Dear Readers,
We've made it to the heart of the war.
This isn't just a fight anymore—it's personal. Every name on that screen, every mission they take on... it's about saving the people they couldn't save before. It's about reclaiming everything that was stolen.
Jeffrie and his crew aren't running. They're rising. And as they move forward—bruised, bleeding, but unbroken—know this:
The bonds they've forged?
They weren't born from peace.
They were forged in fire.
And now, it's their turn to burn Sable's empire to the ground.
Thank you for reading this far. I promise—we're only getting started.
— Shadow Bonds
The briefing room hummed with tension as Jeffrie stood at the front of the makeshift command center, a large display flickering behind him. The team gathered in a loose circle, bruised, bandaged, but ready.
"This is it," he began, voice firm. "We've confirmed twelve targets. All enhanced. All held under Sable's control. And we're bringing them home."
He turned toward the screen as it lit up with names.
"First up—Elliot Kane. I'm taking that one solo."
Ray gave him a sidelong look but said nothing.
"Next, Luis Vega. Ray, that's your mission."
Ray smirked and bumped fists with Trice.
"Then we go in together," Jeffrie continued. "Me and Ray—Adrian and Dante. Double extraction."
Trice leaned forward, already itching to move.
"Toby and Sergei. That one's yours, Trice. You'll lead the op."
Trice nodded once, serious now.
Jeffrie clicked forward again. "Raven—you're handling three: Kai, Jiro, and Ayana Malik."
Raven's eyes narrowed. "Consider it done."
He took a breath, letting the final names sink in.
"The last mission will require the full team. Nia Caldwell. Idris Faheem. Tasha Grant. They're deeper than the others. Heavily guarded. We go in together."
A silence fell. They all knew what that meant. The hardest mission. The final one before they turned their sights fully on Sable.
"Three are still missing," Jeffrie added, his voice lowering. "Zane. Cameron. Ezra King. No confirmed leads. But we're not giving up on them."
Scarlett crossed her arms. "We never do."
Jeffrie looked around the room—at his family, his team, his brothers and sisters-in-arms. He didn't need to ask if they were ready. The fire in their eyes said everything.
The sun had nearly vanished behind the peaks when Jeffrie stepped into the training yard. The cold air nipped at his skin, but sweat had already begun to bead across his shoulders. His fists were wrapped in cloth, old blood still staining the edges from the last fight. The bruises along his ribs pulsed with every movement—but that didn't stop him. Pain was part of the rhythm now.
He struck the reinforced dummy with brutal precision—jab, cross, elbow—each blow faster and sharper than the last. The training unit groaned under the force. He reset his stance, reset his mind.
[Lily's Voice – Private Entry | Shadow Bonds]
We've confirmed twelve.
Twelve people stolen, changed, twisted by Sable's hands.
And we're going to bring them home.
Jeffrie's carrying it all again—I can see it in his eyes. The weight. The fire. He won't let it break him, but I still worry.
Ray cracks jokes like armor. Trice hides behind calm. Azul's fingers haven't stopped shaking since the last mission. Raven's quieter than usual, and that means her thoughts are screaming. And me?
I patch them up. I hold them when they don't want to fall apart. I remind them we're still human beneath all the scars.
But when we stand together... something happens.
Something stronger than fear. Stronger than pain.
We move like one.
We are one.
Shadow Bonds.
It started as a name. A code. But now... it's a family.
And this time?
We're not surviving.
We're taking everything back.
— L.
Then he heard the footsteps behind him.
Ray.
"You hit that thing any harder, it's gonna report you to HR," Ray said, voice casual but low.
Jeffrie didn't stop. "Could use the stress relief."
Ray cracked his neck and dropped his jacket onto the bench. "Then let's go. Hit something that matters."
They circled.
Jeffrie moved first—fast and low, testing the angle. Ray deflected, twisted, and countered with a quick jab that grazed Jeffrie's temple. Jeffrie rolled with it, ducked a follow-up hook, and slid behind him, aiming a heel toward Ray's ribs.
