Chapter 28

I woke to a soft pressure against my mouth, barely at first, like I was still dreaming. Another kiss followed, warmer this time, unhurried. I smiled before I even opened my eyes.

JJ was hovering over me, hair falling loose around her face, that quiet, fond look she only wore in moments no one else got to see. She brushed one more kiss to my lips, then my cheek.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered.

I slid a hand to her waist, pulling her closer. “Best way I’ve woken up in a while.”

She smiled against my mouth, and for a few seconds, the world—and everything waiting for us outside that door—didn’t exist.

“What time is it?” I asked, searching for my phone.

“I think four or something.”

I groaned softly, letting my head fall back into the pillow. “That early, huh?”

JJ laughed under her breath and brushed another kiss along my jaw. “We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we have to be functional adults again.”

I sighed, tightening my arm around her. “Then I vote, we don’t move yet.”

JJ’s smile softened, her forehead resting against mine. “Mm. Strong argument.”

My hand slid from her waist up her back, pulling her fully against me. She inhaled softly in surprise, then melted into it, like she’d been waiting for me to make the call. I kissed her again—deeper, claiming this time—letting it linger until she made that quiet sound in the back of her throat.

“Don’t,” she murmured, even as her fingers curled into my shirt.

I smiled against her mouth. “You started it.”

I rolled us just enough to pin her, forearm braced beside her head, my other hand threading through her hair to tilt her face up to mine.

Her legs tightened around me, breath uneven now, eyes darker. “We really don’t have time,” she said.

I kissed the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, deliberately unhurried. “Then tell me to stop.”

No words came out.

I kissed her neck, sucking just enough that it might bruise. I earned a sharp inhale.

“I’ll make it quick,” I whispered in her ear.

My hand slid down to her thigh, tracing light scratches. I couldn’t stop looking at her, the way her camisole framed her curves. She caught my gaze and grinned, pulling the top off without hesitation.

I moved closer, lips and hands following, teasing and exploring, earning soft sighs from her.

“Y/N,” she murmured, guiding my hand where she wanted it. “Focus here.”

I obeyed, circling her as my lips found hers again, every touch pulling sharper, faster reactions from her. Her moans came louder, breath uneven.

“Make me cum,” she gasped.

I didn’t stop. Every movement built the tension, every touch driving us higher. Her legs tightened around me, body trembling, eyes closed, lost in the moment.

I paused just long enough to catch her gaze, forehead to forehead, letting the heat linger between us before reality crept back in.

We stayed tangled for a few more breaths, letting the heat and adrenaline fade into quiet warmth. I brushed my lips against hers one last time, slow, lingering, then shifted to pull the blankets back over us.

JJ snuggled close, resting her head on my chest. I ran a hand along her back, careful, steady.

After a moment, I whispered, “We should probably get cleaned up before the team gets here.”

We slid out of bed, stretching muscles that had been tense in a different way just moments ago. I grabbed towels while she padded ahead to the shower, letting the water heat up.

The steam hit immediately, warm and heavy, and I stepped in beside her. Our hands found each other again, squeezing, brushing against each other under the spray. Water ran down our skin, washing away the lingering heat, but we didn’t stop touching entirely—just a few lingering kisses, playful nudges, and quiet smiles as we rinsed off.

After a few minutes, we stepped out, wrapped ourselves in towels, and moved to get dressed. No rush, no need to speak—the silence was enough, comfortable, shared.

By the time we were ready, the trailer had started to hum with early activity outside, signaling that reality was creeping back in.

I shook off the last traces of warmth from the shower, quickly getting dressed in my tactical pants and fitted top, checking my vest one last time. JJ had already finished and gave me a small, approving smile as I grabbed mugs and started brewing coffee for the team.

Just as I wiped a hand across the counter, the familiar rumble of engines rolled up outside. The team was here—arriving earlier than expected, boots tapping across the trailer floor. I took a deep breath, set down the last mug, and turned to greet them.

