Ever could hear nothing but the sound of his own labored breathing. It sounded like he’d run a marathon, even though he was only sitting there, waiting for the others to finish slaughtering people in his name. A tiny giggle escaped him, drawing Atticus’s attention away from his granola bar.

Ever stifled the next laugh threatening to bubble up from some place deep inside him. Why was he laughing? None of this was funny. People were dying. Ever should care about that. He should feel something. Did it make him a bad person that he didn’t?

He was just numb. That perfect, lovely numbness he usually only got from trauma. But this didn’t feel traumatic. It was…exhilarating. His heart was pounding, and his breath sounded like rushing water in his ears.

Maybe this was why people jumped out of airplanes or climbed mountains without ropes. Maybe it wasn’t trauma that caused the numbness but the adrenaline that came from the danger? Even with his earplugs and headphones, as soon as the first shot was fired, his stomach clenched. It sounded muffled, like he was hearing it from underwater, but he heard it nonetheless.

The gunfire sounded like fireworks. The ones he’d seen kids playing with that made a cracking sound when you lit one end. Then they would just…pop, pop, pop. Then silence.

Ever looked at Atticus, who seemed unfazed. Until he didn’t. He spoke, but not to Ever. To someone in the house talking to him from that little button in his ear. The world was a strange place, and Ever didn’t think he’d ever fully understand the technology available, but if it helped keep Arsen safe, he was grateful for it.

Atticus gently removed Ever’s headphones. “Stay here. Don’t move. Lake is hurt. I need to go help.”

He didn’t give Ever any time to process that information, just started to run across the lawn with his backpack in hand. Ever pulled the earplugs free, grateful for the almost eerie silence that followed. Until he realized it wasn’t silent.

At first, he thought it was an animal—this high-pitched sort of keening wail, like it was injured. Ever frowned, moving towards the sound without thought, making sure he stayed behind the cover of the treeline. The closer he got, the louder the sound grew, until it dawned on him that it wasn’t an animal at all, but a baby. A human baby, crying hysterically.

Ever looked back to the house, then at the shipping container where the sound came from. There was a baby in there. An actual baby. There was no more gunfire. It had to be safe to open the doors. What if that baby was alone? No. Cherry had said there were two women and other children in there. He couldn’t leave them in there.

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, before marching across the lawn to the container, lining up the bolt cutters against the lock and squeezing. Nothing happened. He tried again. And again. But he wasn’t strong enough.

The people inside heard him attempting to open the doors. They were banging on the metal sides, speaking in a language Ever didn’t understand. A knot formed in his throat, tears pricking his eyes as he tried and failed again and again.

“What have we here?”

Ever froze, trying to see who was behind him. The man made it easy, taking a step to his side so he could place the barrel of his gun directly against Ever’s temple. He wore a dirty black t-shirt and baggy ripped jeans. He had three teardrops beneath his left eye. He smelled sour.

“I’m guessing you’re with them?” he asked.

Ever couldn’t speak. He vaguely noted the bolt cutters in his hand falling to the ground and the racket they made when they bounced off the metal side to land at his feet.

“Yeah,” Ever said, his mouth a desert.

“Good, then you can come with me and maybe I’ll make it out of this alive.” He gave a gruff laugh. “Probably can’t say the same for you.”

Ever couldn’t move. He wanted to, but he was frozen in place, aware of nothing but the barrel of the gun cold against his sweaty temple. Arsen was going to be so mad at him.

“I—”

“Ever!”

Arsen. The man swung his gun in Arsen’s direction, clearly intent on firing. Ever cried out, then grabbed for the man’s arm. But it was too late. His head just…exploded. Not really, but that was what it felt like. Bits of blood and bone hit Ever’s face as the man beside him dropped. He stood there, trembling so hard his teeth were clacking together.

“Ever? Ever? Can you hear me?”

Ever could hear him, but it was hard over the ringing in his ears. “There’s a baby in there,” he whispered.

“What?” Arsen said, gripping his shoulders and turning him around. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? This isn’t your blood, is it?”

“There’s a baby in there,” he said again, this time more frantically, trying to shake Arsen off him to grab the bolt cutters. When Arsen fought him, he made a growling sound, wrenching himself from his grasp.

He tried to pick them up, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. It was like his brain was giving the wrong signals. He gave up on the bolt cutters and just started clawing and pulling at the lock until Arsen was physically dragging him away.

He fought with everything he had, but he was no match for Arsen. But Arsen wasn’t alone. Jericho was there. And Seven. Jericho grabbed the bolt cutters, cutting through the lock in one clean motion.

They moved out of the way, swinging the doors wide but staying behind them in case there was another threat within. When nothing happened, Arsen peeked around the door, gun raised. He dropped it almost immediately.

Ever ducked under his arm, stopping short. There weren’t just two women but four, all filthy and in various states of undress. They were young, some maybe even younger than Ever. One was breastfeeding a baby that looked to be no more than a few months old. The one he’d heard crying.

Jericho held up his hands, holstering his weapon, as they all cowered against the back, shielding the children behind them. Once more, Ever tried not to cry. They were protecting them even if it killed them. Seven was still scanning the perimeter, gun at the ready.

