AMIDST THE CATS' CRADLE - 12

C H A P T E R T W E L V E - - - - G W E N

As she saw the Allen twins turn around and each pick up a child—Duncan in Mitch's arms and Dawson in Jordan's—Gwen felt her heart catch in her throat. The infants quickly fell silent in their fathers' arms, and Gwen was unable to refute what she already knew. said her boys resembled their fathers greatly. She simply wasn't aware of how much until she saw them together.

She turned on the light, and the nursery was illuminated by the low dimmer. She lived in a little apartment with two rather modest bedrooms and a living room/kitchen that had been wrecked by uninvited guests. The children in Mitch and Jordan's laps completely absorbed their attention as they sank into the couch in the room's corner.

Gwen admired what she saw. Her children were with their fathers, just as she had always imagined it should be. Although it hadn't been that long since she'd last seen the Allens, a lot had happened in her life since then that it may as well have been. It most certainly felt like way.

"They're yours. Duncan and Dawson," she eventually whispered, knowing they knew but wanting to say it for her own sake.

"You don't say," Mitch said, grinning.

"If it looks like an Allen and growls like an Allen, it's probably an Allen," Jordan added as he ruffled Dawson's already thick hair.

“Gwen! What exactly is going on here? " Marta, her nanny, called with a strained voice.

Gwen exclaimed, recalling leaving the woman heaving in the living room, absolutely stunned by what had happened to her. Gwen dashed to the door, only to find Marta still on the sofa, her eyes crimson and her cheeks on fire.

"How could they have done it to me?" she questioned, her voice shaking.

Gwen lied, biting her tongue, "I don't know, Marta."

She couldn't tell her mild-mannered babysitter down the hall that the youngsters she'd been sitting and fawning over how quickly they were developing were something like to superweapons, desired by more evil individuals than Gwen could count. Gwen had been under the impression that the only individuals who knew anything about her infants were those in The Firm. The "nice dudes."

"Come on, I'll take you to your flat," she said quietly as she moved forward.

Marta's gaze was now locked on the two dead bodies on the hardwood floor, blood pooling around them and nearly touching her feet. There was dread in her eyes, genuine panic, and Gwen wondered that any sensible words could ever reach her.

"We need to contact the cops!  What if they come back? And who are those... guys with you? ”

God forbid. This was unnecessary for me.

She took her phone from her pocket and, ignoring Marta's onslaught of inquiries, phoned the one number she'd been taught to call if something like this happened. She heard a click on the other end of the line and, not expecting a greeting, whispered quietly into the phone.

"It's Gwen Neeson. At my location of residence, there was an attack. Subjects are safe; cleaning is required. Apartment 34A has a civilian engaged."

She hung up just in time to see Jordan standing behind her, Dawson on his hip. His eyes conveyed a million messages, and Gwen could tell he was aware of what had just happened. She wasn't sure if he judged her for it or not.

"Marta, you need to get back into your apartment right now," Jordan stated, his voice commanding, so much so that Dawson looked at him with wide eyes, hushed into quiet. "There will be those who want to speak with you. They will ensure your safety. The cops have been called."

Marta averted her gaze from the horrible image and nodded slowly, as if the words had taken some time to sink in. Gwen approached her and grabbed her hand in hers, assisting her up and past the remains of the two Arctics operatives. As she approached the door, she cast a peek at Jordan, but he nodded his assent, and Gwen returned Marta to her apartment. The elder woman was stunned into silence, the color of her face already fading.

They were still in the apartment when Gwen and the twins arrived, thanks to a strange act of kindness on the part of The Arctics who decided to tie her up rather than murder her instantly. When she considered what may have occurred if they had arrived later or if the agents had chosen to kill Marta in cold blood, her insides wrenched.

She virtually sprinted back to her flat, and despite the fact that it was just a few doors down from Marta's, every second away from her newborn sons was excruciating. The Allens greeted her at the door, each with a baby bag over their shoulder and one of the boys in their dads' arms, blissfully delighted. "Come on, come on. "We're heading back to headquarters," Mitch remarked as he closed the door behind him.

"There are no objections. We can have a conversation there. "A car will be down in a minute," Jordan said, taking her hand in his own.

She felt a searing, constant heat spread through her, robbing her of words once more. She had forgotten what it was like to be in contact with one of them—fire and ice, a kaleidoscope of feelings. Her eyes began to dance with memories of their romantic night together, and she silently followed along without complaining or objecting.

While promised, a car was already waiting downstairs, with a number of agents from The Firm that Gwen had never seen before loading into the backseat with their gear as Mitch, Jordan, and Gwen took their positions.

The cleanup crew, she thought wryly, shuddering slightly.In a few hours, it would be as if nothing at all had happened in her apartment and Marta would be either bought off or made to relocate somewhere where the things she’d seen couldn’t hurt anyone. Her heart went out to the aging Latina woman, but at least she’d survived and without injury to boot.

I hope this doesn’t ruin her life.

It wasn’t the first time that Gwen had felt that nagging feeling of worry and doubt hit her, like everything she did ended up hurting someone. Her squad, her family, her friends, or even the fathers of her baby boys—it seemed that there could be no right choice, only wrong ones. She missed Jordan’s touch immediately as she took her seat in the car, falling against the upholstery, willing all of this to be a horrible, emotionally confusing rollercoaster.

But it wasn’t.