CHAPTER 199

LUCAS'S POV
The garden party for Skylar's sixtieth birthday felt like a celebration of everything we'd built together over the past four decades - three generations of our chosen family gathered in the backyard of the Vermont house that had become our sanctuary from the world. But as I watched five-year-old Grace help her grandmother blow out candles while Addison coordinated the chaos with military precision, I couldn't shake the feeling that this perfect moment was about to be interrupted by reality.
"Uncle Lucas," Grace called, running toward me with the boundless energy that only children possessed. "Grandma Skylar says you're the one who teaches people about money. Can you teach me?"
"What kind of money lessons are you interested in?" I asked, lifting her onto my shoulders so she could survey the party from a better vantage point.
"The kind that helps save children who are trapped by bad people."
Even at five, Grace had absorbed more about our family's work than most adults ever understood. It was both impressive and concerning, this early awareness of the world's darker realities.
"That's a very grown-up goal for someone who just learned to tie her shoes," I said gently.
"Mama says I should start thinking about grown-up things now so I'll be ready when I actually grow up."
Through the crowd of foundation staff, extended family, and close friends, I could see Addison watching her daughter with the same mixture of pride and concern that had characterized our parenting for thirty-five years. How do you prepare a child for a dangerous world without stealing their innocence?
"There's something I need to tell you," Harry said, appearing beside me with the serious expression that meant our peaceful afternoon was about to become complicated.
"What kind of something?"
"The kind that suggests we might not be as retired as we thought."
He handed me his phone, showing a news alert that made my blood run cold. A coordinated attack on three trafficking survivor rehabilitation centers across two countries had left seventeen people dead and dozens of children missing.
"When?" I asked, though I already knew the answer would be recent enough to matter.
"Six hours ago. Someone waited until we were all together, celebrating and distracted, before hitting targets they knew we'd feel responsible for protecting."
"Any idea who?"
"Claire's signature all over it. Professional execution, symbolic timing, maximum psychological impact on our family specifically."
I felt Grace's small hands tighten in my hair as she sensed the change in adult mood around her, the way children always did when danger entered their environment.
"Is someone in trouble?" she asked with the directness that characterized all our family's children.
"Some children need help," I said carefully. "And the adults are trying to figure out the best way to help them."
"Are you going to save them?"
It was exactly the question I'd been dreading, because the honest answer was yes - despite our retirement, despite our commitment to being present grandparents, despite every rational reason to let other people handle this crisis.
"We're going to try," I said.
Across the garden, I could see Skylar reading the same news alert on Elena's phone, her body language shifting from grandmother-at-a-birthday-party to director-of-international-anti-trafficking-operations in real time.
"Family meeting," she called, her voice carrying the authority that had commanded respect in UN assembly halls and federal briefing rooms. "Ten minutes."
"What about the party?" Liam asked, gesturing at the fifty guests who were still eating cake and celebrating.
"The party continues. Our conversation happens privately."
As we gathered in the house's secure office - a room designed for exactly these kinds of emergency discussions - I realized that retirement had been an illusion. You don't just stop being the people who save trafficking victims because you decide it's time to focus on family.
"Seventeen confirmed dead," Skylar said without preamble, pulling up detailed intelligence reports on the wall-mounted screens. "Thirty-four children missing, including eight who were testifying in upcoming trials against major trafficking networks."
"Coordinated elimination of witnesses," Harry observed grimly. "Someone's making sure key trials collapse due to lack of testimony."
"And sending us a message about what happens when we step back from direct involvement," Jax added.
Elena, now thirty-six and running her own trauma counseling organization, studied the tactical reports with professional detachment. "The timing isn't coincidental. Someone's been monitoring our family events, waiting for maximum symbolic impact."
"Claire," Addison said from her position near the door, where she was keeping watch on the party outside. "This has her psychological warfare signature all over it."
"Agreed. But Claire doesn't operate alone anymore. Intelligence suggests she's coordinating with multiple trafficking networks that see our retirement as an opportunity to reclaim territory."
Through the office window, I could see Grace playing with other children in the garden, completely unaware that the adults were discussing whether to return to the kind of work that could leave her orphaned.
"Options?" I asked, though I already knew what Skylar was thinking.
"We go back to work. All of us. One final operation to eliminate the threats and send a message that attacking rehabilitation centers has consequences."
"Define 'all of us,'" Jax said carefully.
"The four of us, plus anyone from the next generation who chooses to participate."
"Absolutely not," Addison said immediately. "You're not dragging our children into active operations."
"I'm not dragging anyone anywhere. I'm saying that if Liam and Elena want to use their skills to save those thirty-four missing children, I won't stop them because of overprotective instincts."
"And if something happens to you? If we lose parents and grandparents in the same operation?"
"Then Grace grows up knowing that her family died fighting for something meaningful instead of hiding while innocent children suffered."
The room fell silent except for the distant sounds of celebration from the garden party. Through the walls, I could hear Grace's laughter as she played games with cousins and family friends who had no idea that this might be her last normal day for a very long time.
"There's something else," Elena said quietly. "Something none of you know about yet."
"What?"
"I've been working with federal agents to track Claire's network for the past six months. We know where she is, how she's operating, and what her ultimate targets are."
"And you didn't tell us because?"
"Because I was hoping to handle it through official channels without pulling the family back into direct action."
"How's that working out?" Harry asked dryly.
"Today's attacks made it clear that official channels aren't fast enough. Claire's moving to eliminate every person and organization connected to our family's work."
Skylar moved to the window, looking out at the peaceful scene in our garden. "How long do we have before the next attack?"
"Based on her pattern? Maybe a week. Probably less."
"Then we have a week to plan the operation that either ends this permanently or gets us all killed trying."
As we began discussing logistics and tactical requirements, I caught sight of Grace through the window, now helping her mother clean up party decorations with the same methodical precision that characterized everything our family did.
"There's one more thing to consider," I said. "If we do this - if we go back to active operations - there's no guarantee we'll be able to retire again. Some wars don't end until everyone involved is dead."
"Then we make sure we're the ones left standing," Skylar said with the cold certainty that had sustained us through four decades of impossible choices.
But watching Grace wave at us through the window, completely trusting that the adults in her life would keep her safe, I wondered if we were about to break the most important promise we'd ever made.
The promise that love could create sanctuary even in a dangerous world.
Or if some kinds of love required you to leave sanctuary behind and walk back into the fire.