Chapter 9: The Naked Briefing
The clock on the wall stopped.
Not metaphorically. The actual hands froze, the second hand twitching once before going still, as if time itself had decided to take a breath and watch what happened next.
Mandy stood in the doorway, water beading on her skin, dripping onto the tile floor in a slow, steady rhythm. Beside her, Mai was a statue carved from wet marble—all smooth lines and knowing eyes, a single droplet suspended from her nipple before it fell.
The kitchen went silent.
Jan looked up from her laptop. Two phones pressed to her ears, her braid disheveled, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. She blinked once. Twice. Then she went back to her conversation without missing a beat.
"If anyone has a problem with the human body," she said, her voice flat, "they can leave."
Nobody moved.
Mike was standing at the counter, a coffee mug halfway to his lips. His eyes went wide, then wider, then he very deliberately set the mug down and stared at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe.
Casey looked at her daughter. Looked at Mai. Looked at the water pooling on the floor and the way the morning light caught the curves of both women's bodies. A slow smile spread across her face.
"Bug," she said. "You're dripping on my floor."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just grab a towel."
But Mandy didn't move. She couldn't. Her feet were rooted to the tile, her heart hammering against her ribs, her skin still flushed from the shower and something else—something that had nothing to do with hot water.
Calista was watching too. Her golden eyes had gone dark, hungry, tracing the lines of Mai's body with an intensity that made the air feel thicker. She licked her lips. Slow. Deliberate.
Katrina sat beside her, still as a ghost. Her storm-grey eyes flickered between Mai and Mandy, and something moved behind them—something old and knowing, the ghost of a woman who'd spent thirty years in a void and come back hungry for everything she'd missed.
Ben was frozen mid-sip of his coffee. His eyes were on Mai's hand—specifically, on the way her fingers had drifted to her own hip, tracing lazy circles on her skin.
Jess sat beside him, her coffee forgotten, her dark eyes fixed on Mandy with an expression that was equal parts amusement and desire.
"Well," Casey said, breaking the silence. "This is awkward."
"Is it?" Mai asked.
She walked into the room like she owned it. Because, in a way, she did. This was her house now—had been for months. She'd fucked half the people in this room. She'd walked naked through these halls more times than she could count. This was just another morning.
She pulled out a chair and sat down. Didn't bother with a towel. Didn't bother with clothes. Just sat there, water dripping from her hair onto the table, and looked at the spread of cold eggs and half-eaten toast like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ben made a sound. Something between a choke and a laugh.
Mai turned to him. Smiled.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
"You look uncomfortable."
"I'm not—" He cleared his throat. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're staring at my tits."
"I'm not—" He was. He absolutely was. "I'm just—"
"It's okay." Mai reached over and took his hand. Pulled it toward her. Pressed it against her chest. "You can touch. I don't mind."
Ben's breath caught.
Mandy watched. Her heart was still hammering, but it wasn't fear anymore. It was something else. Something that felt like hunger.
Casey was watching too. Her fingers had drifted to the buttons of her blouse. She undid the first one. Slowly. Then the second.
"You know what?" she said. "Fuck it."
She shrugged out of the blouse. Let it fall to the floor. Her bra followed—a simple black thing that she unhooked with practiced ease and tossed onto the counter.
Mandy's breath hitched.
She'd seen her mother naked before. Of course she had. But not like this. Not with the morning light catching the silver in her hair, not with the soft curves of her body on display, not with her nipples hardening in the cool air-conditioned air.
"You're all thinking it," Casey said. "Might as well act on it."
Jan looked up from her laptop. Her eyes swept the room—Mike, still staring at the ceiling; Calista, her fingers twitching on the table; Katrina, her breath coming faster; Ben, his hand still pressed to Mai's chest; Jess, watching everything with that sharp, knowing gaze.
"Fine," Jan said. She set the laptop aside, pulled one phone away from her ear. "But if anyone needs me, I'm still working."
She undid her jeans. Shimmied out of them. Left them on the floor next to Casey's blouse.
Within a minute, everyone was naked.
The air smelled like soap and coffee and skin. The clock still wasn't moving. The runes on the countertops pulsed with a soft, golden light, as if they too were watching.
Mai reached over and wrapped her hand around Ben's cock.
He gasped. His hips jerked. She stroked him slowly, her eyes on his face, watching every flicker of pleasure and surprise.
