Page 25 of Falcon’s Forever

Sarah reaches for a cookie. "Yesterday they'd have just gone after it, wouldn't they."

"Depends which idiot saw it first," Frankie says.

"Accurate," I say, and it earns a smile out of me I don't fight.

"Falcon would," Sarah adds, and the table goes quiet the way it does whenever his name lands in a room I'm sitting in, it’s like the universe has decided this is going to be about him whether I want it to be or not.

I pick up my tea. "Falcon's learning."

Frankie looks at me. I regret saying it out loud immediately, and let it go, because there's a lockdown plan that still has holes in it and this isn't the time for anyone in this kitchen to start reading into my voice.

Sarah and Emily start talking through what happens if this turns into a real lockdown, whether everyone should be downstairs, and which bedrooms feel safer than others. Maya suggests the living room because it's got two exits. Frankie points out it's also got the biggest windows. I start writing things down without anyone telling me to, because suddenly I can see the hole in our own plan. It assumes everyone experiences safety the same way. We don't.

“Wait.” I hold up a hand before anyone can move on. “If this becomes an actual lockdown, where do we go?”

Maya glances toward the hallway. “The living room?”

“Why?” I ask.

Her forehead creases. “That’s where we went last time.”

“Exactly,” I tell her. “We went there because somebody told us to.”

Understanding settles across Frankie’s face. “You want choices.”

"I want zones. Some women feel safer together, some panic in groups. Some need to see an exit, some need a room with no windows." I turn the notebook around and let them add to it. Medical access without a crowd blocking Knox if someone needs him. A way to request a female driver. Documents kept somewhere secure but reachable. The list grows and I like that it does, because for years somebody else decided everything for me, what I ate, when I slept, whether I was allowed to speak, and choice feels almost embarrassingly small until you've lived without it. Then it becomes everything.

The phone buzzes.

Security Phone:

SUV has left immediate area. Plates obscured. Condor reviewing road cameras. Lockdown remains until Church confirms clear. Next update in fifteen minutes.

Maya releases a long breath and lowers the phone. “They’re gone.”

“For now,” I remind her.

Emily’s face remains tense as she looks toward the window. “That doesn’t mean they won’t come back.”

“No,” I agree quietly. “It doesn’t.”

Emily looks at me, waiting for reassurance. I let the silence sit between us instead of filling it with a promise I can’t keep. After a moment, her shoulders relax slightly.

“Okay,” she says with a small nod.

There’s no false comfort required. Just the truth, and she accepts it better than a lie would have landed.

Frankie reaches into the bag for another cookie. “Can I ask something that has nothing to do with suspicious vehicles?”

“No,” I answer immediately.

She pauses with the cookie halfway to her mouth. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I know you,” I tell her.

“I guess that’s fair.” Frankie bites the cookie in half, chews slowly, then looks directly at me. “How did it feel, talking to Falcon?”

I close my eyes and wish for patience.