“Morning, everyone,” I said, voice steady, trying to keep the lingering heat of the morning from showing. “Coffee’s fresh—help yourselves. We’ve got a long day ahead.”

Heads popped around corners, sleepy but alert. Morgan gave me a quick nod, JJ stood close, fingers brushing mine briefly, and Jack lingered at the doorway, looking more settled than I’d seen him all week.

Headlights from the cars of the ATF and DEA agents came cutting through the early morning fog outside, painting long streaks across the trailer floor. The faint hum of engines and muffled footsteps reminded us all that the clock was moving, and soon we’d be on the clock too.

“Let’s do this,” I said to the group.

I turned towards Jack, who was finishing his coffee. “How are you feeling?”

Jack set the cup down carefully, his fingers lingering on the handle a second too long. He met my gaze, eyes steady but tight.

“Ready,” he said finally, voice low. “A little nervous, sure—but I know what’s at stake.”

He pulled me in for a quick, tight hug. I froze for a second, surprised by the raw weight behind it, and he whispered, “Thank you.”

I squeezed his shoulder, then stepped back, taking a deep breath before walking outside in the dark, foggy morning.

Two men from each team approached, their posture professional, eyes alert.

“Morning, gentlemen,” I said, holding out my hand with a firm, confident smile. “SSA Y/N L/N, Behavioral Analysis Unit. Thanks for coming out so early.”

“Agent Rob Reese, ATF,” the first man said, shaking my hand firmly.

“Agent James Rodriguez, DEA,” the second added, nodding in acknowledgment.

I glanced between them, my tone sharpening. “We’ll be moving in shortly. I’ll be giving the briefing once your men are ready.”

“Heard that,” Reese called over his shoulder. “Alright, boys—gather around.”

Agents began moving in, boots crunching against gravel as the loose perimeter tightened. The low murmur of radios and clipped voices filled the air.

Morgan and Reid stepped out of the trailer together, each carrying a folded whiteboard. Morgan set one up with a practiced motion, snapping the legs into place, while Reid immediately started uncapping markers, already halfway into explanation mode.

“Okay,” Morgan said, slapping the board lightly. “Eyes up here.”

“This is the compound that we will be going through,” I stated, voice steady and precise. “Primary target-Elias Harrington- has a predictable morning routine, but his location may vary between the study and the main congregation hall, with a slight chance in the basement.”

Jack added to the conversation, his voice calm but firm. “The odds of Elias being in the basement are slim, but if he’s not in either of those places, you need to move carefully. The basement has enough weapons to arm a small militia.”

A few of the ATF agents exchanged looks. Reese nodded once, jaw tightening.

Reid lifted his marker again. “That aligns with our intel. The basement functions as both storage and a last‑resort defensive position. Narrow corridors, limited exits, and high probability of booby‑trapped choke points.”

Morgan tapped the board where the stairwell was marked. “Which means no rushing it. ATF takes point if we go below ground. Slow, controlled, methodical.”

I stepped closer to the board, pointing to the main hall. “We’ll be executing arrest warrants for Mara Welch, Jon Finch, and Lee Welch as well. All three should be considered armed and dangerous. I know it’s early, but don’t let that fool you—these people are already awake.”

Rodriguez crossed his arms. “Priority targets?”

“Elias first,” I replied without hesitation. “If we cut him off, we disrupt command and control. Mara is next—she’s logistics and enforcement. Jon and Lee are muscle.”

Morgan added, “Once Elias is in cuffs, we lock the compound down. No one leaves without being cleared.”

Reid gestured to the timeline written on the board. “Based on observed behavior, we have a narrow window—approximately seven to ten minutes—before internal alarms or congregation movement increases.”

I let that sink in, then said, “That’s our window. We move fast, but smart. Clear rooms, secure targets, and keep civilians contained and safe.”

I looked around at the assembled agents, my voice steady but firm. “Any questions before we finalize assignments?”