"I've missed this," she said.
"You've—" He swallowed. "You've been here the whole time."
"Not this. This." She squeezed. "Being with people who don't flinch. Being with people who want what I want."
Jess pulled Mandy down onto the bench beside her. Her hand slid up Mandy's thigh, warm and sure.
"Tell me about your night," she said.
Mandy's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I—"
"Don't be shy." Jess's fingers found her hip. Squeezed. "I want to hear it. Every detail."
So Mandy told her.
The words spilled out like water—the astral projection, the weird magic, her parents' hands on her body, her mother's tongue between her legs. She described the way Casey had moaned against her cunt, the way Mike had whispered encouragement in her ear, the way Jan's fingers had felt buried inside her while Calista watched from the astral plane.
"Fuck," Jess breathed.
Her hand moved higher. Found Mandy's clit. Circled it slowly.
"And you liked it?"
"Yes."
"You want it again?"
"Yes."
Across the table, Casey caught her daughter's eye. Smiled.
"You're not embarrassed," Mandy said. It wasn't a question.
"Should I be?"
"I—no. I don't know."
Casey reached across the table. Took Mandy's hand. Squeezed it.
"I love you, Bug. I've always loved you. Nothing you do—nothing you want—is going to change that."
Mandy's eyes burned.
"Even if I want—"
"Even if you want everything." Casey's thumb stroked the back of her hand. "Even if you want things that would make most people run screaming. You're my daughter. You're my blood. And I will never, ever be ashamed of you."
Mai's hand was moving faster now. Ben was panting, his head thrown back, his hips jerking into her grip.
"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck, Mai, I'm going to—"
"Not yet."
She stopped. Released him. He whined—actually whined, a sound that was half frustration and half desperation.
"Not yet," she repeated. "We're just getting started."
Calista was watching her sister. Her fingers had drifted between her own legs, moving in slow circles.
"You're beautiful," she said to Mandy.
Mandy blushed. Actually blushed, her cheeks going pink, her whole body flushing with heat.
"So are you."
"I know." Calista smiled. "But you're beautiful in a different way. You don't know it. That's what makes it special."
Jess's hand was moving faster now, and Mandy could feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in her belly.
"You're going to come for me," Jess said.
"I—"
"Not a question." Her fingers pressed harder. "Come for me, Mandy. Show everyone how good you are."
The room was a blur. Faces and bodies and caught breaths. Her mother watching, her father—god, her father—watching too, his hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking slowly. Mai straddling Ben's lap while he reached for her. Jan on the phone, but her eyes—her eyes were on Mandy, bright and hungry.
And then Jess's fingers curled inside her, and Mandy broke.
She came with a cry that echoed off the walls. Her hips bucked. Her vision went white. Somewhere in the distance, she heard someone—Calista—moaning in response, and the sound of skin on skin, and Casey's low, satisfied laugh.
When she opened her eyes, Ben was buried inside Mai.
Not fucking. Not yet. Just inside her, deep and still, both of them breathing hard.
"Hi," Mai said to him.
"Hi."
"I've wanted this since the shower."
"You were in the shower ten minutes ago."
"I know."
She started to move. Slow rolls of her hips, grinding down on him, her tits bouncing with every motion.
Casey stood up. Walked around the table. Knelt beside Mandy.
"Okay?" she asked.
Mandy nodded. She couldn't speak. Her throat was too tight, her body too full of electricity.
Casey leaned in. Kissed her forehead. Then her cheek. Then her mouth—soft, gentle, a mother's kiss. And then not soft at all.
Mandy moaned into her mother's mouth. Tasted coffee and something sweeter. Felt Jess's fingers still inside her, Casey's tongue on her lips, and she thought: this is insane. This is absolutely batshit insane. And I don't care.
I don't care.
She opened her mouth wider. Let her mother's tongue slide against hers. Let Jess's fingers curl deeper. Let the sensation wash over her in waves.
When Casey pulled back, she was smiling.
"Good girl," she said.
She turned to Jess. Raised an eyebrow.
"Room for one more?"
Jess laughed—a low, throaty sound. "Always."
She pulled her fingers out of Mandy. Sucked them clean, one by one, without breaking eye contact.
"Taste her," she said to Casey. "She's sweeter than you."
Casey didn't need to be told twice.
