“I can always hear you.”His hand slid up the small of her back, slow and lazy, making her shiver.“Even before the bond.”
Heat curled deep inside her at the reminder.At everything they’d shared last night.She lifted her head, brushing her lips to the scar on his lower abdomen.His fingers slid into her hair, gentle but possessive, guiding her mouth higher until she met his gaze.
Gray Spark—the man who once thought he had to restrain every part of himself to be safe—looked utterly unguarded.And hers.
“We’re supposed to be at the briefing in twenty minutes,” Hannah said.
He rolled her beneath him, his smile slow and wicked.“We’re already late.”
“Gray...”
“Worth it.”He kissed her, warm and deep and claiming in a way that made her toes curl.If he hadn’t pulled away with a ragged exhale, she suspected they’d never leave this room.
But when he eased back, the softness in his eyes stole her breath.That new softness was earned, not accidental.
He brushed his thumb along her cheek.“You okay?”
She nodded, unable to do much more than pull him into another quick kiss.“I’m better than okay.I’m grateful.For everything.For you.”
They eventually dragged themselves out of bed, still orbiting around each other.Every touch, every glance was tighter and more intimate now that their bond was fully forged.Hannah dressed while watching him move across the room, and she wasn’t sure if it was the morning light or last night’s glow, but Gray looked lighter.Less like a storm waiting to break, and more like a man stepping into his own skin without apology.
“I keep expecting you to vanish,” he said quietly as he pulled on his shirt, his eyes lingering on her with a kind of reverence that warmed her from the inside out.
“I’m not going anywhere.”She crossed to him, smoothing the fabric over his chest.“You’re stuck with me.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips.“Good.”
***
THE INITIATIVE WASbuzzing by the time they reached the central hub.Screens lit up every wall with live feeds: Senate coverage, international reactions, security grids showing peaceful protests and volatile flashpoints.
Yaz was in full command mode, barking instructions into three different channels at once while gesturing for new tech recruits to set up an auxiliary monitoring station.Rick and Evie paced between terminals, coordinating with field leaders.Even the Mercury variants who had chosen to remain were stationed as guards or runners, no longer segregated in the training pits.
Near the far wall, Chris Stone huddled over a geological survey map with Jem, their heads bent close together.Flanking them were two men who shared Chris's broad shoulders and steady demeanor—Clay and Cliff, the clones Dr.Grant had created six months ago.They'd chosen their own names within the first week, insisting they weren't copies of anyone.Jemma stood at Clay's elbow, pointing at the display, while Jemery leaned against Cliff's side, her hand resting absently on his arm.Their bonds stabilized in ways that had surprised even Vera's visions.What had started as a desperate experiment to give the surviving Jem clones mates of their own had eventually turned them into a close-knit family.
Gray straightened beside her, stepping seamlessly into that role the world had thrust onto him: not just the Initiative’s strongest asset, but its center of gravity.He issued orders with a steady voice.He listened intently when spoken to, and still glanced toward her every few minutes, grounding himself with her presence.
When the briefing finally broke into smaller assignments, Hannah slipped away toward the west wing—toward the room she had asked Vera to reserve last week, long before Pierce’s attack turned everything inside out.Now it had become a refuge for people still trying to understand who they were now that Protogenus couldn’t silence them.
A support group seemed like such a small thing compared to the battles the Initiative had been fighting.But Hannah knew what it meant to hide in plain sight, to feel like your very existence was a threat waiting to be exposed.
She knew how it felt to shake every time you handed over your ID, waiting for someone to notice your too-steady hands or your too-focused stare.
Inside, ten people sat in a wide circle, most clutching mugs they probably didn’t realize were empty.Some were former Protogenus test subjects; others were latent variants who had hidden in the shadows for years.A few were still in shock from the riot.All of them watched the door when she entered.
Not with suspicion, but with hope.
Hannah forced herself to breathe past the pressure in her chest.“Thank you for coming,” she said softly.“I know today feels impossible.But you’re here.That matters.”
A young woman with shaking hands said, “You stood out in front of the whole city last night.You weren’t afraid?”
Hannah sat, letting the circle close around her.“I’ve been afraid most of my life,” she admitted.“But I’m learning that fear doesn’t have to decide what I do next.”
They listened.Actually listened.
She spoke for only a few minutes about how she used to avoid shaking hands because a static shock terrified her.That she’d spent years pretending her own power wasn’t burning her up from the inside.
No speeches.No forced bravery.Just honesty.