“You can come out now,” Arsen said.

“They don’t speak English,” Ever said.

“I do.”

A tiny little body wiggled between the women’s legs, dodging them as they tried to grab him. He was small. Like a toddler. He was filthy, but he seemed surprisingly chipper given the circumstances.

“You do?” Jericho asked. “Is one of those ladies your mommy?”

He shook his head. “No mommy. Brother.” He pointed to a small boy with brown hair and brown eyes cowering in the back, eerily quiet. “We stay with Ms. Tracy, but she gave us to bad men for the med-cine.”

Jericho flinched, but then hid it behind a smile. “Oh. Well, you don’t have to go back to Ms. Tracy,” Jericho assured him, gathering him into his arms. “How old are you?”

The little boy held up four fingers.

“You’re four? You talk like a grown up,” Jericho gushed.

The women moved forward, one of them picking up the boy at the back. As Arsen helped each of them out of the container, they looked around, blinking like they were standing in the noonday sun and not the early morning. How long had they been in there?

The woman handed the frail boy to Arsen and said something none of them understood. Jericho attempted to speak to her in Cantonese, but she frowned at him in confusion.

“Shit,” Jericho muttered.

The others made their way across the lawn—all but Lake and Nico. Atticus reached into his backpack and pulled out more granola bars and water. The boy in Jericho’s arms snatched it, took a big bite, but then immediately broke it in half for the little boy in Arsen’s arms. “Brother’s hungry,” he said.

“We gotta get them out of here,” Seven said. “I know the exchange wasn’t until this afternoon, but I don’t want to wait around to see if a bunch of Sons of Anarchy wannabes are punctual. What do we do with them?”

“My father has a friend in social services,” Atticus said. “She’s going to meet us at the rest stop just before Bennington. We’ll give them over there. She’ll make sure to keep our names out of it.”

“This is yucky,” the little boy said even as he took another bite.

They must be so hungry.

Jericho laughed. “I think so, too. How about we stop and get you something to eat on the way?”

“Jericho…” Atticus said his name like a warning.

“Come on, Freckles. They’re hungry. A trip to McDonald’s in BFE nowhere isn’t going to mess with the plan.”

“Yeah, okay,” Atticus said, giving in easily.

Arsen handed him the toddler in his arms. “Here you go. Good luck. The rest of us are heading home.”

“Lake is heading to a private clinic,” Atticus said. “I’ll drop you a pin. He’s gonna be there for a while. That wound is bad.”

Arsen gave a single nod.

Ever wanted to protest, but Arsen was already dragging him away. He looked back over at the women, who were following Jericho and Atticus at a slower pace than Arsen’s hurried one.

“Why are you dragging me?” Arsen didn’t answer, just kept tugging, leaving Ever no choice but to let him. “Hello? Why aren’t you talking to me?”

Arsen turned on him abruptly, causing Ever to come up short or plow directly into his chest. Arsen gripped his shoulders hard. “You could have died. You could have fucking died. That man had a gun to your head. What were you thinking?”

“I-I heard a baby crying,” Ever said quietly.

Arsen’s face crumpled, and he dragged him into his arms. “You… If anything had happened to you, I would be ruined. Do you hear me? I will never get over it.”

Ever’s tears soaked Arsen’s shirt. “I had to do something. They were crying so hard. I thought maybe it was alone.”

“Your soft heart could have gotten you killed,” Arsen said against his ear.

“I just wanted to save somebody,” Ever said.

“You did,” Arsen shot back, voice raw. “You saved me. You saved me the day I found you, and if I lose you, I will never be okay. I know you have a big heart, and you want to help the world, but please, let me be selfish with you. I can’t stand the thought…” He trailed off. “Please, besenok. Can I just be selfish with you? I will give you your happily ever after. I promise. Can you just let me do that? Can you just let me love you and keep you safe?”

Ever could barely speak past the lump in his throat. His happily ever after.

“Yeah,” he whispered against Arsen’s shoulder. “You can do that.”

“Thank you,” Arsen breathed against his cheek, like he’d granted him some gift.

“Can we go to the bookstore?” Ever asked suddenly.

Arsen pulled back. “What?”

“I—” Ever blushed. “All my books got rained on in the fire.”

“I was professing my undying love and devotion and you’re thinking about books?” Arsen asked, sounding more amused than angry.

“You said happily ever after, which made me think of books, which made me remember my books are all damaged. You said you’d give me my happy ending. My happy ending has books.”

Arsen laughed. “Okay, besenok. Once we get home and get some sleep, I’ll take you to get books.”

“And to the diner?” Ever asked, giving him big eyes.

“Your happily ever after includes diner food as well?”

Ever nodded. “And dessert.”

“Are you trying to take advantage of me in my weakened emotional state?”

Ever grinned. “Is it working…Senya?”

“You really are a little demon. Yes, it’s working. Let’s go home.”

Home. Ever had a home. Well, he would have a home with Arsen, wherever they ended up. Hopefully back in the apartment over the garage, but if not, somewhere else. Arsen was his home. Arsen was his happily ever after.