She moved between Mandy's legs. Pressed her mouth to her daughter's cunt. Licked. Sucked. Devoured.
Mandy screamed.
It was too much. It was everything. Her mother's tongue on her clit, Jess's hand on her breast, the sight of Ben and Mai across the table, the sound of Calista's fingers working herself to a frenzy, Jan's voice still murmuring into the phone like none of this mattered—it was all too much, and she never wanted it to stop.
"Please," she gasped. "Please, please, please—"
"Please what?" Casey murmured against her.
"Please don't stop."
"I won't."
She didn't.
---
Time stretched. The clock stayed frozen. The runes on the countertop glowed brighter and brighter, feeding on the energy in the room—sex magic, Green Moon magic, whatever it was.
Ben came inside Mai with a shout that shook the walls. Mai rode him through it, her hips never stopping, her eyes closed and her mouth open.
When she finally climbed off, she walked to the sink, drank a glass of water, and sat back down next to Calista.
"Your turn," she said.
Calista didn't need to be told.
She pulled Mai to the floor. Spread her legs. Buried her face between them.
Mai laughed. Gasped. Grabbed Calista's silver hair.
"Oh, that's—that's good—"
Casey was still eating Mandy out. Jess had moved to the floor, her legs spread, her fingers working her own clit while she watched.
Mike was still standing at the counter. Still stroking himself. His eyes moved from his wife to his daughter to the tangle of bodies on the floor, and his expression was something Mandy had never seen before.
Not horror. Not disgust.
Wonder.
Like he couldn't believe this was his life. Like he couldn't believe he was in this room, watching this, with these people.
Jan finally hung up the phone. Set both of them on the table. Looked at the scene before her—her friends, her family, the people she loved more than anything—and smiled.
"Better?" Casey asked her.
Jan considered. "Yeah," she said. "I think so."
She stood. Walked to the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To check on Shiv." Jan pulled on her jeans, her shirt, didn't bother with underwear. "The extraction team is ready. They're waiting for the signal."
"What signal?"
"I'll know it when I feel it."
She stopped at the door. Looked back.
"When I come back," she said, "I want everyone exactly where I left them. Or better. I want to see things I can't unsee."
She left.
The door swung shut behind her.
Mandy watched her go. Then she looked at her mother, still between her legs, still licking her cunt like it was the most important thing in the world.
"Mom," she said.
Casey looked up. Her mouth glistened. Her eyes were bright.
"Yes, Bug?"
"I love you."
Casey smiled. A real smile. The kind that crinkled her eyes and softened her whole face.
"I love you too."
And she went back to work.
The clock stayed frozen. The air stayed thick. And in the kitchen of the Horny House, where strange things had always happened and always would, the people inside kept going until there was nothing left but skin and breath and the tangled mess of bodies on the floor.
Outside, the Chicago sun beat down on the lawn.
Inside, they didn't care.
They had more important things to do.
Katrina was the last to come—she'd been watching, waiting, her storm-grey eyes taking everything in with a hunger that had been building for thirty years. When she finally let go, it was with a sob that was half pleasure and half grief, the sound of a woman who'd lost everything and somehow found this.
Calista held her. Kissed her. Whispered things in her ear that no one else could hear.
And somewhere, in the depths of the compound, Shiv felt something shift.
A crack in the universe. A door opening.
The storm was coming.
And she was ready.
The storm swallowed them whole.
Rain came down in sheets, cold and relentless, soaking through Shiv's clothes in seconds. She stood at the mouth of the tunnel, gasping, her chest heaving, her legs trembling with exhaustion. Beside her, Nikita and Letta huddled together, their dark hair plastered to their faces, their storm-grey eyes wide with fear and relief and something that looked like hope.
Lightning split the sky. Thunder followed, close enough to feel in their bones.
"We need to go back," Shiv said.
Nikita turned to her. "What?"
"The other prisoners." Shiv wiped rain from her eyes. "We can't leave them in there."
"We barely got out ourselves—"
"I know." Shiv's voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "But I'm not leaving people to rot in that place. Not when I know what's down there."
Letta made a sound—something between a sob and a laugh. "You're insane."
"Probably."
The brush moved.
Not wind. Not rain. Something else. Something that parted the undergrowth with purpose, with intention, with the kind of precision that came from people who'd spent years learning to move unseen.