I looked around at the assembled agents, my voice steady but firm. “Any questions before we finalize assignments?”

Nothing. Just focused faces and quiet nods.

I exhaled and cracked a small grin. “Perfect. Which means either I’ve done my job… or you’re all pretending you understand so we can get this over with.”

A few low chuckles broke the tension. Hotch smirked. Emily shook her head, amused.

“Alright,” I said, the humor fading as quickly as it came. “Let’s lock in assignments and get moving. ATF—once apprehensions are complete, your priority is the basement. Secure weapons, clear it methodically. DEA, your priority is the warehouse. If intel shifts, you may assist with the basement as well.”

I glanced back at the board. “BAU will handle Elias and the primary inner circle. Communication stays open. If anything deviates from the plan, you call it immediately.”

The room settled into that quiet, ready focus again.

I reached for my own vest when Reese stepped up beside me.

“L/N,” he said, holding out a rifle case. “Heard through the grapevine you’ve got a favorite. Figured I’d bring it—just in case.”

I arched a brow, opening the case. My AR. Set up exactly how I liked it.

A slow grin crept in despite myself. “You’ve got good sources.”

Reese smirked. “ATF hears things.”

I slung it over my shoulder, the familiar weight settling in. “Appreciate it.”

Morgan glanced over. “Of course you’ve got a favorite.”

“Don’t start,” I shot back, already checking my vest one last time.

JJ stepped close, adjusting the strap at my shoulder without a word. Just a quick squeeze.

I lifted my voice so everyone could hear. “Alright—drivers, follow me. When we pull in, the lights are off. We move fast, we stay tight, and we keep it clean.”

Engines turned over almost in unison. Doors shut. Radios clicked to life. The convoy began to move, headlights cutting through the thinning fog as we rolled out—quiet, controlled, and ready.

The convoy slowed just before the tree line, engines idling low.

Hotch and Rossi pulled their vests tighter as they stepped out of the lead SUV. Jack followed.

Inside the command vehicle, screens flickered to life—multiple feeds popping up as agents checked their body cams. The compound filled the monitors from a dozen angles: doors, windows, hallways, blind spots.

Rossi folded his arms. “We’ll coordinate from here. You call it in, we adjust in real time.”

Hotch met my eyes through the open door. “If anything goes sideways—anything—you pull back.”

Prentiss adjusted her earpiece beside me, her voice calm but tight. “All units live. Body cams are up.”

The radios crackled as confirmations rolled in.

I turned toward the compound, rifle steady in my hands.

“Alright,” I said quietly. “Let’s move.”

The team advanced, silent and controlled, shadows sliding forward as the first breach team stacked up on the main entrance—every move watched, recorded, and analyzed in real time.

The men with the battering rams moved in fast. One smooth hit—wood splintered, the lock giving way with a sharp crack—and the doors swung inward.

“Clear left,” someone called.

“Clear right.”

We flowed in immediately, boots light, weapons up. The main hall was already stirring—heads snapping up, confusion rippling through the congregation before fear could catch up.

“FBI! Don’t move!” Morgan shouted. “Hands where we can see them!”

Panic tried to take hold, but training beat chaos. Agents moved fast, directing people to the ground, separating bodies, controlling the space.

“Mara Welch—on the stairs!” Emily called.

I pivoted just in time to see her freeze, one hand halfway to her pocket.

“Don’t,” I warned.

She hesitated. That was all it took. Two agents closed in, cuffs snapping around her wrists.

“Target secured,” Emily said into her mic.

Across the room, Jon Finch and Lee Welch didn’t put up much more of a fight—one tried to bolt, the other reached for a weapon and thought better of it when six rifles tracked him at once.

“Three in custody,” Morgan confirmed. “Minimal resistance.”

For half a second, it felt like we’d won.

Then my radio crackled.

“Primary target headed to the basement stairwell.” An agent commanded.

