“You don’t trust him,” I said softly.
Adam froze, then turned, his eyes catching the last strip of sunlight through the curtains. “He had a chance to be there, Raine. He wasn’t. My men almost died because backup never came, and he was locked in a cell swinging fists at uniforms.”
My throat pinched. “He did it for me.”
Adam scrubbed a hand over his face, the sound rough in the silence. “I know. That’s the only reason I’m letting Hawk even look at him. But if he screws this, I’ll shut him out. For good.”
I nodded, though my chest ached. Logan was my brother, but Adam was the man I’d loved my whole life. And I knew which side I’d stand on if I had to choose.
The room fell quiet again, just the hum of the cheap air conditioner and the weight of everything unspoken. Finally, Adam crossed the space between us, sinking to his knees in front of me.
His hands slid to my thighs, gentle despite the callouses and bandages. “I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, raw and rough. “Not to them. Not to the past. Not to anything.”
I cupped his face, tracing the scar that cut across his jaw. “Then don’t. You will never lose me again.”
For a long moment, we just stayed there—his forehead pressed to my stomach, my fingers in his hair, breathing in sync. No storm, no enemies, no betrayals. Just us.
Eventually, he lifted his head, the storm still in his eyes but tempered by something deeper. Love. Resolve.
“We’ll figure out who’s behind this,” he said. “But tonight… it’s just us.”
And for the first time in five years, I believed him.
52
Logan
The motel parking lot smelled like wet asphalt and oil. I leaned against the hood of my truck, nursing a black coffee that tasted like burnt mud, and watched the team move.
Stoker’s men weren’t like anyone I’d worked with in law enforcement, or the SEALs. They didn’t talk much, but when they did, it was clipped, efficient, like every word cost something. Hawk limped out first, shoulder strapped tight but eyes sharp. Russ followed, calm as stone, carrying files he must’ve scavenged from somewhere. Blade ghosted past without a word, a knife in his hand that looked more like an extension of his arm than a weapon.
I’d worked with SEALs before, but this… this was different. These guys weren’t just disciplined. They werebonded. Tight. Unshakable. And I was the outsider trying to muscle my way in.
“Carter.” Hawk tossed a file at my chest. “Let’s see if that badge of yours is good for something.”
I caught it, flipping it open. Arrest records, patrol logs, dispatch timestamps. My stomach twisted. The backup delays were right there in black and white—but buried underbureaucratic red tape, notes scribbled by supervisors covering their asses.
I swore under my breath. “They stalled you. On purpose.”
Russ nodded once, quiet. “Question is—who gave the order?”
Blade finally spoke, voice flat. “And why?”
The file in my hands blurred. This wasn’t just corruption. This was calculated. Targeted.
I looked up, meeting Hawk’s eyes. “I can pull more. Internal memos, secure comm logs. I still know which doors to knock on.”
Hawk’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Then knock loud.”
For the first time since walking into that motel room, I felt it—the edge of belonging. Not trust, not yet. But a chance.
I drained the last of the bitter coffee, the taste burning down my throat. “Alright. Let’s find the bastard who tried to hang you out to dry.”
53
Raine
The motel room still smelled faintly of antiseptic from the medics, but I couldn’t shake the stench of blood and smoke that clung to my memory. I sat cross-legged on the bed, absently fingering the bandage at my ribs, while Adam paced by the window.