Shiv's hands came up. Lightning crackled at her fingertips.
Then she saw them.
Brigid emerged first, her red hair dark with rain, her green eyes blazing with a fury that Shiv recognized immediately. Relief flooded her face when she saw her mother—real relief, the kind that crumbled walls and dissolved years of worry—but then her gaze shifted to Nikita and Letta, and the relief curdled into something harder.
The rest of the strike team followed.
Bethany Xander-MacDougal, her charcoal suit somehow still crisp despite the downpour, her spiky white-blonde hair flattened to her skull. She carried no visible weapon, but the air around her hummed with restrained power.
Kim Powers came next, her dark hair pulled back in a tight braid, a curved sword strapped across her back. Her hazel eyes swept the scene with the cold assessment of someone who'd been trained to kill and had made peace with it.
Maryam followed her sister, a Louisville Slugger resting on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She wore a backwards baseball cap and a grin that said she was enjoying this far more than she should.
Rainbor pushed through the brush last. Seven feet tall, green-skinned, built like a mountain. He carried an axe that would have been too heavy for most humans to lift. His face—the same face that smiled from every candy wrapper in the world—was set in grim determination.
Behind them came Stacy Steinberg, her silver-streaked hair pulled back, a 9mm holstered at her hip. Thirty years of interdimensional business had taught her to be ready for anything.
Katie Manelli bounced on her heels, her gray van parked somewhere behind her, her explosion-sticker-covered jacket rattling with every movement. She looked exactly the same as she had twenty years ago, which was either miraculous or terrifying.
Vivian Chace hung back, her red hair a beacon in the storm, shadows curling around her shoulders like living things. Dale Foster stood beside her, his blue eyes intense, his hand resting on the small of her back.
And at the center of them all, small and unassuming, stood Marty O'Connor. Shiv's grandson. Johnny's boy. His red hair was slicked to his forehead, his blue eyes bright with concentration, his hands still extended as if he'd just closed a door.
"Mam," Brigid said.
Her voice cracked. She took a step forward, then stopped.
Nikita and Letta pressed closer to Shiv.
Brigid's eyes snapped to them. Her face went hard—the kind of hard that Shiv recognized, that she'd seen a hundred times in the mirror, that she'd instilled in her daughter through decades of surviving things that should have killed her.
"Who are they?"
"Brigid—"
"They're wearing Consortium uniforms. That makes them enemies."
"They're the reason I'm still alive." Shiv stepped between her daughter and the two girls. "These young women made mistakes. They helped me escape. I'm helping them."
Brigid's jaw tightened. Her hands curled into fists.
"They tortured you."
"No." Shiv shook her head. "They watched. They stood by. But they didn't hurt me. They were as trapped as I was, just in different ways."
"They—"
"Brigid Moira." Shiv's voice went soft, but there was iron underneath. "I said I'm helping them."
The silence stretched. Rain hammered the ground. Thunder rolled in the distance.
Brigid's shoulders sagged.
"Fine," she said. "For now."
"That's all I ask."
"We need to move." Brigid gestured to the team. "We have a window. Marty opened a warp—it's holding, but it won't hold forever. We need to get you back to Miami before—"
"No."
Brigid blinked. "What?"
"I'm not leaving." Shiv straightened, ignoring the ache in her joints, the exhaustion that pulled at her bones. "There are other prisoners in there. We need to rescue them."
"What other prisoners?"
Before Shiv could answer, the ground shook.
It wasn't an earthquake. It wasn't thunder. It was something deeper, something older, something that rumbled up from the roots of the mountain and rattled every bone in every body standing in that clearing.
Maryam grabbed Kim's arm to steady herself. "What the fuck was that?"
The tremor passed. The storm continued. Somewhere in the distance, a tree cracked and fell.
Shiv's blood ran cold.
"That," she said, "was either the Heretic or the Shine."
She hoped it was the Heretic.
The Heretic was human—or human enough. Old and powerful and dangerous in ways that made the Consortium tremble, but human. Human she could work with. Human she could reason with. Human she could fight, if it came to that.
The Shine wasn't human.
She didn't know what the Shine was. She'd felt it, though—down there in the dark, in the depths of the mountain, something had brushed against her mind. Something vast and patient and hungry. Something that had been waiting for a very, very long time.
The dreams. The other prisoners had mentioned them. Dreams of light pouring from a closed door. Dreams of stepping through and never coming back.
