She knew.

She didn't need me to explain it, didn't need the dramatic villain monologue or a PowerPoint presentation titled Why My Life Keeps Exploding.

She knew exactly why this had happened. Why five bullets had torn through me in a concrete garage like I was a plot device. Why her mother stood beside her shaking like a glass set too close to the edge of a table and not in a morgue.

Margaret was trembling. Not the dramatic kind you see in movies. The quiet, constant kind. Micro-quakes running through her frame, hands locked around Charlotte's arm like that arm was load-bearing architecture.

She'd barely finished healing from Miami. From the kidnapping. From weeks of terror and therapy and pretending she was fine when she very much was not. She'd watched me almost die once already saving her.

And now the universe had apparently decided to run the sequel.

Too much. Anyone with eyes could see it. The cracks were there, spiderwebbing through her expression, stress fractures threatening full structural collapse. One more shove and she was going to shatter.

I held Charlotte's gaze and softened my expression. Not your fault. None of this is on you. I needed her to hear it without words, because words felt too fragile for what she was carrying.

"I need you to help me," I said, addressing everyone, but my eyes never left her. "I need you to stay at the estate. Stay behind those walls where nothing can touch you."

"Peter—" Her voice broke immediately. Like glass tapping stone.

"Everything's going to be okay," I said, gentle but firm, the tone you use when you're lying for someone's own good. "I promise. This will be over soon. Just… don't worry. Let me handle it."

She nodded, tears pooling but not falling yet. Holding it together through sheer force of will.

I shifted my gaze just enough to catch Madison, then back to Margaret. A silent message passed. Take care of her. Don't let her fold.

Madison got it instantly. She moved to Margaret's other side, slipped an arm around her waist, became a human support beam as Margaret's knees flirted with the idea of giving up entirely.

"I know you want to come to the hospital," I continued. "I know you want to see me with your own eyes, poke me, confirm I'm not a very convincing ghost. But right now, the safest place for all of you is exactly where you are. Please. Trust me on this."

Madison's jaw tightened like she wanted to argue, fight me, kidnap the hospital if necessary. Then she nodded. Sharp. Controlled.

"How long?" she asked.

"Days. Maybe a week."

Priya scrubbed at her face, smearing makeup that had cost more than most people's rent. "And then what?"

"Then I come home," I said. "And this ends."

I shifted my focus to the back of the room, where Soo-Jin stood like a shadow with opinions. Calm. Alert. Already three steps ahead. ARIA hummed in my skull, waiting.

"ARIA. Soo-Jin." My tone changed. No softness now. This was steel. "Activate full security protocols. And release "THEM"."

Soo-Jin's eyes flickered once. Understanding clicked. She nodded and turned on her heel, already moving, already executing, without asking a single clarifying question.

That alone should've terrified them.

The women exchanged looks. Confused. Uneasy. Madison frowned. "Release what?"

"You'll be safe," I said, deliberately vague. "That's all that matters. Trust me."

Luna shifted uncomfortably but stayed quiet. Smart girl.

I could see the questions stacking up behind their eyes. What did I just authorize. Where was Soo-Jin going. What exactly was about to be unleashed in their defense.

They didn't ask.

Maybe they were exhausted. Maybe they trusted me. Or maybe something in my voice made it very clear this was not a Q&A session and the answers would not be comforting.

"I'll be home soon," I said, looking at each face in turn. "A few days to recover. Make sure the doctors aren't hallucinating my vitals. Then I'm back. Until then, ARIA and Soo-Jin are in charge. Listen to them. Follow protocols. Stay alive."

Linda wiped her eyes and nodded. "We'll be here."

"We love you," Madison said. Her voice was steady now, even with tears still clinging to her lashes. "All of us. Come home safe."

"I will."

"I'll call tomorrow," I added. "Give you an update. Until then—"

"We know," Jasmine cut in. "Stay inside. Follow orders. Let the spooky mystery defenses do their thing. Message received."

