“If you change your mind,” Trent continued. “If someday you want to be part of her life in whatever way works for you?—“
“I won’t.” Gage’s voice had lost its certainty. “She deserves better.”
He left before either of us could respond. Through the partially open door, I heard Alistair’s quiet murmur, heard Gage’s harsh breathing, heard the sound of him collapsing into a chair in the next room. The door clicked shut softly.
I sat frozen on the bed, my hands clenched in my lap. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Trent crossed the room and knelt in front of me. His hands covered mine, warm and steady.
“You okay?” he asked.
Was I? I’d just had a conversation with the man whose genetic material had been stolen to create my daughter. The man who was dying from the same experiments that gave Sophia her abilities. The man who looked at us both like we were something precious he couldn’t have.
“He’s wrong,” I said finally. “About deserving better. He’s a good man who got hurt.”
“I know.”
“But he’s right about you.” I looked up, meeting Trent’s eyes. “You are her father. In all the ways that matter.”
Trent’s hands tightened on mine. “And you? Are you okay with that?”
Was I? Sophia wasn’t Langston’s. She was mine and Gage’s, created without our knowledge or consent. But she’d been loved and raised by me. Protected and cherished by Trent. Biology didn’t make a family. Choice did.
“I want this,” I said, my voice steadying. “Us. The team. Seattle. I want to stop running and start fighting. I want the family we’ve become.”
Trent rose, pulling me up with him. His arms came around me, solid and sure. I pressed my face into his shoulder and let myself feel it all—the violation, the grief, the relief, the choice.
“We’ll make it work,” he murmured into my hair.
“I know we will.” My voice came out muffled against his shirt. “Because we have before. And we will again.”
He drew back slightly, his hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone, gentle despite the calluses. When I looked up, his eyes held something I’d rarely seen from him. Vulnerability. Hope.
“I need you to know,” he said quietly. “This isn’t just about the team or the mission. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
My breath caught.
“I look at Sophia and I see my daughter. I look at you and I see my future.” His voice roughened. “I want to build something with you. Something permanent.”
The words settled into my chest, warm and certain. “I want that too.”
He leaned down, giving me time to pull away if I wanted. I didn’t. I rose onto my toes, closing the distance between us. When our lips met, it wasn’t desperate or frantic. Just sure. A promise made without words.
His hand slid from my face to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I felt the tension leave my body as I leaned into him, felt his warmth seeping through my borrowed sweater. The kiss deepened, and for a moment we weren’t fugitives in a safe house. We weren’t victims of Innovixus. We were just a man and woman choosing each other amid the chaos.
When we broke apart, I stayed close, my forehead resting against his chin. My hands found his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath my palms.
“Sophia will be happy,” I murmured. “She’s been trying to adopt you since California.”
His quiet laugh rumbled through his chest. “She has?”
“Mmm. Asking if you could live with us. If you could teach her to fish. If you’d be there for her birthday.”
His arms tightened around me. “I’d like that. All of it.”
I pressed my face back into his shoulder, breathing him in. Tomorrow we’d fly to Seattle. Tomorrow we’d start over. But tonight, in this quiet moment, we’d made our choice.
In the next room, Sophia slept on, unaware of the conversation about her future. Unaware that three adults were trying to do right by her despite the nightmare that had brought us all together. Unaware that tomorrow we’d fly to Seattle and start building something new.
Something that looked like family.
