Truly Theirs

Chapter 18

Liam’s POV

Liam sat at the edge of the bed, a worn notebook resting on his knees, pen tapping softly against the paper.

Everyone else was still asleep. The house was still.

For the first time in what felt like years, his mind was too.

He didn’t write strategy or lists anymore. No check-ins, backup plans, no tactical maps.

Just this:

“Ethan is safe.

We are safe.

I am enough.”

He stared at the words. Let them exist. Let himself believe them.

He’d been the protector for so long, wired to expect the worst. He hadn’t realized how heavy it had become the responsibility, the fear of failure, the need to be the wall.

But this trip, this cabin, these people… had shown him something quieter.

Not everything good had to be guarded like a fortress.

Some things were meant to be lived in.

He closed the notebook, exhaled, and just sat there in the early light, letting peace take root.

Moments later in the living room

“Da-dee?”

Liam looked up to see Ethan padding in with one sock and his lion upside down in his grip. His hair was a mess of curls and sleep, his eyes squinty but awake.

“Hey, buddy.”

Ethan walked over, crawled into his lap without hesitation, and curled against his chest. “We gonna make pancakes?”

Liam kissed the top of his head. “We can do anything you want today.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Ethan pulled back to look at him seriously. “Even go outside without a jacket?”

Liam chuckled. “Wild man. We’ll negotiate that one.”

Footsteps stirred from the bedroom—Noah’s voice mumbling, Nadyia’s laughter half-asleep and full of love.

Liam wrapped his arms around his son, his family waking up around him, and knew:

This was it.

The world he’d fought for.

Not perfect. Not bulletproof.

But real.

And fully his.

Family POV

The sun filtered through the trees like golden lace, dappling the path as it wound down to the lake. Birds called to one another through the canopy, and the scent of pine and warm earth filled the air.

Ethan was everywhere.

One moment he was crouched over a mossy rock, the next he was charging through a patch of wildflowers with lion held high, yelling, “ADVENTURE SQUAAAAD!”

Liam jogged after him, mock-serious. “You have to stay close to the group, sir! It’s high-risk bunny territory.”

“BUNNIES!” Ethan squealed and immediately bolted in the opposite direction.

“You’re not helping,” Noah muttered with a grin, holding out a hand to steady Nadyia as she stepped over a root.

“That’s fine,” she said, smiling wide. “This is the first time we’ve let him run without scanning the perimeter. I’ll take it.”

They walked together through the trail that circled the lake, boots crunching softly against the dirt. Every so often, Ethan would dash ahead and then race back, cheeks flushed, arms windmilling.

At the lake’s edge, he stopped, wide-eyed. “It’s SO BIG.”

“It’s the whole world when you’re his size,” Noah murmured, crouching beside him.

“Can we throw stuff in it?” Ethan asked.

“Absolutely,” Liam said, already picking up a smooth stone.

For the next fifteen minutes, they launched rocks into the water, each plunk and ripple met with more laughter than the last.

Nadyia pulled out her camera halfway through and began quietly snapping shots Noah holding Ethan’s hand, Liam spinning him in a slow circle, the sunlight catching their hair and their laughter like a secret she wanted to keep forever.

Eventually, they collapsed onto the dock, sun-warm and barefoot, toes dangling over the edge.

Ethan leaned his head against Noah’s shoulder, lion clutched in one fist, eyes heavy-lidded but still fighting sleep.

“Think we can stay here forever?” he mumbled.

“Not forever,” Nadyia said gently. “But long enough to remember how it feels.”

Liam looked at her, then at Noah, then down at Ethan.

“Long enough to make this part of us,” he added.

The wind shifted through the trees.

Nothing chased them now.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime no one looked over their shoulder.

Later that night the flames whispered and cracked, their glow painting gold across faces still sun-kissed from the day.

Ethan was fast asleep inside, curled into a blanket burrito with his lion tucked under his chin.

