Page 70 of Carter
For a long moment, I didn’t move. I just listened—to the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, to the soft crackle of the fire burned down to embers, to the silence that finally felt safe.
We’d made it through the night. He’d come back to me.
My hand traced the edge of his shirt, fingers brushing the scar at his side, the new scrape along his shoulder. He shifted a little, eyes still closed, but even in sleep, he tightened his hold on me, pulling me closer.
A small smile tugged at my lips. Even unconscious, he protected me.
The fear was still there, lingering like smoke in the corners of my chest. Redwood wasn’t gone. The fight wasn’t finished. But it felt different now. Less like a shadow pressing down, more like something we’d face together, side by side.
I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heartbeat, whispering into the quiet, “Thank you for coming back.”
His breath caught, though his eyes didn’t open. His hand smoothed over my back, rough and tender all at once. “Always,” he murmured, his voice gravelly with sleep.
Tears pricked my eyes again, but this time they weren’t born of fear. They were from hope, fragile and new, but strong enough to keep me steady.
I tucked myself closer into him, letting the sunlight and his warmth wrap around me.
For the first time since the warehouse, I believed in tomorrow.
Not because it would be easy. But because I wouldn’t face it alone.
109
Carter
The light woke me before the clock did. Pale streaks through the curtains, warm against my face. For once, it wasn’t gunfire or shouting or the thud of boots that pulled me out of sleep—it was her.
Harper was still curled against me, her hair spilling across my chest, her breath steady and soft. My arm was locked around her waist, holding her close, like my body refused to loosen even while I slept.
I let my eyes close again, just for a moment, letting myself feel it. The weight of her against me. The quiet hum of her heartbeat against mine. The fragile peace I hadn’t known in… maybe ever.
I’d been trained to survive on scraps of rest, to live with one eye always open, to trust nothing but my rifle and my team. But with Harper in my arms, the armor slipped. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I wasn’t just surviving. I was living.
Her fingers twitched, brushing against my chest, and I looked down. She stirred, her eyes still closed, her lips curved faintly, as if she were dreaming of something good.God, she was beautiful. Not just in the way she looked, but in the way she made me feel—like I was more than the soldier, more than the scars.
I bent my head and pressed a kiss to her hair, whispering into the quiet, “I’ll keep coming back. Always.”
She shifted, mumbling in her sleep, as if she’d heard me anyway. My chest tightened, a mix of love and fury burning deep. Fury for Redwood, for every hand that had dared touch her, every shadow that thought they could use her. Love for her, because she was the reason I’d survived, the reason I’d fight until my last breath.
The battle wasn’t over. Sable was still out there in chains, and Redwood wouldn’t stop. But this—this moment with her—reminded me what I was fighting for.
Not the mission. Not the orders.
Her. Always her.
110
Carter
The peace of morning didn’t last long. It never did.
I kept Harper close, her breathing soft against my chest, but my eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling. Every scar in me knew what came next. Redwood wouldn’t back off. They’d regroup. They’d come harder.
And we had Sable. Which made us both target and weapon.
I brushed a hand gently down Harper’s back, careful not to wake her. She deserved these minutes of rest. She’d carried more weight than most soldiers ever would. Stronger than she knew.
But my mind was already moving, laying out angles, contingencies, plans.
