Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 60921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Ambitious,” I say.
“Worth it.”
I tuck my head under his chin, snuggling closer until my forehead rests against his chest. His arm tightens around me automatically, the most natural movement in the world.
His heartbeat thuds steady under my ear.
Safe.
Warm.
Here.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, feather-light.
“Sleep, Birdie,” he murmurs. “I’ve got the night shift.”
“You’re allowed to sleep too,” I mumble into his shirt.
“I will,” he says. “Right here. With you.”
My anxiety, which had been hovering at a constant simmer, finally starts to ebb.
The dark outside is still full of unknown threats.
ALFA07/Helios is still out there.
Dean and Arrow and everyone else are still hunting ghosts through code and shadows.
But in this small circle of lamplight and shared body heat, it’s just us. Knight, wrapped around me like armor. Me, wrapped around him like I’ve finally found the place I was trying to hack my way into all along.
Sleep comes easier this time.
And even when my brain tries to spin up worst-case scenarios, the steady weight of his arm around my waist and the warm press of him remind me of one stubborn, glowing fact:
Whatever’s hunting us?
They’re underestimating just how hard two people in love—and yes, I said it, I own it—will fight to keep each other breathing.
Their mistake.
Our advantage.
I fall asleep with his heartbeat in my ear and his promise in my bones.
THIRTEEN
IMPACT TESTING
KNIGHT
I don’t know when worrying about Lark became my default operating system.
Probably around the time she blackmailed her way into our missions.
Definitely by the time I watched her face appear on a bounty board.
Absolutely the second she fell asleep in my arms last night, breathing warm against my chest like I was some kind of security blanket instead of a guy who’s spent most of his life breaking things.
Now it’s morning.
The forest outside the cabin is still damp and gray, mist caught in the trees like cotton. The cabin smells like coffee and pancake mix remnants and the faint citrus of her shampoo.
Lark is at the table in one of my t-shirts, bare legs tucked under her, hair in a messy knot, scrolling through the offline logs we downloaded. The little wrinkle between her brows means she’s thinking hard.
I’m standing by the tiny window, mug in hand, trying not to stare at her like she’s a screensaver I don’t want to turn off.
You’re falling, some traitorous part of me whispers.
Yeah, another part answers. No shit.
It’s not subtle anymore.
It’s not a crush. Not infatuation.
It’s the way my entire body registers her state before my brain does. The way my thoughts run in her direction whenever there’s silence. The way last night’s “I love you” from her replayed in my head until three in the morning like a song I didn’t want to skip.
She looks up, catching me. “What?” she asks.
I take a sip of coffee. “You’re frowning at my logs.”
“Your logs are being stubborn,” she corrects. “Helios is a slippery jerk.”
“Flattered you think they’re mine,” I say. “Pretty sure Dean’s team is doing the heavy lifting on this part.”
She waves a hand. “Details.” She leans back in the chair, stretching, arms over her head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a strip of skin above the waistband of her shorts.
My brain short-circuits for half a second.
Focus, Hayes.
“We’re at an impasse,” she announces. “We’ve followed every thread we can from here. We’ve mapped every node. Until we get a fresh data packet from Arrow, we’re treading water.”
“Treading water is better than drowning,” I say.
“Spoken like someone who’s never treaded water for more than ten minutes.” She scrunches her nose. “I get wrinkly.”
“You get impatient,” I say. “That’s different.”
“Same vibe.” She swivels in the chair to face me fully, bare foot hooking the table leg. “We need to do something else. My brain’s buzzing.”
“You want to run more drills?” I offer. “We could go over the entry points again, run scenarios. Mentally map exit routes if someone comes up that drive—”
“Knight.”
I shut up.
She gives me a look that’s half fond, half exasperated. “You’re already running a thousand scenarios,” she says. “I can see it from over here. I meant me doing something before I start rearranging canned goods by color just to feel alive.”
I snort. “I’m sure Ranger would appreciate the chaos.”
“No, this is like… constructive chaos,” she says. Then her eyes light up. “Ooh. We could train more.”
“We trained yesterday.”
“And? You think bad guys are going to give me a day off?” She stands, motioning toward the small open space we’d cleared yesterday. “Come on. I want to drill until my muscles remember before my brain does.”
I open my mouth to say we should rest. Then I remember the way she reversed my holds yesterday. The satisfaction on her face when she dropped me, the light that came into her eyes when her body did what she’d trained it to do.