Page 38 of Echo: Burn
The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken things. Cray breathes steady on the gurney, kept alive by machines and my medical intervention. In a few hours, Kane will hurt him. Will extract information with whatever means necessary. And I'll be okay with that because the alternative is dying.
"Come on," I say finally. "You've got two hours before he wakes up. That's two hours you could be sleeping instead of staring at him."
"Can't sleep."
"Neither can I." The words come easier than they should. "So let's not sleep together."
Kane's eyes find mine, and I see the want there. The need. The same hunger that's been building since that moment in his quarters before Tommy's comm interrupted.
"Willa...”
"Don't." I step closer. "Don't tell me this is a mistake. Don't tell me we shouldn't. Don't tell me all the tactical reasons why wanting each other is a bad idea."
"It is a bad idea."
"I don't care." My free hand finds his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the tactical vest. "I've spent six years being careful. Being smart. Making all the right choices to stay safe and alive. And where did that get me? Alone. Scared. Waiting for the next attack."
"I'm not safe." His hand covers mine. "I'm not the good choice."
"I know." I lean closer. "You're a man with a kill count who's about to torture someone for information. You've got scars that should have killed you and demons that probably should. You live in a cave because the world above ground wants you dead. You're the worst possible choice I could make."
"Then why...”
"Because you came for me." The truth tastes like freedom. "Because you didn't have to, and you did anyway. Because when everyone else looked at me and saw a liability, you saw someone worth protecting. Because you're the first person in six years who's made me feel something other than afraid."
His thumb traces across my knuckles. "What do you feel?"
"Alive." The word comes out rough. "For the first time since I ran from Chicago, I feel alive. And I don't want to waste that. Don't want to spend another night lying alone in the dark wondering what if."
Kane's silent for a long moment. Then: "If we do this—if we cross this line—there's no going back. You understand that?"
"I understand." My heart pounds against my ribs. "I understand that tomorrow you might die fighting the Committee. That I might die. That we're both marked for execution and living on borrowed time. I understand all of it, Kane. And I'm done letting fear make my choices."
He studies my face like he's memorizing it. Like he's cataloging every detail in case this is the last time he gets to look.
Then he moves.
His hand slides into my hair, pulling me close as his mouth finds mine. The kiss is nothing gentle—it's weeks of tension, days of danger, hours of wanting something we both knew we shouldn't have. It's the taste of survival and the promise of something more.
I kiss him back with everything I've got. With six years of loneliness and fear and wondering if anyone would ever see past the broken parts to the woman underneath. With the knowledge that this might be all we get—one stolen moment before the world intrudes again.
His other hand finds my waist, pulling me flush against him. I feel the tactical vest, the weapons, the muscle beneath. Feel the evidence that he's real and solid and here.
"Not here," he says against my mouth, voice rough. "Not with him watching."
I glance at Cray's unconscious form. Right. Even sedated, the idea of being intimate with an enemy ten feet away feels wrong.
Kane's hand finds mine, and we're moving. Through corridors I'm starting to recognize. Past the operations center where Tommy's bent over his keyboards, too focused to notice us pass. Down to the quarters Kane gave me—his quarters, I realize now. His private space that he's sharing because it's the safest place in the base.
The door closes behind us. Locks with a solid click.
And then it's just us.
Kane cups my face with both hands, thumbs tracing my cheekbones. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." I reach for his tactical vest, fingers finding the straps. "Are you?"
"I've been sure since I saw you stitch my head wound with steady hands while the Committee was hunting you." He helps me with the vest, letting it drop to the floor. "Since you refused to run when the smart play was running. Since you looked at my scars and didn't flinch."
