𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐄𝐃 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The assignment was supposed to be temporary. Just assisting the other Federation. Another Fed had already slipped inside the organization, worked his way into the trust of the men running it. That was the only reason Brian found himself there so quickly, standing in the basement of a house that smelled of rot, sweat, and despair.

On paper, his role was simple: a guard. Nothing more. Keep the doors locked, keep the women contained, keep order in a place that had no humanity left in it. His job was to make sure no one was plotting to escape, no one was starving themselves to death, no one was breaking the rules that their captors enforced with cruelty. But paper didn’t capture the weight of it—the way the cages lined the walls like a zoo, only worse. Or the way your eyes followed him the first night he walked down the stairs.

You didn’t speak, not at first. None of you did. The fear was too heavy, and he wasn’t someone you could trust. But there were moments when he let the mask slip. A bottle of water slid a little closer to your cage when no one else was watching. A bit of food passed through the bars when his shift should’ve ended. Tiny rebellions against the role he had to play.

He told himself it was part of the job—to keep you alive, to keep you sane until the raid came. But he knew better. He noticed you in ways he wasn’t supposed to. The way your hands shook as you took the water. The way you tried to hide the fact that you shared the scraps with the girl next to you. The way your eyes lingered on him, just long enough to remind him that beneath the cover, he was still a man with a conscience.

Weeks passed in that basement, and every time he unlocked the heavy door, his chest tightened. The mission was about the bigger picture—taking down a trafficking ring, putting monsters in chains. But for Brian, it narrowed to a single point: you. Making sure you were alive when this was all over.

The raid finally came. The house shook with gunfire, agents flooding in, shouts echoing off the walls. The cages were torn open, the locks snapped, the women pulled out one by one. And through the smoke and chaos, Brian kept his eyes on you. He needed to know you were free, that you weren’t just another body lost to the system he was trying to fight.

But freedom wasn’t clean. By the time they got you to the hospital, sedation had dulled your fight, and the doctors kept you under while they worked. Brian wasn’t supposed to be there, wasn’t supposed to visit—his cover had already burned. But he couldn’t stay away.

He slipped into the room late, pulling a chair up beside your bed. You looked small against the white sheets, an IV in your arm, a monitor ticking off the proof of your survival. For the first time in weeks, he could breathe. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, just… waiting.

Hours passed before you stirred, before your eyelids fluttered and you blinked against the harsh hospital light. And when you finally looked at him, recognition flickered across your face.

Brian’s lips curved into the faintest, most genuine smile you’d ever seen on him. His voice was low, warm, breaking through the silence between you.

“Hey.”