Outside, the grownups sat close to the fire, their chairs drawn in tight, mugs warm in their hands.

Noah stared into the fire for a long time. He hadn’t said much since dinner.

Liam passed him a marshmallow, skewered and slightly singed. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Noah said softly. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Nadyia shifted, her hand resting lightly over his. “We’re here if you want to talk.”

The silence held. Not pressured. Just present.

Finally, Noah exhaled through his nose and looked at the fire again.

“I think I blamed myself,” he said. “Not just for the kidnapping… for all of it.”

Liam and Nadyia stayed quiet. Listening.

“When Ethan was born, I told myself I had to be the strong one. Not the smartest. Not the leader. Just the one who never broke. I thought if I was that guy, nothing bad would happen.”

The flames danced.

“But then it did. And I didn’t stop it. And I saw you bot Liam, when you froze. Nadyia, when you collapsed. And I felt like I couldn’t let go, because if I did, none of us would make it.”

His voice cracked just slightly.

“I didn’t realize I’d been holding that fear in my body for so long.”

Nadyia reached out, threading her fingers through his. “You didn’t fail us.”

Liam leaned closer, eyes shining. “You carried us.”

Noah let out a shaky breath, and for the first time, let the tears come.

Not broken tears. Not collapsing. Just a slow unraveling of tension that had lived inside him too long.

He wiped his face and gave a half-laugh. “We really lived through hell, didn’t we?”

“And came out the other side,” Nadyia said.

Liam raised his mug. “To not being haunted anymore.”

Noah smiled and tapped his against theirs. “To breathing again.”

They leaned back, watching the stars blink open above them.

Around them, the woods were still. Safe.

And inside Noah’s chest, something let go.

He didn’t need to carry the fear anymore.

He had a family for that now.

The sunrise was slow and deliberate, filtering through the trees like a secret being shared.

Nadyia sat alone on the porch swing, a knit blanket around her shoulders, coffee in hand. Everyone else was still asleep. Even the birds were just beginning to stir.

The quiet wasn’t heavy now. It didn’t feel like waiting for the next blow.

It felt like belonging.

She watched the golden mist rise off the grass, the gentle sway of the trees, the way the cabin breathed with peace.

And she let herself remember.

The moment she got the call.

Ethan’s blanket on the floor.

Liam’s face when he froze.

Noah’s voice shouting orders through his own fear.

The nights she didn’t sleep.

The sound of her own heartbeat, faster than her thoughts.

And then—the return.

The sob in her throat when Ethan was finally in her arms again.

The way Liam and Noah held her like she was still breaking, even when she smiled.

The way they’d never stopped holding her, even now.

A tear slid down her cheek, not sharp. Not sudden.

Gentle. Healing.

She set her mug aside, pulled out her sketchbook, and finally turned to the page she’d been avoiding since the day they arrived.

She began to draw.

Not the fear.

Not the fire.

But the image of Ethan in the wildflowers, arms outstretched, lion dangling from his hand, mouth wide in laughter.

The moment she knew he was really okay.

The moment she was, too.

When Liam stepped out behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, she leaned into him.

Noah followed soon after, rubbing sleep from his eyes and smiling at the sight of them.

“You good?” he asked softly.

Nadyia looked down at the sketch and nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m finally ready to go home.”

“Not because we have to,” Liam murmured. “But because we can.”

She smiled. “Exactly.”

From inside the cabin, Ethan’s voice rang out:

“WHO WANTS PANCAKES?!”

Laughter followed.

The day began.

And Nadyia knew whatever came next, they would face it together.

Not surviving.

Living.

The SUV moves smoothly down the highway, windows cracked, sunlight painting their faces.

Ethan sings off-key in the back seat, lion riding shotgun in his lap.

Nadyia rests her head on Noah’s shoulder. Liam’s hand is on the wheel, relaxed, not scanning every mirror. The radio hums low. The mood: light, steady, whole.