His eyes soften for a fraction of a second a tiny crack in his armor.“I’ll be right back,” he whispers.
There it is again, that tether.The undeniable pull.
“Riot,” My voice breaks without my permission.
He stops in his tracks.
Slowly, he turns back around.
I can’t help it.I step forward.He does too.
We meet in the middle breathless, scared, wanting, incomplete.
I rise onto my toes before I realize what I’m doing.His hand cups the back of my neck, warm and gentle and grounding.And for the first time since the accident,I kiss him.
Not a hesitant brush.
Not a testing peck.
A real kiss.A remembering kiss.A claiming kiss.
Soft.Desperate.Slow.Perfect.
His breath shudders.His lips part against mine.His other hand clamps around my waist, careful but hungry.He kisses me back like a man drowning.
But then he pulls away abruptly, breath ragged, forehead pressed to mine.His voice is almost inaudible.“Sunshine,” he whispers, “I swear to God, when this is over…”
He doesn’t finish.He can’t.
Because a crash echoes from somewhere outside metal slamming into concrete.
He jerks back, gun raised.“Someone’s here,” he growls.
“Riot.”
“Get behind the door,” he orders.“Now.”
I do.The safehouse lights flicker once.Twice.
Then—They go out completely.
Total darkness.
I hear Riot cock his weapon in the dark.
“Stay with me,” he whispers.My heart beat echoes in my ears.
“I won’t lose you,” he says — quiet, lethal, a vow and a threat wrapped together.
Then—The unmistakable sound of footsteps above us.
Heavy.
Purposeful.
Hunting.
My blood runs cold.They found us.