“Fuck,” I said under my breath. “Copy.”

I booked it toward the basement, trying to catch up. I finally got ahead of everyone.

The stairwell was narrow, concrete walls closing in, the air heavy and damp. My boots echoed as I ran, rifle raised, heart hammering. Morgan was right behind me, calm but lethal, every step calculated.

Gunfire cracked from below, echoing violently off the walls. Sparks of light bounced from bullet impacts, chipping the concrete around us.

“Contact!” someone yelled over the comms.

I crouched behind the railing, eyes scanning the darkness. Shadows moved—fast, deliberate. Elias had gone underground, deeper than we expected.

“Stay tight! Watch corners!” I barked.

We reached the bottom just in time to see a figure vanish behind a concrete column.

“Elias!” I shouted. “Come out with your hands up. We don’t have to make this difficult.”

Bullets tore into the wall beside us. We hit cover, returning fire, the sound echoing violently off concrete.

No answer. Just movement. Footsteps retreating deeper.

I pressed my back against the cold concrete, heart hammering, rifle steady in my hands. “Reese, flank left. Watch that corridor!”

He nodded, silent, lethal, moving like a shadow. Every step counted, every breath measured.

We reached the end of the corridor together—Reese tight on my heels—finding a closed steel door. Beyond it, nothing but darkness swallowed the tunnel.

The door started closing fast.

I didn’t hesitate—I sprinted and dove, sliding across the concrete as the gap narrowed. Metal screeched against my vest as I rolled through, barely making it.

“L/N!” Reese yelled, but I didn’t look back. He was right behind me, kicking the door just enough to squeeze through before it slammed shut with a deafening clang.

We hit the dirt floor tunnel, dark and narrow. The faint hum of our radios cut out, nothing. No comms. Just us, moving forward.

The tunnel stretched straight ahead, sloping upward, ending where light flickered through a grate. I could see the first hints of trees beyond.

“Stay sharp,” I muttered. “Once we’re out, it has to be woods. He can vanish fast.”

Reese nodded, keeping pace, rifle tight. Every step echoed in the tunnel. Elias had gotten ahead—but the exit gave him no cover. Not yet.

We hit the end of the tunnel, sunlight spilling over our shoulders, trees swaying in the early morning breeze. The scent of damp earth hit me first, then the quiet—too quiet. Elias could be anywhere.

“Spread,” I hissed to Reese, scanning the underbrush. “Comms are still out, so eyes only. Watch for movement, shadows, anything that doesn’t belong.”

Reese nodded, eyes sharp, scanning left to right. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves made me tense.

I crouched low, moving forward, the dirt crunching softly under my boots. Reese mirrored my pace, covering my flank. “He couldn’t have gotten far,” I muttered, more to myself than him. “Maybe a hundred, two hundred meters at most.”

A flash of movement—too quick for a civilian—darted between the trees. I dropped instinctively, raising my rifle. Reese did the same, eyes locked.

“Elias!” I shouted, voice cutting through the quiet. No reply. Only the wind.

The forest closed in around us, early morning light barely filtering through the thick canopy. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves set my nerves on edge. I moved carefully, eyes scanning, rifle tight in my hands. Reese mirrored my pace, shadowing my movements, eyes sharp, ready.

“Up ahead,” I whispered, spotting a flash of movement between the trees. Elias. He was fast, agile, weaving between trunks, ducking behind thick underbrush.

Before I could call it out, a sharp crack rang from behind us. My stomach dropped. I whipped around just in time to see Reese stumble, his body twisting unnaturally, a hand clutching his side.

“Reese!” I shouted, dropping into a crouch beside him. Blood soaked through his vest.

“Go,” he gasped, eyes locked on mine, every breath shaky. “It hit my vest. You—can’t let him—escape!”

I shook my head. “No. We move together—”

“L/N!” His grip tightened briefly, then released. “Go! Now!”

