30
Beckett
The desert's quiet settled heavy, the kind that made you feel every breath, every scrape of skin, every unspoken word. I looked around, making sure we didn’t run into a rattlesnake.
Elara leaned against the rock wall, hair loose from its braid, streaked with dust and blood. She should’ve looked broken. She didn’t. She looked like fire smoldering in the ashes—dangerous and alive.
I kept my rifle across my knees, but my eyes kept finding her instead of the ravine walls. Every time I told myself to look away, I didn’t.
“You’re staring,” she murmured, not even opening her eyes.
“You’re bleeding,” I countered.
Her lips curved faintly. “That didn’t stop you earlier.”
I should’ve shut it down. Should’ve reminded us both that we were being hunted. Instead, I shifted closer, until the space between us hummed like a live wire. Her gaze lifted to meet mine, steady, unflinching, and for the first time since we hit the ground, I saw the woman under the armor.
“You fought like hell back there,” I said quietly.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m not.” My voice came out rougher than I meant. “I just… can’t stop seeing it. The way you moved. The way you didn’t hesitate.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, a flicker of something raw slipping through. “Because if I hesitated, I’d see their faces. And I can’t afford that.”
Her mask cracked on the words, just a hairline fracture, but enough. I reached out before I could stop myself, brushing my thumb over the cut at her temple. She stilled, breath catching, eyes locked on mine like the world had narrowed to that single point of contact.
“You don’t have to carry it alone,” I said.
Her whisper was sharper than a blade. “And what happens when I lean on you? When you can’t hold me up anymore?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because the truth was right there, pounding through my chest, and admitting it would break every rule I’d ever lived by.
So instead, I let my hand linger, rough against her skin, and whispered the only promise I could give.
“Then I’ll fall with you.”
Her breath hitched, soft, dangerous, and before I could pull back, her hand rose, fingers brushing my jaw, tentative like she didn’t know if she was allowed.
The desert around us held its breath.
And for one reckless heartbeat, I let myself want her.
31
Elara
Ishouldn’t have touched him.
The second my fingers grazed his jaw, every wall Hydra had drilled into me trembled. Beckett was all grit and shadow, blood on his skin and fire in his eyes—and instead of fear, I felt… safe.
His breath caught, like he hadn’t expected me to close the distance. But he didn’t pull back. He stayed there, close enough that the heat of him wrapped around me in the cool night air.
“This is a mistake,” I whispered.
“Yeah.” His voice was low, rough, threaded with something dangerous. His hand slid from my temple to the curve of my jaw, thumb resting at the corner of my mouth. “But I’ve never wanted a mistake more.”
The air between us shattered.