I smiled despite the pain. "Good."

The hologram flickered as I started to disconnect, but Linda's voice stopped me.

"Peter?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

The irony punched me straight in the soul. I laughed. Sharp. Bitter. Real. "Thanks, Mom. Best birthday ever."

"Worst birthday ever," she corrected gently.

"Also, accurate."

I disconnected.

The hologram collapsed, and the room shrank back into quiet beeping machines and antiseptic calm, like nothing world-ending had just happened.

ARIA's voice slid in, softer now. "They're settling down. Soo-Jin is executing the security upgrades. Estate lockdown remains in effect. And I am bringing THEM."

"Good."

"For what it's worth, Peter," she added, "you handled that well. They needed to see you alive."

"They needed to know I wasn't bleeding out alone on a hospital mattress."

"Which you are not," ARIA replied. "You are recovering in a private medical suite with excellent care and highly illegal healing capabilities."

"Your bedside manner still sucks."

"I am a digital intelligence simultaneously monitoring your vitals, controlling a fortified estate, and managing thirty-two emotionally unstable high-profile individuals. My bedside manner is exemplary."

I closed my eyes, exhaustion finally dragging me under now that the adrenaline was fading.

"How long until everything's active?"

"Within the hour. Nothing enters. Nothing exits without authorization."

"And Dmitri?"

"We know where he is. Volkov too." Her tone was flat. Clinical. "Locating them is not the issue. The issue is you are currently perforated. Once you're healed enough to move, we proceed. Simple."

"How long?"

"Three days minimum before you can walk without tearing stitches," ARIA said. "Five before you can actually fight. But Peter—you don't need to rush. Ava's already handling it."

That stopped me.

"Ava's handling what?"

"She boarded a plane two hours ago. Her bosses authorized immediate intervention. Not just for Dmitri, though he's priority one. But because Quantum Tech and Charlotte are considered high-value assets. The Agency isn't taking chances."

I let out a laugh that immediately punished my chest for the audacity. Worth it.

"So," I wheezed, "I'm officially a line item on a balance sheet."

"Yes," ARIA said smoothly. "You are an investment. A very expensive one."

"They're protecting their stock portfolio."

"Correct. They've seen what you can deliver. The AI. The quantum neural buds. That was two months after the deal, Peter, and it's already altered their operational capacity." There was something almost amused in her tone now.

"They're extrapolating. One year. Ten years. Turns out providing technology decades ahead of the global curve makes you extremely popular with intelligence agencies. Who could've predicted that."

I closed my eyes, smirk tugging weakly at my mouth. "Shocking. Truly. Governments loving power."

"So, Ava is cleaning up the mess," I said.

"With full CIA resources. Dmitri and Volkov will not survive the week."

That… helped. More than I wanted to admit.

"Good," I muttered.

Silence stretched for a moment, the kind hospitals specialize in. Then ARIA spoke again, softer. Less command center. More… guardian.

"Rest, Peter. Your body is healing, but it requires time. The THEM are active. The estate is secure. Ava is coordinating with intelligence assets. You have done everything you can for now."

"I'm not tired."

"Your heart rate disagrees," she replied flatly. "Sleep. That's an order from your digital goddess."

I almost smiled. Almost.

I wanted to argue. Wanted to stay awake, keep running scenarios, keep planning the aftermath, keep sharpening the knives in my head.

But my body mutinied. The exhaustion rolled in like a blackout curtain, heavy and inevitable, dragging me under whether I consented or not.

The last thing I heard before unconsciousness claimed me was ARIA's voice, steady and certain, like a hand on my shoulder.

"They're safe, Peter. You kept them safe. Now rest."

And surrounded by beeping machines, antiseptic air, and the phantom ache of five bullets that really should've ended my story—

I slept.

But even then, my mind didn't rest.

I dreamed of hunting.

Of tracking Dmitri through cities and shadows.

Of the moment he realized he'd miscalculated.

Soon.

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