I swallowed, heart hammering. Fear, anger, and adrenaline collided. My hands pressed against the wound instinctively, but I knew he was right—if I stayed, Elias would vanish. My gut told me I couldn’t lose him now, but Reese’s trust anchored me.

“Fine,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “But I’ll come back for you.”

Reese gave a small, pained nod, the kind that said he trusted me even as he was fading into pain. I kissed his temple quickly before sprinting after the figure that had caused this chaos.

Elias’s movements were calculated, almost taunting. Every time I closed some distance, he twisted into another corridor of trees, disappearing behind trunks and shadows. My boots tore through damp leaves, rifle ready, eyes locked on his form.

Branches clawed at my arms, roots snagged my feet, but I pushed through, chest burning. My breaths were loud, ragged, adrenaline surging. The anger at him, the fear for Reese, and the knowledge that if I hesitated even a second, Elias would slip away—every emotion fused into a single driving force.

Another gunshot cracked behind me. Heart hammering, adrenaline spiking—but the bullet whizzed past, missing me by inches, kicking up dirt at my feet. My shoulder stung from the near-miss, but I didn’t break stride. Elias had vanished into the trees, but I knew he couldn’t outrun me for long.

I picked up my pace, weaving through underbrush, boots slipping over wet leaves, branches whipping across my face. He twisted left, trying to lose me, but I anticipated his movement, closing the distance with every calculated step.

Suddenly, I was right behind him. He froze, rifle raised—too late. My hand shot out from the side, slamming into his weapon. The magazine ejected with a metallic clatter, bullets scattering across the forest floor. His eyes widened in shock as I wrenched the gun from his grip, dropping it a few feet away.

Before he could react, I had my rifle up, muzzle leveled at his spine.

“Don’t,” I warned, breath still burning in my chest.

For half a second, he hesitated.

Then he moved.

He spun fast, slamming into me instead of reaching for the dropped weapon. My shot went wide, barking into the trees as we collided hard, momentum knocking us both off balance. We went down in the dirt, my rifle pinned awkwardly between us.

His hand came up, not to strike—but to claw.

Pain exploded across my face as his nails raked from my eye toward my cheekbone. I hissed, vision blurring for a split second, warm blood streaking down my skin. He took advantage of it, twisting, trying to get leverage, trying to get away.

“No,” I growled, shoving him back hard with my shoulder.

My hand came up instinctively, fingers brushing wet heat on my cheek. I saw red.

I drove forward again, boots digging into the dirt, cutting off his escape before he could fully break free.

He stumbled, off‑balance now, desperation replacing calculation. I didn’t rush it. I planted my feet, brought the rifle back up.

“On your knees,” I ordered. No shouting. No drama. Just certainty.

Instead, his shoulders sagged. The fight drained out of him all at once, like someone had pulled a plug. He dropped to his knees in the dirt, hands slowly coming up.

I moved in, swift and controlled, boot nudging his ankle out, forcing him flat. Cuffs snapped shut around his wrists.

“Elias Harrington,” I said, breath finally catching up with me, “you’re done.”

I sat back on my heels for a moment, chest heaving, the forest suddenly too quiet. My face throbbed where he’d cut me.

Somewhere behind me, I heard shouting. Footsteps. Reese’s voice, distant but alive. Relief hit harder than adrenaline ever had.

When radios finally crackled back to life, the first voice I heard was Hotch’s, calm but sharp.

“L/N, status?”

“Suspect in custody. Elias is down. Reese… he’s alive.”

“Copy,” Hotch replied, relief barely restrained. “Extraction teams are moving in. Stay put until we reach you.”

A low rumble broke the forest’s uneasy quiet. I glanced up to see an ATV and a four-door off-road vehicle pulling through the trees, lights cutting swaths through the early morning haze.

“Extraction’s here,” Reese muttered, limping slightly but moving on his own.

I nodded, giving Elias one last glance before turning. “Let’s go.”