Ray spun with it, using the momentum to drop low and sweep Jeffrie's legs out from under him—but Jeffrie leapt back just in time.
The sound of slow clapping echoed through the yard.
Trice strolled in, hoodie unzipped, grinning like a devil. "Yo. Y'all gonna play patty-cake or we throwing hands?"
Ray smirked. "Just warming up."
Trice rolled his shoulders, then stepped into the ring without hesitation. "Cool. Cuz I'm hot."
And just like that, it was three.
Jeffrie lunged—Trice blocked high, palm meeting fist. Ray ducked low, swinging into Jeffrie's blind spot, but Jeffrie twisted and dodged clean. Trice shot a backhand toward Ray, who ducked it and spun away.
Every movement was a dance, choreographed through instinct and trust.
Trice held his ground like a wall—blocking every strike that came his way. Elbows deflected, knees absorbed. His footwork was light, but his counters were heavy. He didn't give ground. Not to Jeffrie. Not to Ray.
Jeffrie, meanwhile, flowed like water—slipping through narrow gaps, sliding under strikes, coming in at odd angles. His breath was tight, ribs protesting, but he didn't let it show. Every dodge was timed to the inch.
Ray played the counter game—always watching, always a beat behind just to land that punishing hit. When Jeffrie swung, Ray parried. When Trice came high, Ray spun and went low. He was everywhere at once, always in motion, always two steps ahead.
They weren't just sparring.
They were testing each other.
Pushing.
Proving.
Jeffrie swept low—Trice jumped it, landed with a stomp, forcing Jeffrie back. Ray moved in with a flurry—two jabs and a spinning elbow—Jeffrie ducked, caught the elbow, used it to pivot and slam a fist toward Trice's gut.
Blocked.
Trice didn't flinch.
Jeffrie's knuckles throbbed.
Then Ray slid between them, catching Jeffrie with a shoulder to the chest, sending him stumbling back.
He grinned. "Slippin', Brudda."
Jeffrie wiped sweat from his brow, smirking. "Just waitin' for you to get tired."
Trice cracked his neck. "Hate to break it to y'all... but none of us are winning this."
They charged again.
This time, it was all instinct—no hesitation. They moved like they were one unit, three forces clashing and colliding, drawing sparks from every strike. Each time one of them gained an edge, the others adapted. Balanced. Paralleled.
Even.
The air was thick with heat and breath and the sound of fists against flesh.
And then—
"Are you out of your damn minds?!"
They froze mid-movement as Lily stormed into the yard.
Ray's fist hovered just inches from Jeffrie's face.
Trice's leg was still raised in a half-spun kick.
Jeffrie's elbow was mid-thrust toward Ray's ribs.
"...Hi, Lily," Trice offered, sheepishly lowering his leg.
She stared at them, hands on her hips, eyes wide with disbelief. "Did I—or did I not—just heal all of you?!"
Ray grinned. "Technically, you patched us."
"Technically, I should knock you out myself. You're lucky I'm too tired to chase you around."
Jeffrie lowered his arms, chest heaving with exhaustion, adrenaline still pulsing. "We're good, Lily. Just—"
"No," she snapped. "You're not good. You're bruised. You're stubborn. And you're all bleeding again, which is gonna undo hours of careful stitching."
Trice held up a finger. "It was light bleeding—"
"Sit. Down. Now."
Jeffrie sighed, exchanging a glance with the others.
Ray raised his hands. "Guess that's game."
"Sit. Down. Now."
Jeffrie exchanged a glance with Trice and Ray. No one moved.
Then the second wave hit.
"Unbelievable."
Nyah's voice rang out as she stormed into the training yard with Naomi at her side, arms crossed, both of them glaring like judgment incarnate.
Ray's grin vanished.
"Uh oh."
"Uh oh is right," Naomi snapped. "We heard the grunting, the shouting, the freakin' shockwaves. What the hell are you three doing fighting like it's the finals of the underground championship?"
"We just got you out of a war zone," Nyah added, eyes locked on Ray. "And your dumbass thought, 'Let's punch my friends in the ribs and reopen my stitches'?"