She'd had one herself. Just one. But it had been enough.
"Mam." Brigid's voice pulled her back. "What's the Shine?"
"Something I don't want to meet."
"Is that why we need to leave?"
"No." Shiv turned to face the mountain, the dark tunnel mouth, the storm that raged above it. "That's why we need to move fast."
"Wait—"
"Listen to me." Shiv faced the team, and something in her voice, something in her bearing, made them all go still. "There are prisoners in that facility. Humans, mostly. People who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. People who asked the wrong questions or knew the wrong things. They don't deserve to be there."
"We came here to rescue you—"
"Then rescue me." Shiv's green eyes flashed. "By helping me do what I need to do. By helping me save people who can't save themselves."
Kim spoke up. "That's not why we're here."
"I know why you're here. Felicity gave you intelligence. Jan cross-referenced it. Marty opened a door." Shiv looked at each of them in turn. "But I'm the one who's been inside. I'm the one who's seen what they're doing. And I'm telling you that we can't just walk away."
Rainbor shifted his weight. The axe handle creaked.
"How many prisoners?"
"I don't know. Dozens, maybe. Maybe more."
"Can we get them out?"
"I think so." Shiv turned to Nikita. "Tell them what you told me."
Nikita's voice trembled when she spoke. "The facility has multiple levels. The prisoners are held in the lower sections—old cells that were built before the Consortium took over. There are guards, but not many. The storm has disrupted the power. They'll be running on backup systems."
Letta nodded. "The main exit is through the tunnels we just came through. But there's a secondary exit—a maintenance shaft on the north side. If we can get the prisoners there—"
"We'd need a distraction." Kim was already planning, her eyes distant. "Something big enough to pull the guards away from their posts."
Katie grinned. "I've got some ideas."
"Of course you do."
"This is insane." Stacy shook her head. "We don't have enough people. We don't have enough time. And we don't know what's down there."
"I know what's down there." Shiv's voice was quiet. "And that's exactly why we can't leave."
She looked at Brigid.
"You don't have to come with me. You can take the girls and go. I won't hold it against you."
Brigid's face twisted. "I'm not leaving you."
"Then help me."
Another silence. The storm raged. The mountain waited.
Brigid looked at Bethany. Bethany looked at Kim. Kim looked at Rainbor, who nodded. She looked at Maryam, who shrugged. She looked at Vivian and Dale, who stood together, silent and ready.
"Fine," Brigid said finally. "But if we die down there, I'm going to be very angry with you."
Shiv laughed. A real laugh. It surprised her.
"I'd expect nothing less."
She turned to the tunnel. The darkness stared back at her, patient and hungry.
"Let's go."
Marty stepped forward. His hands were already moving, tracing patterns in the air. The space between him and the tunnel bent, warped, shimmered.
"I can stabilize the warp," he said. "But I need to stay here. I can't come with you."
"I know." Shiv pulled him into a hug. He smelled like rain and magic and youth. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." He pulled back, and his eyes were older than his years. "That thing you mentioned. The Shine. I can feel it from here."
"Can you?"
"It's pulling at me. Like a tide."
Shiv's blood ran cold. "You should go back. Now. Don't wait."
"I won't."
He didn't ask if she was sure. He didn't tell her this was a bad idea. He just stepped back, his hands moving again, and the warp stretched wider.
The team moved into the tunnel.
Shiv was the last to follow.
She stood at the threshold, rain pounding against her back, lightning splitting the sky above.
"This is a mistake," Nikita whispered beside her.
"Maybe." Shiv stepped forward. "But it's the right mistake."
The darkness swallowed them.
---
The compound was chaos.
The storm had reached it. Lightning struck the mountain's lightning rods again and again, sending cascades of sparks down the steep slopes. Power flickered. Alarms blared. Guards ran in every direction, shouting orders that no one followed.
Shiv moved like a ghost. Twenty years of survival had taught her to be quiet, to be invisible, to slip through the cracks in the world's attention. Her daughters had learned the same lessons. The rest of the team—the ones who hadn't—followed her lead anyway.
They descended through the tunnels. Past the maintenance shaft. Past the junction where they'd fought the guards. Past the cells where Shiv had been held.
The first prisoner they found was a man—elderly, wizened, his face a map of scars and suffering. He huddled in the corner of his cell, his eyes wide with fear.