We climbed into the ATV first, Reese riding shotgun, me gripping the handlebars with blood still on my cheek. The four-door followed close behind, agents covering our flanks, scanning the woods as we moved.

The engine roared to life, mud and leaves spraying as we tore down the makeshift path, sunlight finally breaking through the canopy ahead. Behind us, the forest fell silent again, the chaos contained—for now.

I caught Reese’s eye and offered a tight smile. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

He nodded, his grin shaky but real. “But we’re out of that hellhole.”

The ATV skidded to a stop near the convoy, engines idling as agents rushed forward. The moment I pulled my helmet off, the reactions hit.

JJ was the first one there.

Her breath caught—just for a split second—but I saw it. Her hand came up automatically, stopping just short of my cheek. “Oh my God,” she said quietly, eyes locked on the blood drying along my face. “You’re going to have a scar.”

Morgan let out a low whistle. “Damn. You look like you went twelve rounds with a pissed‑off cat.”

Emily shot him a look. “Read the room.”

Hotch stepped in, gaze sharp, assessing me the way he always did—checking stance, breathing, pupils—before his eyes flicked to the cuffs on Elias as he was hauled out of the four‑door.

“You did exactly what you were supposed to,” Hotch said. “You kept pressure on him. You didn’t hesitate. And you brought him in.”

Rossi nodded once, approving. “Textbook takedown. Tunnel, woods, no comms—and you still closed it. We saw it all on your body cam.”

Reid stepped closer, eyes scanning my face and the streak of blood running from my cheek to my jaw. His hands hovered for a second, hesitating before he lightly pressed at the edge of the cut—not enough to hurt, just to assess.

“You’ve got a superficial laceration along the zygomatic arch,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Looks like it nicked the dermis but didn’t hit anything deeper. You might get a permanent mark, but no major structural damage.”

I flexed my jaw and turned my head slightly. “Feels like hell anyway.”

I let JJ guide me toward the ambulance, her hand steady on my arm while the EMTs moved around us, assessing and prepping. The air inside was cool, sterile, a sharp contrast to the chaos of the woods.

“Impressive work out there,” a familiar voice called, cutting through the hum of medical activity. I looked up to see Strauss, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp.

“Strauss,” I managed, voice still rough from exertion.

She gave a small nod. “Congratulations. You brought him in. Go home after this—you’ve earned it. All your things will be brought to you.”

I let out a soft laugh. “I might need a few vacation days after today.”

JJ leaned closer, grinning. “And I would like some as well.”

Strauss raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Approved. On one condition—you fill out the necessary paperwork regarding your relationship before you leave. I expect everything above board.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Fair enough.”

JJ squeezed my hand again. “Worth it.”

Strauss gave one last nod, and then I let myself sink into the quiet of the ambulance, JJ at my side.

Morgan and Reid came walking up, stepping carefully around the stretchers and EMT gear. Morgan’s eyes flicked between JJ and me, then he let out a low whistle.

“So… this is a thing?” he asked, crossing his arms.

JJ didn’t miss a beat, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Yeah. It’s a thing.”

Morgan groaned, throwing his hands up. “Dammit. I really did not see this coming.”

Reid, adjusting his glasses, stepped a little closer, voice clipped and almost ceremonious. “I believe this is the appropriate moment for payment, Agent Morgan. As per the terms of our wager, the victor collects.”

Morgan groaned again, muttering something about never betting with a genius. JJ leaned her head against my shoulder, stifling a laugh.

We finally made it to the plane. The team had gone on ahead to the hotel to grab their things, leaving JJ and me sitting side by side.

She slipped her hand into mine, leaning against my shoulder. “Finally… a moment to breathe.”

I exhaled, letting the tension drain out of my shoulders. “Worth every second,” I murmured, glancing at her with a small smile.

JJ chuckled softly, resting her forehead against mine. “Let’s just try to keep it that way for a while.”