“You won’t.” His gaze held hers. “But you have to let me do my job.”
Something fragile flared in her chest. Anger, fear, and exhaustion all tangled together. “You can’t just take over, Marshall. My life, my choices?—”
“Your life,” he said, “is exactly what I’m trying to protect. Not control. Protect.”
“It doesn’t feel different from where I’m standing.”
He stilled. The edge in him softened. “I’m not trying to own you, Norah. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Her heart thudded too loudly.
A soft, frightened meow broke the moment. Cleo, trembling under the bed where she’d darted when Marshall arrived.
Norah’s throat tightened. “See?” she whispered. “Everyone’s scared.”
Marshall crouched, lifting the bed skirt with surprising gentleness. His voice dropped to a murmur she couldn’t quite hear, coaxing the cat out. Cleo bolted into Norah’s arms, burying herself against her chest as if hiding inside the fabric.
He watched them both with something near reverence. Somehow, that steadied her more than anything else had tonight.
For a man who’d lived through war, he handled her fragility like it was scripture.
“Norah,” he said softly, “I’m proud of you.”
Her breath hitched. “For what?”
“For being scared,” he said, “and doing the right thing anyway.”
Her eyes burned. “Marshall?—”
“I’m not saying that as your past,” he added. “I’m saying it as someone who’s watched you fight every day since this started. You’re brave. Smarter than half my team. And tougher than you realize.”
A tear slid. She hated it, but she didn’t look away. He wiped it with his thumb, his touch warm and unbearably gentle.
“And for what it’s worth...” His eyes didn’t leave hers. “If tonight terrified you, it’s because someone out there knows exactly how dangerous you are to them.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “So I’m a threat.”
“A big one.”
She looked around the ruined room—the overturned desk, the scattered papers, the deliberate chaos that screamedWe were here. We can come back.
Then she looked back at him.
He stood in the wreckage like a barricade in human form, still in his dress shirt from the wedding, tension drawn tight through his frame. Then he turned toward her, the decision already made behind his eyes.
“You can’t stay here.”
She closed her eyes. She’d known it was coming.
“Black Tower has rooms,” he said. “Secure ones. Off-grid. No one gets in unless we allow it.”
It wasn’t an order, but she had the feeling he’d only restrained himself for her benefit.
And heaven knew she wanted to say yes. She wanted to hand him this whole night, this whole fear, let him carry it like he always carried everything. But?—
“Marshall...if I disappear, I lose access. I lose everything that makes me useful. And they’ll know exactly why I went dark.”
He didn’t argue. That somehow made it worse.
