Page 98 of Dagger

But his gaze flicked up and stuck.

Lechuza hadn’t moved.

Her hand was still on Flash’s chest, light but firm, like she could will the guy to stay conscious with just her touch.

Hell. That was… something.

Twister gave her an admiring look. “You did a good job stemming the flow of the blood. This plasma should fix him up. Now, let's see to that wound.”

There was an undeniable charge between them. A current sparking in the blood-soaked silence, something primal and fierce. Not lust. Not just attraction. No, this was that soul-deep kind of tether Brawler didn’t even pretend to understand.

His chest tightened. Shit. Maybe he didn’t want to understand it.

Because when he looked across the room and caught Quinn and Dagger, just sitting there, not even touching, just looking at each other like the rest of the damn world had ceased to exist, it hit him harder than it should’ve.

That was love. Not just sex. Not just tension.

Real. Raw. Ground-shaking love.

Fuck if it didn’t make something inside him ache in ways he didn’t like to examine.

He shook it off, grumbling under his breath. “All this goddamn romance in the air, I’m gonna be buying flowers and chocolates and not know the fucking reason why.”

Flash chuckled. “Don’t make me laugh, you idiot.”

Twister crouched beside Flash, checking vitals, said, “Now you know the blood loss fun I went through,” he muttered. “Twice.”

Flash gave a weak grin. “I don’t intend to make a habit out of it like you, brother.”

Brawler chuckled, but it hit hollow.

Tex approached Dagger. “All clear?”

Dagger nodded, but his voice was rough. “Langford’s down. Herrera too. It’s over.”

Not really. Not for Dagger. Not for any of them.

Tex’s eyes drifted to Quinn, arms wrapped tight around herself, staring at Dagger like he was the only solid thing left holding her up. Tex nodded once, firm and final. “Then let’s bring everyone home.”

Brawler rose, scanning the room again. Yeah. Home sounded damn good. But for the first time in a long time, he wondered what that even meant anymore.

Quinn didn’t knowhow they made it back to the compound. Didn’t remember if she walked or floated.

Her body was bruised, sore, covered in dust and sweat and dried blood, but none of it compared to what she felt inside.

She should have collapsed. Should have curled into a ball and shut out the world after the chaos, the betrayal, the gunfire, the fear.

But instead, she stood in the quiet room, her skin still buzzing, her breath shallow, and felt the fire inside her rise.

Dagger stood just across from her, stripped to his waist, his chest heaving with exhaustion and fury and something deeper, something she saw now with stunning clarity.

Not just desire.

Devotion.

He didn’t move. Just looked at her like she was something sacred and scorched and impossible to look away from.

“Say something,” he whispered.

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