Norah exhaled against his lips, her fingers gripping his shoulder, anchoring herself. Anchoringhim.
He deepened the kiss just slightly, a quiet sigh catching in his throat—equal parts relief and confession—before he forced himself to ease back, resting his forehead against hers again, breath unsteady.
Her eyes fluttered open, wide and shining.
“Marshall,” she whispered, voice trembling around his name.
He swallowed hard, thumb sweeping her cheek again in a touch that felt like a vow.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, still close enough that the words brushed her lips. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
But adrenaline has its own gravity. And when she drew in a shaky breath—when her fingers tightened in his shirt, pulling him fractionally closer—something in him snapped loose all over again.
Her gaze flicked to his mouth.
This time, he didn’t hesitate.
Marshall’s hand slid to the back of her neck, guiding her in as his mouth met hers again—deeper, hotter, the kind of kiss forged from fear and relief and fifteen years of everything unsaid. She rose onto her toes, meeting him with a soft, desperate sound that detonated through him like another explosion.
He kissed her like a man who’d nearly lost her.
She kissed him like she’d just found her footing again.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, and he let himself follow—carefully, mindful of her bruises, but unable to stop the way his body curved around hers, shielding her even in the safety of the room.
Her lips parted under his, inviting him deeper, and he answered with a low, rough sound that vibrated against her mouth. She tasted like warm cherries and the salt of dried tears.
When he finally tore himself back for air, it was only an inch.
Just enough to breathe her name.
“Norah . . .”
Her lips brushed his once more—light, lingering—before she tucked herself into his chest, the kiss dissolving into a quiet embrace.
Marshall held her, letting the moment shift from intensity to peace. His eyes stayed half-open, scanning the room out of habit, but his body finally began to unclench.
They stood like that for a long, quiet stretch of minutes. Long enough for the tremors in her hands to ease. Long enough for his heartbeat to slow from combat rhythm to something human.
When she finally spoke, her voice was small. “Can we...just stay here a bit?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “As long as you want.”
His thumb brushed the side of her arm in a slow, steady line.
Whatever storm waited outside this room—Sidarov, the Syndicate, Geneva, the mole—they would face it. But not tonight.
Tonight, he just needed to hold her.
CHAPTER 30
NORAH
Norah woke to soft,bluish light she didn’t recognize flickering against the inside of her eyelids.
For a moment, she didn’t move. Her body felt weighted, like she’d slept underwater. Muscles sore, temples throbbing with the dull ache of an adrenaline hangover. The last thing she remembered was leaning into Marshall’s chest until exhaustion claimed her in pieces.
She blinked and lifted her head from the arm of the couch. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, but her neck protested when she sat up. The room was cast in blue shadow from the TV. Red digits on the clock read 4:17 a.m. Too late to be night. Too early to be morning.