"It's okay," Shiv said. "We're getting you out."
He stared at her. "Who—"
"Someone who owes a debt."
They freed him. They freed three others on that level. A woman with horns, a young man with scales, a child—a god, Shiv realized—who couldn't have been more than twelve.
"How many?" Brigid asked.
"I don't know." Shiv's jaw was tight. "But we're not leaving until we've got them all."
The second level was worse. The cells here were smaller. The prisoners were older. Wiser. They knew what was coming.
"You're making a mistake," one of them said. An old woman with white eyes and a voice like wind through dead leaves. "The Shine is waking up."
"We're aware."
"Are you? Are you really?"
Shiv met her gaze. "Yes."
The woman laughed. It was a dry, rattling sound. "Then you're braver than the last group."
"What last group?"
But the woman just shook her head and didn't answer.
The ground shook again.
This time, it was stronger. The walls cracked. Dust rained from the ceiling. Somewhere above them, something screamed—not human, not quite, but close enough to make everyone freeze.
"What was that?" Maryam gripped her bat.
Shiv didn't answer.
She was too busy looking at the wall.
A crack had opened—a long, jagged fissure that ran from the ceiling to the floor. Light poured through it. Golden light. Warm light. Beautiful, terrible, hungry light.
The Shine.
"Don't look at it," Shiv said.
But it was too late.
One of the prisoners—the child, the god—had already turned. His eyes were wide. His mouth was open. He took a step toward the crack, then another, then another.
"No!" Shiv lunged. Grabbed him. Pulled him back.
He struggled. Screamed. Fought her with a strength that belied his age.
"It's beautiful," he sobbed. "Let me go. I want to go."
"You can't."
"I want to."
"You can't."
She held him. Rocked him. Whispered into his ear—and it was terrifying, it was always terrifying, but she couldn't, wouldn't, let go. Not of him. Not of anyone.
"I've got you," she said. "I've got you."
He crumpled.
The light throbbed. Pulled. Hungry. Then Brigid found her arm, dragged her back, got her moving—
"We need to go. Now."
They ran.
---
The clearing was a war zone.
Marty stood at the center, his hands still extended, the warp stretching wide behind him. Rain lashed down. Lightning cracked. The storm was louder than ever—so loud that Shiv couldn't hear her own thoughts.
But she heard the roar.
It came from the tunnel behind them—a sound like the earth splitting open. She turned just in time to see the entrance collapse, dust and debris exploding outward.
The mountain was sealing itself off.
The Shine was waking up.
"Go!" Stacy grabbed Shiv's arm. "We need to go!"
They ran. The team. The prisoners. The two girls who had started this and changed everything. They ran through the rain, through the storm, through the mud and the muck and the chaos.
Marty's warp held. Barely. The edges flickered, crackled, threatened to collapse. He held it open with nothing but willpower and stubbornness, and Shiv loved him for it.
She crossed the threshold.
---
The Miami house was warm.
The transition was jarring—rain to sun, cold to heat, death to life. Shiv stood in the living room of her beachfront house, dripping on the hardwood floor, gasping for air.
Around her, the team scattered. The prisoners were guided to couches and chairs. Nikita and Letta stood together, holding hands like children lost in a crowd.
Brigid was beside her in an instant.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
Shiv looked down. Her hands were cut. Her arm was scraped. She hadn't noticed.
"It's nothing."
"Mam—"
"Brigid." Shiv caught her daughter's face between her palms. "I'm fine. We're fine. We did it."
Brigid's eyes filled with tears.
"You scared me."
"I know."
"Don't do it again."
"I can't promise that."
They stood there, mother and daughter, water pooling at their feet.
And then the ground shook.
Not Miami. Not the house. The connection was severed—she could feel it, the warp collapsing behind them, Marty's power finally giving out.
The storm was still raging.
But they were alive.
They were all alive.
Shiv pulled Brigid close. Held her. Felt her daughter's heart beating against her own.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For coming."
Brigid pulled back. Wiped her eyes.
"Don't thank me yet," she said. "We still have to figure out what the hell is going on."
Shiv laughed. Despite everything. She laughed.
"One thing at a time."
She turned to the prisoners. To Nikita and Letta. To the team who'd risked their lives to save her.
She had work to do.
But for now—for this moment—she was home.
And that was enough.