Ray scratched the back of his neck. "In my defense—"
"There is no defense, Raymond," Naomi cut in. "Unless you want me and Nyah to drag your ass back to the med bay."
Jeffrie was trying not to laugh—until Trice casually leaned back, arms behind his head, cocky as hell.
"Well I'm fine. None of y'all landed anything serious on me."
"Oh, word?"
Izzy stepped in next, long braids swaying, her face a perfect mixture of sass and fury.
Right behind her, Camilla appeared with a fresh cold compress in one hand and gauze in the other.
"You look fine?" Izzy echoed, walking right up to Trice and poking his bruised chest. "This look fine to you, Camilla?"
Camilla smirked. "Nope. Looks like he wants to bleed all over again."
"Exactly," Izzy huffed. "You think just 'cause you're fast, you're invincible? You think we don't notice when you wince every time you laugh too hard?"
Trice winced.
"That," Camilla said pointedly, "right there."
Trice raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Y'all win."
"Damn right," Izzy muttered, then softened slightly. "We just want y'all alive. That too much to ask?"
The energy in the yard shifted.
Jeffrie sank onto the edge of the bench, bruised and quiet. Lily knelt beside him, pressing a fresh wrap against his ribs.
Nyah perched beside Ray, still fuming but slower now.
Camilla and Izzy settled with Trice, checking the bruises they already knew they'd find.
And for a moment, everything was still.
"You know," Ray muttered, "for people who say they love us..."
Naomi raised a brow. "You sayin' you don't feel the love?"
He grinned. "Oh no, I feel it. Mostly in the form of public embarrassment and stern lectures."
Nyah cracked a smile despite herself. "Good. Then you know it's real."
Trice leaned back with a low sigh, glancing over at Jeffrie. "We do this to stay sharp. To remember we still got it. But... they right."
Jeffrie nodded slowly. "Doesn't mean we stop fighting. Just means we stop fighting like we got something to prove."
Ray scoffed. "Speak for yourself."
Naomi smacked the back of his head.
"Ow! Okay, okay, damn..."
They all laughed, even Lily—just a soft sound under her breath.
It didn't erase the bruises.
But it made them easier to carry.
Lily laughed under her breath, soft and sharp like the flame of a candle catching hold.
Jeffrie turned toward her, one hand reaching up to gently brush her cheek. The world slowed for a breath, just long enough for him to lean in and kiss her—slow and deep, a quiet surrender of gratitude and weightless affection.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "Thank you... for holding me together when I don't even realize I'm falling apart."
Lily blinked at him, surprised by the softness in his tone—then her fingers curled around his shirt, pulling him in for one more kiss before finally letting him go with a quiet smile.
Ray, of course, whistled low. "Damn, Brudda setting the bar."
"Oh, so we doing that now?" Trice said, already turning toward Camilla and scooping her up into his lap. She yelped, then smacked his shoulder—but didn't move away.
Nyah raised an eyebrow. "You really tryna out-romance Jeff?"
Ray didn't say a word. He just stood, offered both hands to Naomi and Nyah like a damn prince, and when they took them, he kissed each of their hands like it was a movie scene.
Naomi laughed. "Boy, you cheesy."
"But he cute with it," Nyah added.
The teasing melted into quiet chuckles, soft glances, and shared looks between all of them—like they knew what came next.
Night had fully claimed the sky, and someone—probably Azul—had already set up a fire pit at the edge of the hill overlooking the canyon. Sparks flicked into the air like glowing fireflies, dancing beneath the stars.
The group migrated toward it slowly, a little bruised, a little sore, but something about the fire pulled them in—like it always did.
The warmth welcomed them.
Jeffrie settled on one side, Lily tucked beside him with a blanket over both their shoulders. Ray sprawled out near the flames, arms behind his head, while Nyah and Naomi leaned against each other beside him. Trice leaned back with Camilla resting against his chest, and Izzy perched cross-legged near the fire, poking at the embers with a stick.
