17. Chapter 17

I urgently need to devise a plan, and I need to do so quickly.

My stalwart husband, if we could even still be considered married, adamantly refuses to let me go along with him on this mission to save our son. I mean, I get his reluctance and I can't really blame him either. I'm not an idiot.

Yes, I know I have absolutely no business going on a military operation, and this is probably up there as the worst idea I have ever had. However, as a woman who is facing the possibility of losing the two people that she loves the most in the world, you would also be considering climbing into the trunk of his truck to sneak on the operation.

Dean and I have a long-standing promise to each other that there are no goodbyes for us , and our talk of holding on to hope earlier in the hangar was a silent agreement to reaffirm that promise, but right now, I'm not sure how I feel about that decision.

What if I never see him again?

I just can't simply sit back and leave my chances to the whims of fate, for she is a merciless bitch who seems to have a personal vendetta against me. As I chew my lip in anxious contemplation, I pace the room feverishly, searching for any possible way to join this operation without breaking laws or risking the lives of the team or Dean and DJ.

My mind races with desperate ideas as I curse under my breath. What if I go above Dean's authority and plead with the Chief of Air? Could I possibly persuade him to allow me to observe from the safety of the truck or the comms van? Is that even what it's called when a covert intelligence team operates from an unmarked vehicle during a mission?

No, there is no way he would go for it. The liability alone is too great. Even if I did manage to convince him, Dean would do everything in his power to make sure I get shipped off to that pesky safehouse he's adamant I go to.

Come on Jeyla, think!

Do I just risk it and sneak into the truck when no one is looking? What if I suffocate in there though? That is literally my greatest fear… death by suffocation. How long can a person breathe in the trunk of a car? Mere hours? A couple of days?

Ugh, Jeezus, I'm going to lose my mind. What do I do?

Dean is off somewhere on the airbase preparing for the operation and they're due to have a final brief before setting off.

A sleek, black car sits idling in front of me, ready to whisk me away to the safehouse once they depart. Dean believes I'll be joining them, but I've made up my mind, I will not get into that car. Dean will surely be furious with me, but at this point, I've lost too much and have nothing left to lose. If we somehow manage to survive this ordeal unscathed, I'll gladly lay my head on the chopping block for whatever punishment comes my way. My body is weary and my spirit exhausted from the constant battles and losses in my short time on this earth. It's time for a change, even if it means defying orders and facing the fiery fury of Dean Reyes.

I overheard enough of Dean's hurried phone conversation with one of the other officers to piece together their departure time. Eighteen hundred hours . Glancing at my watch, I see that it's now five forty-eight in the afternoon, giving me less than fifteen minutes to figure out which car I'm going to sneak into. A wave of determination swarms my body starting from my toes as I quietly slip out of Dean's bunker and make my way outside.

The air is thick and humid, making it hard to catch my breath as I survey the area for any potential escape routes. Before fully committing to my plan, I take a quick detour to empty my bladder and grab a small bottle of water from the canteen, preparing for the possibility of being trapped in a trunk for an undetermined amount of time.

You know, it's not the fear of dying that grips me—it's the thought of leaving DJ behind without a mother. The idea alone has my blood running ice cold and my feet halting mid-step. My mind screams at me with every step I force myself to take to stop being reckless and turn back for the sake of my son… but I can't do it. The fear of losing them both urges me forward until I find myself outside.

The cool late afternoon air is heavy with tension as Dean and his squadron move quietly through the airbase. From the shadows near the barracks, I watch Dean approach the squadron's vehicles, my heart pounding. The black SUV they'll be using is parked near the hangar, the trunk still open as the ground crew loads the last of the gear. Keeping to the wall, I creep closer, my pulse quickening with each step.

Dean is busy conferring with his commanding officer—what's his name—a few yards away, his voice low and serious. This is my chance. I say a silent prayer as I slip silently across the asphalt on my tiptoes, I crouch low and slide into the trunk, pressing myself against the cool metal frame. My breath comes in shallow, careful inhales as I tuck my body tightly around the equipment and pull a thick, black tarp over me for cover. The familiar scent of fuel and engine oil fills my nostrils making my stomach turn and grounding me in the reality of what I'm doing.

Well, there's no turning back now.

