“Say it again,” I rasped.
Her hand slid up my neck, fingers threading into my hair. “I’m yours, Adam. Even when I’m afraid. Even when this fight drags us under. I’ll still be yours.”
I closed my eyes, the weight of it burning hot and sharp. Because I’d been trained my whole life to fight wars, not to keep love alive in the middle of them. And yet here she was, proving both were possible.
“You’re mine,” I whispered back, my voice low and certain. “Not just tonight. Not just until the mission ends. Always.”
Her breath caught, and for the first time, I saw Raine Carter—the soldier, the survivor, the woman—let the walls fall all the way down.
We held each other tighter, tangled in the dark, the war outside kept at bay for one stolen night.
And I knew: whatever waited for us at dawn, whatever hell came next—this, right here, was worth fighting for.
111
Raine
The faintest warmth of dawn leaked through the cracks in the boards when the knock came—hard, sharp, impatient.
“Rise and shine, lovebirds.” Hawk’s voice cut through the door, all teeth and sarcasm. “We got work to do.”
I groaned, burying my face deeper into Adam’s chest. His arm tightened around me, solid and warm, like he was daring anyone outside to try again.
Another knock. Louder. Blade this time, voice flat as steel. “We don’t have time for your honeymoon. Get dressed.”
Adam’s chest rumbled with a low growl. “I should’ve left them at the dock.”
Despite myself, I laughed. Quiet, muffled against him. And for a heartbeat, the war didn’t feel so close.
But then I sat up, the bruises across my ribs pulling sharp, the ache in my muscles reminding me exactly where we were. Not safe. Not free. Just catching breath in the middle of fire.
Adam watched me pull my shirt over my head, his gray-blue eyes softening, then hardening again. “You good?”
I slipped my pistol back into its holster, chin lifting. “I’m better than good.”
His mouth curved faintly. “Damn right.”
We stepped back into the warehouse together. Boone was already typing, eyes bloodshot but sharp. Russ passed out protein bars like communion, his voice steady but low. Hawk leaned against a crate, smirking like he’d won something. Blade sat cleaning his knife, silent as ever. Logan paced near the door, jaw tight, the first rays of light catching the edge of his rifle.
“Corpus isn’t done,” Boone said without looking up. “Got chatter overnight. They’re moving assets inland. Bigger hub than anything we’ve seen yet.”
The fragile calm shattered. The fight was already coming for us.
I felt Adam’s hand brush mine, quick and certain. Just a touch, but enough to remind me—I wasn’t in this alone.
We’d had our night. Now the war wanted us back.
112
Adam
Maps and notes littered the crate we used as a table. Boone’s laptop threw ghost-light across his face as his fingers flew, pulling chatter, cargo routes, and names that didn’t belong together.
“Corpus was just a spoke,” Boone muttered, not looking up. “The hub’s further inland. Bigger. Cleaner. They’re moving product north under agricultural shipments—grain, produce. You don’t scan a reefer full of lettuce if you’re on a deadline.”
Russ leaned forward, jaw tight. “You’re saying they’re hiding people with food.”
“Not hiding,” Boone said flatly. “Disguising. Which means this network is smarter than we thought.”