Raven sat in silence, cleaning her blades. Scarlett passed her a thermos. Sophia and Azul sat back-to-back, scrolling through maps and file decryptions, though even they took a break for the moment.
It was rare, these pockets of peace.
Jeffrie let the firelight wash over him, golden and quiet.
He glanced around the circle, eyes lingering on each of his people. His family.
"We made it," he said finally.
Ray gave him a look. "Barely."
"But we did," Lily whispered.
They all nodded.
The fire crackled softly in the middle of their makeshift camp, throwing shadows on the weary faces gathered around it. Bandages wrapped knees and shoulders. Burn marks peeked through torn sleeves. But for the first time in days, maybe weeks, there was peace.
Trice poked at the fire with a stick. "Y'all remember that alley in the rain? Back when we were just kids?"
Ray smirked. "You mean the time we got jumped behind that liquor store?"
Jeffrie leaned back against a boulder, a faint grin on his bruised face. "More like the time I saved your asses."
"Whoa, whoa," Ray said, sitting up. "We had that handled."
"Sure," Jeffrie said. "Handled so well you were spitting blood and talking trash with one good eye."
Camilla raised a brow. "Wait, is this when y'all first met?"
"Yeah," Trice said. "Rain was coming down hard. We were surrounded. Then this guy—" he pointed at Jeffrie "—shows up out of nowhere and drops three dudes like it was nothing."
Ray chuckled. "I thought he was a ghost at first."
"I thought y'all were idiots," Jeffrie said.
They all laughed—raw and real. Even the girls couldn't help smiling.
"Still are," Izzy muttered fondly.
Nyah leaned against Ray's side. "But look at you now."
Naomi nodded. "Still throwing hands. Still standing."
"And still talking trash," Jeffrie added.
Ray reached out and fist-bumped him.
Then Trice joined in.
Three fists, united by blood, fire, and too many close calls to count.
And for a long moment, the war disappeared. The pain faded.
They were just three boys who became brothers in the middle of a storm.
Their laughter faded into silence, the fire's crackle the only sound left between them.
Jeffrie stood first, brushing dirt from his palms. His eyes weren't on the fire anymore—they were locked on the horizon, where shadows stretched long and the night whispered of unfinished business.
Lily noticed the shift immediately. She rose with him, concern flickering in her gaze.
"You're not going out there alone," she said softly.
Jeffrie didn't look at her. "I just need air."
"Air doesn't require tactical gear," she countered, arms crossed.
Ray and Trice exchanged a glance, already on their feet, already knowing.
Jeffrie hesitated—then gave a short nod.
⸻
The storm raged like a living beast, howling against the cliffs that concealed the underground facility. Rain lashed against the metal grates above, the distant crash of thunder masking the occasional hum of security drones patrolling the perimeter.
Sophia narrowed her eyes. "At least let someone fly overwatch."
Scarlett tossed him a new comm-link. "Just don't get yourself killed, golden boy."
Azul muttered something about tracking him from a distance, already pulling up satellite feeds on her holopad.
Jeffrie gave a silent nod of gratitude—his way of saying he heard them.
Lily grabbed her med bag without a word and followed him.
The stealth aircraft hovered in silent suspension a few miles off, cloaked beneath the radar net Azul had rigged up.
Inside, Lily sat near the back, her hands clenched around a portable med scanner she hadn't used—yet. Her eyes flicked to the monitor every few seconds, tracking Jeffrie's vitals in real-time.
Trice lounged with arms crossed, foot tapping restlessly against the floor.
Ray stood at the ramp's edge, watching the darkness beyond the open hatch. "He's in position."
"Of course he is," Lily said, voice tight. "Doesn't mean he should be."
Trice sighed. "He wouldn't be Jeff if he didn't walk straight into hell like he was born in it."
Ray glanced back, a ghost of a grin tugging at his lip. "Yeah, but that's why we're here. Backup if he needs it."
Lily didn't answer. She just kept watching that monitor—because no matter how many times Jeffrie promised he'd come back...
She needed to see it for herself.