CHAPTER 149

Three weeks later, I thought we'd finally found our balance. The foundation was taking shape - Lucas had secured initial funding through his legitimate businesses, Harry was designing security protocols for our safe houses, and Jax was coordinating with international law enforcement agencies who wanted to partner with us.
I was supposed to be handling the easy stuff - paperwork, strategic planning, interviews with potential staff members. Doctor's orders were clear: no field work, no high-stress situations, nothing that could jeopardize the pregnancy.
Which made the emergency call from Agent Martinez in Mexico City particularly problematic.
"We have a situation," she said without preamble when I answered the encrypted phone. "Forty-three children, youngest is eight years old, being held in a compound outside Tijuana. They're scheduled for transport to buyers in Los Angeles tomorrow night."
I looked around our temporary headquarters - a converted warehouse in Bangkok where we'd been setting up operations - and felt the familiar cold rage building in my chest. "Local authorities?"
"Compromised. Half the police force is on the traffickers' payroll, and the other half is too scared to act. We have maybe eighteen hours before those kids disappear forever."
"What about Mexican federal forces?"
"Red tape and jurisdictional issues. By the time they get authorization, it'll be too late."
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of forty-three innocent lives pressing against my consciousness. Across the room, Harry was reviewing architectural plans for our new safe house, while Jax coordinated with Interpol about information sharing protocols. Lucas was on a call with our lawyers about international tax implications.
All of them working toward our shared vision of a legitimate, sustainable organization that could save lives without destroying our family in the process.
"I can't authorize an unsanctioned cross-border operation," I said finally. "Not anymore. We have procedures now, protocols..."
"Skylar," Agent Martinez's voice was urgent. "One of the girls is American. Rebecca Chen, age twelve, kidnapped from a San Diego mall three weeks ago. Her parents are friends of mine. They're dying a little more each day she's missing."
I pressed my hand against my stomach, where our own child was growing safely protected while forty-three others faced horrors I couldn't bear to imagine.
"Send me everything you have," I said. "Intelligence, building schematics, guard rotations, escape routes. I'll see what we can do."
"Thank you. I'll forward the files now."
I hung up and stared at the phone, knowing I was about to break the first rule we'd established for our new life: no unilateral decisions. But before I could lose my nerve, I walked over to where the guys were working.
"We have a problem," I said.
They looked up from their respective tasks, immediately reading the tension in my voice. Over the past few weeks, they'd learned to recognize the difference between normal pregnancy stress and the specific kind of agitation that meant innocent people were in danger.
"What kind of problem?" Lucas asked, closing his laptop.
I explained Martinez's call, watching their faces as the implications sank in. Forty-three children, including an American girl, being held for sale across an international border that our new foundation had no authority to cross.
"It's not our jurisdiction," Jax said when I finished. "We're not federal agents anymore, we're private citizens running a nonprofit organization."
"Tell that to Rebecca Chen's parents."
"Skylar," Harry's voice was gentle but firm. "We agreed. No more cowboy operations, no more risking everything on impulse. We have a baby to think about now."
"We have forty-three babies to think about. Kids who are going to be sold to monsters if we don't act."
"And what about our baby?" Lucas asked. "What about the life we're trying to build together? Are you willing to throw all of that away for another rescue mission?"
The question hit harder than I'd expected. Because the truth was, part of me was already planning the operation in my head. Entry points, extraction routes, the minimum force necessary to overwhelm the guards and get the children to safety.
"I'm not talking about throwing anything away," I said. "I'm talking about doing what we do best while being smart about it."
"By 'being smart,' you mean what exactly?" Harry asked.
"I mean I coordinate from here while you three handle the actual extraction. Remote oversight, real-time intelligence, backup planning if things go wrong."
"Absolutely not," all three of them said simultaneously.
"Why not? It keeps me safe while still getting those kids out."
"Because your definition of 'coordination' usually involves you being in the middle of the action within twenty minutes," Jax said. "Because you can't stand to watch from the sidelines when people need help."
"Because this is exactly the kind of situation your father would have used to manipulate you," Lucas added. "Innocent children in immediate danger, no time for proper planning, just enough emotional pressure to make you do something stupid."
I wanted to argue, to point out that this was different, that Martinez was legitimate and the threat was real. But looking at their faces, I could see they were right about one thing - I couldn't stand the thought of sitting safely in Bangkok while children suffered in Mexico.
My phone buzzed with the intelligence files Martinez had promised. Crime scene photos, building layouts, guard schedules, and most devastating of all, pictures of the children. Forty-three young faces, some defiant, some terrified, all depending on adults to save them.
Including Rebecca Chen, a twelve-year-old girl with braided hair and eyes that reminded me painfully of my own childhood photographs.
"Look at them," I said, showing the photos to the guys. "Look at their faces and tell me we can walk away."
Harry studied the images, his expression growing darker with each picture. Jax was already examining the building schematics, his tactical mind automatically calculating approach vectors and extraction routes. Lucas was reviewing the intelligence reports, cross-referencing guard positions with local police corruption data.
They were doing exactly what I'd expected them to do - what we all did when confronted with innocent people in danger. They were planning a rescue operation despite every rational reason to stay out of it.
"Eighteen hours," Lucas said finally. "That's not enough time to coordinate with legitimate authorities, but it's enough time to plan a surgical strike if we move immediately."
"Lucas," Harry warned.
"I'm not saying we should do it. I'm saying we could do it. Three-man team, in and out in forty minutes, minimal exposure to local authorities."
"And me?" I asked.
"You stay here, coordinate intelligence, and monitor communications. If something goes wrong, you're our lifeline to extraction resources."
It was exactly what I'd proposed, but hearing him say it made me realize how much I hated the idea of being left behind. Not because I didn't trust them to handle the mission, but because my every instinct screamed that families should face danger together.
"What if something goes wrong?" I asked quietly. "What if you need backup, or medical support, or just another gun in the fight?"
"Then we improvise," Harry said. "Like we always do. But our child deserves to have at least one parent who doesn't take unnecessary risks."
"All of us take risks every time we do this work. The question is whether we're willing to let children suffer because we're afraid."
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken fears and competing loyalties. They wanted to save those kids as much as I did, but they also wanted to protect the family we were building.
And I realized that this moment would define everything that came after - whether we could balance our mission with our love, or whether one would inevitably destroy the other.
"Time's running out," I said softly. "Whatever we're going to do, we need to decide now."
But as I watched them struggle with the same impossible choice I'd been wrestling with since Martinez's call, I wondered if some decisions were too big for love to survive.
Even ours.