Cait woke calling her daughter’s name, terrified by the absence of Leyla’s weight in her arms. It took her a second to realize that sometime during the night she had been moved to a musty-smelling bed in a windowless cubicle. Light streamed in from the corridor. Still in her clothes from the night before—the longest night of her life—she shot from the bed, tangled in the sheets, and broke free to race for the door.

The corridor showed her she was still in the warehouse, the bedroom a kind of sleeping cube—a modular piece amongst a row of similar cubes.

“Leyla!” she called, running down the corridor, glancing into each room she passed.

“Right here, Momma,” Jordan said from ahead.

She entered a kitchen to find him sitting at a small table, holding Leyla cradled in one arm while he gave her a bottle. Cheerios were spread across the table and scattered on the floor, but Cait presumed some had made it into the baby’s mouth. A wave of relief went through her and she exhaled, smiling at the sight of the strong, quiet soldier so comfortable with her baby in his arms.

“Sorry I panicked,” she said, going to them. Leyla’s eyes locked on her but the baby didn’t reach for her, which surprised, delighted, and saddened her all at once. Jordan’s warmth and the fresh bottle were apparently all Leyla needed.

“She’s all right,” Jordan assured her. “We thought we’d let you sleep. Now that you’re up, though, there’s coffee.”

Cait looked around, saw the coffeepot, and felt doubly grateful.

“What time is it, and where did you get this stuff?” she asked as she went to pour herself a cup.

Jordan glanced at her. “Not me. I woke up and Lynch was gone. Maybe fifteen minutes later he waltzes in with milk, OJ, and a box of Cheerios. He got some kind of baby oatmeal and some applesauce, too. I found a can of coffee in the cabinet. No idea how long it’s been there, but it tastes all right.”

Cait didn’t bother with sugar or milk, just took a sip of the black coffee and relished its bite.

“Want me to take her now?” she asked as she returned to the table.

“No, just enjoy your coffee. Wake up first. The little princess and I are getting to know each other better.”

Cait smiled and sat down. “Thanks. So, speaking of Lynch, where is the crazy fuck?”

Jordan must have heard the brittle fury in her voice, and he looked at her so kindly that it nearly made her cry. But she had done enough crying last night to last the rest of her life. She had been a soldier. She had seen friends and enemies and innocents die, had watched people bleed out, had watched life seeping from a young boy’s eyes, had seen a father blow himself to pieces. And she had killed. Her daughter had needed her to leave all that behind, to open her heart again after working so hard to shield it. But now Leyla needed the soldier as much as she needed the mother, so for the first time, Cait would have to learn how to be both.

“He’s watching all those news channels. He hasn’t said much. I think he’s embarrassed.”

“That’s something, at least. If he’s got enough brains to be embarrassed, it means he’s not as insane as I feared.”

“Are you all right?” Jordan asked.

The moment the words were out of his mouth they both realized how ridiculous the question was, and Cait snickered.

“Not even close. Lynch saved my life last night, probably more than once. But the guy is delusional. What ever organization used to exist is gone. Nobody’s riding to the rescue. He’s got his computer and his TVs and his list of baby-killers, but I don’t know what any of that’s going to do to keep us alive.”

Leyla pushed the bottle away. Jordan tried to get her to take it again but she wouldn’t. Cait took a long sip of coffee and then set down the cup and reached for her daughter.

“Come to Mommy, sweetie,” she said.

Hoisting Leyla to her shoulder, she patted the baby’s back until she was rewarded with a tiny burp. She closed her eyes and inhaled Leyla’s smell, kissed her face and her neck, then just held her until the baby started to squirm. Then she sat Leyla on her knee and began to gently bounce her, eliciting a gurgling laugh.

She could hide her for a time, but it would be no life, always waiting for the moment when the doors would be broken down and the gunfight would begin again. They had been very fortunate last night, but she had no doubt that they would not get that lucky again.

“Poor Ronnie,” she said with a sigh.

Jordan nodded sadly. “Don’t beat yourself up, Sarge. I loved Ronnie, too. He was one of my best friends. But he should’ve talked to you first. What he did was stupid, and he knew it, or he would have told me about it before we got to you.”

Cait wrapped her arms around Leyla and rocked her back and forth. “I’m still going to miss him.”

“You and me both. But we can hurt over him dying after we figure out how to keep ourselves alive.”

She picked up the bottle. “You’re a good friend.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sarge.”

She smiled as Leyla reached for the bottle, and guided it to her mouth. “You know I hate it when you call me that?”

“I’m aware,” he replied, one corner of his mouth lifting in an amused grin.

Cait shook her head, forcing her smile away. “You haven’t called me ‘Sarge’ for a really long time.”

“We were home,” Jordan said, his own smile slipping. “Now we’re back at war.”

Cait couldn’t argue. It just seemed to be taking her longer to adjust to their new reality than it had taken Jordan.

“You’re right,” she said. “And it’s time to start fighting back. I’m going to need Lynch’s computer. And I’m guessing he’s got a whole lot of guns stashed around here somewhere. We’re going to need those, too.”

Jordan leaned toward her, brow furrowed, all seriousness now. “You saying you have a plan?”

Cait thought about that. What few traces of lightness she had mustered in her heart vanished.

“Not a good one. This thing is so big, there’s no way to know who is and isn’t a part of it. We could join Lynch’s hunt, but my face has gotta be on every TV and computer screen in the United States by now. My life is over. And there’s only one way I can think of to get it back and make Leyla safe.”

Jordan leaned forward and gave the baby a little tickle. She kicked at his hand and he laughed softly. Then he looked up at Cait, his grim expression returning. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Let me think on it for a little while,” Cait said. “I have to speak to Lynch and make a call, and then we’ll talk.”

Leyla pushed the bottle away and Cait set it on the table. She stood up, holding the baby against her shoulder, and bent to kiss Jordan on the cheek. He actually blushed a little.

“Thank you,” she said. “Really. You being here helps me remember that the whole world hasn’t gone crazy. Whatever happens next, I couldn’t deal with it without you.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sarge.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry. Cait,” he said, gazing at her. “Listen, I just … I’m here for you, okay? Like you said, whatever happens next. You and Leyla, you’re not alone.”

A long moment passed between them before Cait stepped back, holding Leyla close.

“Speaking of not alone, I should go talk to Lynch. I’ve got to break some bad news to him.”

“What’s that?” Jordan asked.

“All these years he’s been hunting the people killing War’s Children,” Cait said. “It’s time to tell him he’s been thinking too small.”