn't alone in this. I closed my eyes, letting his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing calm the chaos in my mind, even if just for a moment.

"I'm heading out to Weaver in a few days. You think you can manage for a bit?" Adler asked, his voice steady but laced with concern.

"Do I look like a child to you?" I laughed, the sound lighter than I felt, and Adler sniggered in response.

"No, not at all," he said with a smile, his eyes softening as they met mine.

"I'm going out for a drink tonight if that's okay?" I added, feeling the need for something to take the edge off.

"Of course. Just take Mason or Woods with you, though," Adler said, raising an eyebrow.

"No problem," I replied, my lips curling into a smirk. I looked up at him, finding myself lost for a moment in the depth of his eyes. Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, letting the warmth of the moment seep into me.

As I pulled away, I glanced at my watch, the ticking of the clock drawing my focus. It was getting later and later, and I couldn't stop watching the time as it passed, each second feeling like an eternity.

"Love, you're really quiet," Adler noted, his fingers lifting my chin gently to make me look at him.

I sighed, not wanting to burden him with my thoughts, but the quiet was suffocating. "I'm just not myself today. I'm fine, Ad. Don't worry."

He frowned, his concern deepening, and kissed me softly. "I can't help but worry."

"I know, but please," I whispered, pressing my forehead to his, "I'm okay."

He held me for a moment longer, his arms wrapped around me like a silent promise, but I could tell it wasn't enough to ease his worries. And though I hated seeing that concern in his eyes, I wasn't sure how to ease it, or even if I could.

------

Woods, Mason, and I sat together at a small, quiet bar, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses providing a comfortable backdrop. We'd made the decision to switch locations after the last time—just in case Beck or anyone connected to him had eyes on us. It felt safer here, tucked away in a corner, away from the chaos.

I leaned back in my seat, swirling my drink in my hand as I looked between the two of them. "Thank you for this," I said, my voice quieter than usual.

"For what?" Mason asked, his brow furrowed as he took a sip from his glass.

"For always being there," I said, my voice thick with gratitude. "You've never left me. You too, Frank. I really appreciate it."

Frank, always the one to lighten the mood, shot me a grin. "This is what family is, Bell. Get used to it." He winked at me, his expression a mix of affection and mischief.

I smiled, the warmth in my chest growing as I looked at both of them. Family, I thought. It didn't have to be blood—it was loyalty, the kind of support they'd shown me without question. I wasn't used to it, but I was damn sure I was going to hold on to it.