His smile—soft and real and just for me—is worth every moment of pain that brought us here.
22
HUNTER
The morning light filters through the penthouse windows as I watch Aurora across the kitchen island. She’s stirring her coffee absently, scrolling through news alerts on her tablet. Even in this mundane moment, wearing one of my T-shirts that drowns her slender frame, she’s captivating.
Three days of living together since returning from the mountain safehouse, and I’m addicted to these quiet moments. The way she hums in the shower. How she curls against me in sleep. The domesticity of it feels foreign but strangely right.
“Anything?” I ask, knowing she’s checking for anything about Liv or Jax.
Aurora shakes her head, the worry etching lines between her brows. “Nothing new.”
I circle the island and press my lips to her temple. “The Montana lead is solid. Grayson’s team is narrowing the search grid hourly.”
She leans into me, her body seeking comfort even as her mind refuses it. This balance between us is still new—her allowing herself to need me while maintaining her fierce independence. It’s a delicate dance we’re learning together.
“I know,” she says. “I just?—”
“We’ll find her,” I promise, turning her to face me. “Whatever it takes.”
Her fingers trace the line of my jaw—a gesture that’s become familiar in the past days. These small touches communicate more than words ever could between us.
The security panel by the door chimes, interrupting our moment. The penthouse camera feed shows Grayson standing in the private elevator hallway.
“It’s Grayson,” I tell Aurora, noting her immediate tension.
I cross to the door, already sensing something’s wrong from Grayson’s stance. When I open it, my suspicion is confirmed. His normally composed expression is taut, his eyes holding the controlled intensity that only appears when things have gone sideways.
“What happened?” I ask without preamble.
Grayson glances past me to where Aurora stands. His jaw tightens. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice deliberately neutral in that way that sends ice through my veins.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
Grayson’s eyes dart to Aurora briefly before focusing back on me. “We have a situation.”
I step aside, letting him into the penthouse. Aurora approaches, her posture rigid with anticipation. Her hand finds mine, squeezing.
“Tell us,” I say, gripping Aurora’s hand tighter.
Grayson exhales heavily. “We got a call from Ari about two hours ago. He was in Montana, operating on his own.”
“Montana?” Aurora’s voice rises. “Where Liv might be?”
Grayson nods grimly. “He found the cabin. Confirmed Jax was holding Olivia there.”
“Fuck,” I growl. “Why wasn’t I notified immediately?”
“Because he went dark afterward. Said he was going in.” Grayson’s expression hardens. “We begged him to wait, wait for backup, but he didn’t listen. He was too emotional about Olivia.”
Aurora’s fingers dig into my palm. “What happened?”
“We redirected a surveillance drone to his coordinates.” Grayson pulls out his tablet, his movements precise, controlled. “We were too late. The footage shows Jax taking Liv and Ari, loading them into an unmarked van.”
“Show me,” I demand.
Grayson hands me the tablet. The grainy aerial footage shows a remote cabin surrounded by dense forest. Three figures move across the clearing—Jax’s tall frame unmistakable even from this distance, a second man dragging what appears to be Ari’s unconscious body, and between them, Olivia, her blonde hair catching the sunlight.
