Page 100 of Vows of Ruin

Margot rubs at her temple. “Ugh this fucking relay...”

“Keep chasing, please Margot.” I say.

My voice sounds calmer than I feel. Max’s hand finds my thigh under the table and gives it a small squeeze. A small touch, a quiet anchor. I look at the clock again. Fifty-eight minutes. And counting.

The conversation shifts as the minutes fall away. Elias pulls up the map on the main screen, zooming in on the cluster of coordinates near my childhood neighborhood. Margot paces now, tablet in hand, talking to herself about signal interference and dead zones. Riot points out roads we could take if this turns into an extraction.

I stand at the edge of the table and force myself to think. Not panic. Think. “When that clock hits zero, we roll,” I say. “Riot, you drive point. Margot and Elias, you handle comms. We go in quiet. We get them out.”

They all nod. No one argues. That’s what I love about this family. When things break, they move. The door opens. Wrecker steps back in, my phone clutched in his hand. The look on his face stops me before he says a word. He doesn't have to say it. I already know. I felt it the second the phone rang, the quiet drop in my stomach that means something just got more complicated.

“She’s back,” I say.

Wreckers nods. “She’s at the bus station. She left Maura’s house late last night.”

“How?” The word comes out sharper than I mean it to. “How did she even—where’d she get the money?”

He shakes his head. “No clue. Said she saved it. Told me she missed everyone.”

“Does Maura know?”

He’s already calling, phone to his ear. “She’s about to.”

He paces while the line rings, then his tone softens when she answers, slipping effortlessly into Italian. Fluid and rhythmic. A language that sounds like home even when it’s full of worry. I only catch pieces. Daisy’s name. Bus station. Safe. The way his voice dips makes my chest tighten. Maura’s voice carries faintly through the receiver, urgent and upset, before Wrecker murmurs something gentle, something meant to calm her. When he ends the call, his expression says enough.

“She’s worried sick,” he says, slipping the phone into his pocket. “But Daisy’s fine. She’s still at the station. Maura’s going to keep her on the phone until we get there.”

Max exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Then he looks at me. “Wreck and you go get her.”

I blink. “Wait—what?”

“I’ll take Elias, Riot, and Margot if the clock runs out,” he says, voice steady but firm. “You handle Daisy.”

The words hit like a punch to the ribs. “Max—”

He steps in before I can finish, his hands framing my face, rough palms warm against my skin. “Sparrow,” he says softly.

It’s the way he says it. The name that’s both armor and plea. “You can’t be in two places at once,” he says. “Daisy came back to you. Liam gave you three hours. We still have time.”

I shake my head, but not because he’s wrong. Because he’s right. His forehead drops to mine, breath steady against my mouth. “Let me hold this line until then.”

My eyes burn. I hate that. I hate all of it. “Bring him home to us,” I whisper.

“I will,” he says. “If I have to go in after him, I will. But right now, you need to go get Daisy.”

He kisses me then. Hard, but sweet. A promise pressed into my mouth. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes my cheek. “Text me the second you have her.”

I swallow hard and nod. “You do the same.”

His crooked grin appears, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Always.”

Wrecker grabs his jacket and keys without another word. I follow him toward the door. Behind me, the war room keeps moving. Screens flashing, voices low. Plans forming around the clock Liam asked me to trust.

At the threshold, I stop and glance back at Max. I turn away before I change my mind. The door shuts behind us, the sound echoing through the hall. I stand there for half a breath, staring at nothing. Then I whisper to the empty air, “Come home to me, both of you.”

The bus station smells like diesel, cheap coffee, and bad decisions. People move like ghosts through the narrow lanes, heads down, bags clutched tight, the hum of the engines and departure announcements filling the air. Wrecker spots her fist.

“Over there,” he says quietly, nodding toward a bench near the far wall.