A sound that might be laughter rumbles through his chest. “Smart woman.”
“Smart enough to know you need sleep more than you need to prove how tough you are.”
The bedroom door opens to reveal the same honey-colored wood ceiling and mountain views that greeted Cooper when he first woke up. The bed looks massive after our cramped hiding spots in D.C.—all white linens and down pillows that belong in a luxury resort rather than a safe house.
I help him sit on the edge of the mattress, then kneel to untie his boots. It’s an intimate gesture, taking care of someone this way, and my cheeks warm as I focus on the laces.
“You don’t have to?—”
“Hush.” The word comes out sharper than intended, carrying echoes of the authority he used on me during our escape. “Let me take care of you for once.”
His boots hit the floor with soft thuds. We’ve been intimate, yes, but that was different—heat and desperation and the kind of raw need that burns away self-consciousness. This feels more vulnerable somehow.
I take in the full extent of his injuries. White gauze and medical tape cover the shoulder wound, more bandaging around his ribs where the second bullet grazed him. Purple bruises bloom across his skin like dark flowers.
My fingers trace the edge of one bandage, careful not to disturb the medical tape. “Does it hurt?”
“Less than it did yesterday.”
I help him settle against the pillows, adjusting them until he can recline comfortably without putting pressure on his wounds. When I reach for the blanket, his hand catches mine.
“Stay,” he says simply.
So I do. I settle into the chair beside his bed, our fingersintertwined, and for the first time since this nightmare began, silence feels comfortable instead of threatening.
“I’m glad I got you out alive,” Cooper says, his voice rougher than usual.
The words hit deeper than expected. NotI’m glad we made it out,orI’m glad we survived—he’s glad he saved me. That my life was the priority, the mission objective that mattered most.
“What happens next?” The question comes out smaller than I intend, vulnerability bleeding through despite my efforts to sound composed.
He’s quiet for a long moment, thumb stroking across my knuckles in a rhythm that’s both soothing and hypnotic. “We need to figure that out. It’s not really clear right now. But one thing’s for sure—Phoenix is out there, and it’s still trying to kill you. We need to find a way to make you safe.”
The words settle over me like a cold blanket.Safe. What does that even mean anymore?
“Am I going to have to disappear like Celeste and Ryan?”
“I’m not sure.” His eyes are starting to drift closed, exhaustion finally winning the battle against stubborn determination. “We’ll figure something out. Ghost and the team … They’re good at this stuff.”
His breathing deepens, becomes more regular. The lines of pain around his eyes smooth out as sleep claims him, and I’m left holding the hand of an unconscious warrior who threw himself between me and death without hesitation.
“How did we get here?” I whisper to the empty room. “From you ordering me toMove nowin my office to—this?”
But I know the answer. It’s somewhere between the basement tunnel and the safe house, between his commands and my submission, between the moment I stopped fighting his authority and started trusting it. When protection became partnership and partnership became somethingdeeper.
The room settles into quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment and Cooper’s steady breathing. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the mountain peaks catch the last light of sunset, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that would be beautiful if I could focus on anything other than the man sleeping beside me.
“You know what’s crazy?” I continue my whispered monologue, needing to process out loud even though he can’t hear me. “Three days ago, I was furious when you showed up. Demanding answers, refusing to cooperate, thinking you were just another man trying to boss me around.”
His face is peaceful in sleep, the hard edges of command softened into something vulnerable.
“I had no idea you were going to turn my entire world upside down. Make me want things I only ever fantasized about. Make me feel safe in the middle of the most dangerous situation of my life.”
A soft knock interrupts my rambling. The door opens to reveal Ghost, moving with the careful quiet of someone who doesn’t want to wake a sleeping operative.
“How’s he doing?” Ghost asks, settling into another chair with the easy grace of a man comfortable in any environment.
“Sleeping. Finally.” I don’t let go of Cooper’s hand, and Ghost notices but doesn’t comment. “The doctor said he’d be okay, but I don’t know what that means. How long until he’s back on his feet? How long before Phoenix finds us here?”