The minutes feel like hours as I'm lying there, nerves jangling with every sound outside. I can hear the muffled voices of the crew as they finish loading the vehicle, the soft thud of gear being stacked near my feet, narrowly missing my ankle. Finally, the trunk slams shut, plunging me into near darkness.

Oh, my fucking Gosh .

Panic grips me tight and I force myself to stay calm, so I don't hyperventilate within the first five minutes. I need to conserve my breath. Slow and steady Jeyla, you've got this.

The SUV's engine rumbles to life, vibrating through my body as the vehicle rolls out. I feel every bump and turn, trying to remain as still as possible. The voices up front are faint but familiar—Dean and his co-pilot, discussing the operation. Thank God I'm in Dean's car. The gravity in their tones makes me swallow hard. My throat suddenly feels dry like I've eaten a spoonful of cinnamon. What have I gotten myself into?

Time stretches on as the SUV speeds along the deserted roads, the glow of the airbase lights fading into the distance. My mind continues to race. How long can I stay hidden? What am I going to do once I arrive? The enormity of my decision crushes me, but the thought of being close to Dean, of being there if things go wrong, keeps my resolve firm.

How long have I been in here? I dosed off and woke up and we're still driving.

Wincing I try and shift into a more comfortable position but the heavy bags on me makes it difficult to manoeuvre. My legs are stiff from the cramped space and they're starting to go numb and prickle with pins and needles. Whatever is resting on my leg is likely cutting off the blood supply.

"Alpha One, this is Base Command, do you copy?"

"Go ahead, Base Command," I hear Dean's voice reply.

"Uh… we've got a situation. The surveillance team just flagged something from the cameras back at the base. Thought you should know." The voice over the comms is urgent, cutting through the routine checks. "You're not going to believe this, Dean, but we've got footage of your wife… Jeyla. She's in the trunk of the SUV you're in. She slipped in while we were loading up."

Oh bollocks.

I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed that I've been busted.

There's a moment of silence. "Repeat that, Command?" Dean speaks again, his voice tight with disbelief now.

"She's in the trunk, Dean. We saw her on the surveillance cameras."

Suddenly, the vehicle stops abruptly when whoever that's driving—I'm assuming Dean—slams his foot on the brakes. The gravel crunches under the screeching tires and I groan inwardly when something sharp digs into my hip.

"What do you mean she's in the trunk?!" I hear Dean's voice bark. Oh boy, the ire in his tone has the hairs on my neck standing on end. I can picture him with that deathly scowl on his stupid handsome face. Do I reveal myself? I'm starting to feel really faint from all the fumes and it's becoming suffocatingly hot in here. My body is damp with sweat. "Fuck's sake, Jeyla. You're going to be the death of me, I swear to God!" I hear a thump followed by Dean's voice utter moments later… though I could be wrong. My mind isn't in the most stable condition right now.

The sound of doors opening and boots hitting the ground echoes in the stillness.

"Fucking Christ. Open the boot and get the gear out. Hurry up!" Dean's voice snaps, his tone panicked.

I hold what little breath I have left in my lungs, my fingers clutching the edges of the tarp. The trunk latch clicks, and suddenly the night air rushes in as the door swings open letting in a gust of cool air that feels like heaven on my sweat soaked skin. I hear footsteps approaching, the faint shuffle of someone reaching for the equipment, each one being pulled off me in a hurried manner. You're busted, Jeyla. My heart thumps loudly in my ears as I brace myself for what's coming.

With a sudden jolt, the tarp is violently ripped off me, causing my body to freeze and every muscle to tense in response. My eyes snap open. My vision blurs at first until it adjusts to the streetlights outside. I'm greeted with Dean's worried expression which quickly transforms into one of pure anger when he acknowledges that I'm unharmed and conscious. The bright lights above illuminate his gorgeous face, accentuating the furrowed lines on his forehead and the tight clench and angry tick of his jaw.

I can feel his breath hot against my damp skin as he leans in closer to help lift me out of the trunk. I'm readying myself for the onslaught of his ire, but instead he sets me down so I'm sitting at the edge of the trunk and looks me over as if doing a quick wellness check to ensure I'm in fact all right. The sight of my discomfort and vulnerability only seems to heighten his fury.

Dean steps forward, grabs my face with both his large hands and shouts, "What the fuck are you doing, Jeyla?!"

