Page 175 of Mission Shift

“Damn right,” Conan said. “Boy or girl, they’ll learn to throw a punch and run their mouth.”

We sat back and let the moment settle around us—laughing and teasing as shock turned into joy.

Then the conversation drifted to the wedding. Sam looked happier than I had ever seen her—and visibly relieved.

“I can’t believe you made it back in time,” she said to me, eyes soft. “I was a day away from canceling. And with everything all set to go, it would’ve been a crime.”

Atticus rolled his eyes. “We would’ve rescheduled.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that now, thank God,” she said. “I can’t wait to go to Hawaii for two full weeks. I earned that damn vacation.”

“That’s right, and my little buddy Murphy is staying with me,” Conan piped up excitedly.

“Yeah, I think he loves you more anyway,” Sam said with a dramatic huff.

Conan grinned. “We bonded over a shared experience.”

Sam threw a pillow at him. “Gross.”

The jest landed with everyone but Daria. I kissed her on the cheek. “Trust me, that’s a story for another time.”

Eventually, it got late. Conan stood and helped Anastasia to her feet, then gave each of us a hug before heading for the door. Daria pulled Angel in for another quick embrace. “We’re gonna talk tomorrow,” she said. “Just us.”

“Deal,” Angel replied, pressing a hand to her belly with a small smile.

When the door shut behind them, the house went quiet.

Atticus stood and stretched. “All right, come on. Let’s get you two settled.”

He led us upstairs to the guest suite. Handsome trailed behind us, his claws clicking softly against the hardwood.

“Thanks again,” I said as we stepped into the room. “The guy subletting my place still has a few months on his lease.”

Atticus waved it off. “You’re good here. But you know what you should do?”

“What’s that?”

“Move into Anastasia’s estate. They’ve got more room than they know what to do with. And it’d be perfect for your beast—I meandog.” He nodded toward Handsome.

The dog huffed once and flopped onto the rug.

Daria rolled her eyes.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “After the wedding.”

“Good night,” Atticus said with a wave of his hand, and he shut the door behind him.

We were finally alone. I glanced over at Daria. She was already stripping out of her clothes, letting out a long breath as she moved toward the bed.

Home. We weren’t there yet. But we were getting closer.

Chapter forty-seven

Daria was tucked against me, one leg slung over mine, her breath steady and warm against my chest. The light filtering through the window told me it was morning, but I wasn’t ready to move. Not yet.

It had been two days since we’d arrived in Tacoma, and we were already falling into a rhythm with those whose lives were entwined with ours. We had spent almost every moment helping with the wedding. It was a happy distraction for Daria, as she adjusted to her new life here. Last night, I’d made love to her, just as I did most nights. Neither of us, it seemed, could get enough of the other.

I liked waking up before her. It gave me time to study her without making her feel awkward. As I traced slow circles across her back, just under the curve of her shoulder blade, Iscrutinized the wound from where I’d removed the toxin-filled capsule. The skin on the back of her arm had mostly healed, but it had left a fairly nasty scar. There were lots of scars across her body—some old, some new—marks from people who I’d love nothing more than to murder. That wasn’t in the cards, but I wished I could. I would spend the rest of my life trying to heal the scars unseen.

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