But still, I wouldn’t blame her. As much as I didn’t want my six weeks of undercover hell to be for nothing, I would totally understand if she called 9-1-1 the second she got herself to a phone.
“I’ll call your friends, not the cops.”
“Thank you. I’ll stall these guys as long as I can. Say you’re sick, locked in the bathroom. Buy you time.” I moved closer. “You’ll need to move fast but carefully. No injuries. Follow the road from the trees. Don’t stop for anything.”
The weight of everything pressed down on us. Eight miles through dark woods. Snake checking. Diesel wanting his turn. Oliver showing up early. A hundred ways to die.
“We should rest,” I said. “You’ll need energy.”
But neither of us could sleep. After an hour of lying rigidly side by side, close enough to feel each other’s tension but not touching, I gave up.
“How about more self-defense practice?”
We went through the moves again, and she was getting it. She’d always been nimble—I remembered her doing yoga in our apartment, that flexibility serving her now as she learned to slip out of holds. The fire was back in her eyes as she successfully broke free, twisted away, drove her elbow into my solar plexus with real force.
She wasn’t over yesterday—her flinches told me that—but she was strong. She’d always been strong. It was one of the reasons I was in love with her.
No.Had beenin love with her. Past tense now.
The day crawled by. We made all the sounds the guys expected. By afternoon, Mia had fresh bruises but also knowledge. How to break free. How to fight. It wasn’t nearly enough, but at least it was something.
And it kept those assholes on the other side of the wall entertained with what they were imagining was happening in here. The only time I left the room was to find us a little more food.
As darkness finally painted the Montana sky purple-black, the moment arrived. The compound had settled—Tommy’s video games, Diesel’s drunken laughter, Snake cleaning weapons with methodical precision.
I stood close to Mia in the dimming light, close enough to see fear and determination in her eyes. Close enough to catch that vanilla scent one last time.
“It’s time,” I whispered.
She nodded, then surprised me by stepping closer, her hand on my chest. “Ryan?—”
I couldn’t help myself. I cupped her face and kissed her like a drowning man gasping for air. Desperate and apologetic and final. Every regret, every moment of missing her, every night I’d reached for her and found empty space—all of it poured into that kiss. When we pulled apart, we were both shaking.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice rough. “For all of this. For everything. Now and six years ago. For being too broken to stay and too much of a coward to explain.”
“Ryan—”
“Go have a wonderful, happy life,” I cut her off. “Find someone who deserves you. Have those kids you wanted. That house with the garden. Be happy.”
There was so much more burning in my chest to say. That I’d never stopped loving her. That leaving her was the hardest thing I’d ever done, harder than combat, harder than watching friends die.
But those words would only hurt her more.
“Be careful,” she whispered, and I could see she understood. We both knew we’d probably never see each other again.
One more kiss, softer this time, salt-sweet with tears. A promise and an ending, the final sentence in a love story that had ended years ago, way before it should have.
Then I led her into the bathroom. The window was above the toilet, barely big enough for a child. She’d have to push through shoulders first, then twist her hips. It would be uncomfortable, painful with her bruises, but freedom waited on the other side.
I helped her onto the toilet lid, hands steady on her waist, then boosted her to the window and she pushed herself through, dropping to the ground outside with a soft thud that sounded like finality.
I climbed up and leaned out the opening as far as I could, caught one last glimpse of her in the darkness. She looked back once, her face pale as bone in the moonlight, and I saw my ownheartbreak reflected there. Then she was gone, swallowed by the trees and the night.
Relief, guilt, and sorrow burrowed deep.
Mia being safe was the most important thing. That was all that mattered.
Chapter 6