My head goes faint when I draw in deep breaths to fill my deprived lungs and I can feel my stomach lurching. Shit. It's coming. Leaning over I empty out what little I have in my stomach.

I just about make out Dean cursing under his breath as his fingers move from my face to gather my hair and hold it back while I heave. "Go grab Hansley and a bottle of water now," Dean orders the other officer riding along with him who I hear utters a ‘yes Captain' before scampering off.

Once the contents of my stomach—which was mostly water—is emptied I sit upright and groan. "Captain?" Another officer hurries over to us with a large bag full of equipment that he drops on the floor beside his feet. Ah, he must be the medic of the squadron.

"She's been trapped in the trunk for over three hours, look her over. I'd like to know she's not going to drop dead on me before I fucking kill her myself." Dean instructs irritably, his eyes still on me, his gaze an equal mixture of concern and vehemence.

"Dean, I'm fine." I assure with a shake of my head when the medic holds one of those pulse readers to attach to my fingers. Dean's angry gaze becomes even more infuriated. If looks could kill, I would have dropped there and then. Not wanting to dig myself into a deeper hole of shit I hold out my finger and the medic slides the little device on my finger. My eyes follow Dean as he paces back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"All her stats are fine, Captain."

"See, I told you I was fin?—"

"Stop talking!" Dean barks, glowering at me, his green eyes spitting fire in my direction. "Have you lost your fucking mind, JJ?!" Dean shouts angrily and walks over to take hold of my face and stares into my eyes. "When are you going to stop sacrificing yourself, huh?!"

My hands lift and they curl around his wrists while I gaze up at him. "Never, all right. I wil never stop. And are you really asking me this when you're about to go off and get yourself killed to protect me, Dean?"

The veins on Dean's forehead bulge as his eyes blaze with fury. His voice booms like a thunderclap, reverberating through the air. "Jesus, give me fucking strength!" he yells at me, his anger exuding off him in waves. I've seen him angry many times before, but this is a whole new level of intensity.

His words pierce through me, reminding me of how stupid my actions were. But even in his rage, there's a hint of desperation and fear. He grabs my shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into my skin. "Of course I'm going to protect you," he grits out, his jaw throbbing. "And I will fucking die doing it if I have to. But you...you don't get to die, alright? Not like this. You have too much to live for. Our son needs you!"

Behind that blinding anger I can see the love and concern in his eyes, and it fills me with a sense of warmth and reassurance.

"And I need you, Dean!" I shout back, my hands fisting the jacket to his uniform.

Dean shakes his head and steps away from me, his hands fisting and unfisting by his sides."Do you have any idea how reckless and dangerous your little stunt was? What were you thinking? You could have suffocated to death in there if they hadn't caught you on camera. How could you be so stupid?!" Dean bellows, slamming his hand on the side of the SUV in a rage.

"I—"

"Don't say a fucking word." His voice booms with anger, cutting me off mid-sentence. "Not only did you recklessly endanger your own life, but you've also compromised the entire operation, Jeyla. What on earth possessed you to sneak onto a highly sensitive military mission?"

My heart races as I scramble to find the right words to explain myself, but Dean's intense glare and furrowed brows make me feel like my brain is about to explode. He's seething with anger, his flared nostrils threatening to release steam like a cartoon character.

"If you let me bloody speak, I'll explain," I stammer, trying to calm his fury.

"Explain what exactly?" Dean hisses, his tone dripping with venom. "What reason could possibly justify your reckless actions, Jeyla? This is not some light-hearted romcom movie or a scenario in one of your damn books, this is real life! You committed a fucking crime; you could go to jail and not even I can save you. Do you understand that?"

I shrug as I slip off the car to stretch my legs once I get the feeling back in them. "Yes, I understand. This was my choice, my risk, and I'm ready to face the consequences—whatever they might be."

Dean turns his gaze heavenward and lets out a string of colourful curses. "Fucking hell! I don't think you're getting the gravity of the situation here, Jeyla," Dean asserts, moving over to me again. "I told you that you can't come with me. Why don't you ever just listen for fuck's sake?"

"Why? Because I love you, you idiot!" I shout back. "Because I can't stand the thought of something happening to you or DJ and not being there. You can't look me in the eyes and tell me you're going off to fucking die and expect me to just shrug and wave you off. Of course, I'm going to be here. It's where I belong, by your side, always, and if the roles were reversed you would do the same. And as long as I'm here you'll have no choice but to stay alive to protect me." I tell him all in one breath and he stares back at me, the anger in his eyes simmering a little. "Can you look me in the eyes right now and tell me you wouldn't have done the same for me?"

"Yes, I would, but this situation is entirely different, Jeyla," Dean says, his voice taut with frustration. "You're a civilian, and while I know you have the best intentions, your being here only adds to the danger—for both of us and for DJ. If you had gone to the safehouse as I instructed, I'd have a better shot at getting through this and rescuing our son. But with you here, I'm forced to split my focus between keeping you safe and completing my mission. You're not helping the situation—you're making it more dangerous. I need to concentrate on what I have to do, and I can't do that with you here. As soon as we reach the mission base, I'm arranging for you to go back home."

His words cut deep, and I can feel the sting of tears welling up, but I force myself to stand my ground. "No, Dean. We've come this far together. I'll stay at the base, but I'm not going home."

"Jeyla, this isn't up for debate," he snaps, his patience fraying at the edges. "You're going home. It's the safest place for you."

"Who's debating?" I fire back, my voice rising with defiance. "I'm not going. End of discussion."

"Yes, you are!" Dean's voice sharpens as he points to the line of SUVs idling nearby, the men inside waiting for his orders. "This isn't just about us, Jeyla. Look at those men. They're my responsibility. Just like me, they have wives, girlfriends, and families counting on me to bring them back safely. Every single one of them. I can't afford to be distracted by worrying about you being in harm's way. I won't put you, DJ, or any of them at risk. Do you understand?"

I take a step forward, my heart pounding with a mix of anger and fear, scowling up at him. "And what about your family, Dean? What about the wife you left shattered the last time you ran off on a mission? What about your son who needs his father?"

Dean's face tightens, the lines around his eyes deepening as he steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming. He reaches out, cupping my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. His touch is warm but firm, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that have started to spill over.

"Listen to me," he says, his voice low but intense, his eyes searching mine. "We won't have a son if we keep wasting time like this. Every second we argue is a second lost in finding DJ. We have a narrow window to get him back, and it's closing fast. I need to know that you're safe so I can do what needs to be done. I can't afford to lose focus; not now, not with so much at stake."

Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to break eye contact, searching his face for any sign of doubt, any crack in his resolve. "Dean, I can't just sit back and do nothing," I whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of my fear and desperation. "I need to be here with you. I need to know what's happening. I can't bear the thought of being miles away, not knowing if you're okay, not knowing if DJ is safe."

His expression softens, and for a moment, I see the pain in his eyes, the struggle between his duty and his love for me. He leans his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin as he closes his eyes, as if trying to gather his strength.

"I get it," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "I get why you did this. But you have to trust me, Jeyla. You have to trust that I'm doing everything in my power to bring our son back. I need you to be safe so I can focus on getting DJ home. Please, just let me do my job."

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against my cheeks, the steady beat of his heart as he pulls me closer. "Okay," I whisper, my voice cracking with the weight of my emotions. "I'll stay out of your way, but please don't send me away, let me stay close by so I know what's happening."

Dean lets out a breath he seems to have been holding, his hands tightening slightly on my face before he pulls back just enough to look at me again. "All right. I'll see what I can do," he says softly, his eyes full of a mixture of relief and regret. "I promise, I'll bring him back and do everything possible to come back to you. But right now, we need to move and arrange for you to be somewhere safe."

I nod, swallowing hard as I blink back the tears. As he steps back, his hands dropping to his sides, I can see the shift in him; the way his focus sharpens as he turns back to the task at hand. The soldier in him takes over, pushing aside the husband and father, and I can't help but feel a pang of fear at the thought of the threat that lies ahead.

As we start walking towards the SUVs, I fall into step beside him, my heart heavy with the knowledge that this might be the last time I see him before he disappears into the unknown. But I push that thought aside, holding onto the hope that he'll come back to me, that we'll find DJ, that our family will be whole again.

"Just come back to me," I whisper, more to myself than to him, but he hears it anyway. He glances at me, his expression softening for just a moment before the mask of determination slips back into place. He opens the door to the SUV and gestures for me to get in.

"I will," he says simply, and for a moment, I believe him.