"I love you," he said, and started to move.
It was slow. Deep. Every thrust a declaration, every touch a promise. We moved together like we had all the time in the world—like there wasn't a mission in six hours, like thirty-seven lives didn't hang in the balance. For these few stolen moments, there was only us.
"I love you too," I gasped. "I love you, I love you?—"
The orgasm built like a wave, cresting slowly, inevitably. When it broke, I cried out his name, and he followed me over the cliff, spilling inside me with a groan that sounded like prayer.
We lay tangled together afterward, waves of leftover pleasure making us tremble.
"Whatever happens tonight," he said, "we face it together."
"Together," I agreed.
Outside, the sun had set. The sky was dark, scattered with stars. In six hours, we'd storm another compound. Face Chen's forces. Maybe die trying.
Somewhere in the house, a phone rang.
Tyler's voice carried through the thin walls—sharp, urgent, wrong. Then footsteps. Running. The bedroom door flew open. Tyler stood there, face pale.
"She knows. Chen knows. They're moving the victims now—we go in immediately or we lose them all."
Peace was over. War had found us again.
17
INFERNO
Twenty minutes. That's all we had to transform from tangled lovers into soldiers. Axel was dressed and armed in under three, barking orders into his phone while I scrambled for my boots. Tyler's footsteps thundered through the farmhouse, rallying everyone who could still fight.
"How does she know?" I demanded, catching Tyler in the hallway.
"I don't know. Leak, surveillance, lucky guess—doesn't matter now." His face was grim, controlled, but I could see the fear underneath. "If we don't move in the next fifteen minutes, those thirty-seven people are gone. Relocated or dead."
"Your FBI backup?"
"Already en route. They'll meet us there." He checked his weapon, slammed in a fresh magazine. "Sarah—my old partner—she's bringing a full tactical team. Six agents she trusts with her life."
"And if she's wrong about them?"
Tyler's jaw tightened. "Then we're all dead anyway."
The convoy rolled out at 11:47 PM. Four trucks, eighteen Phoenix members, every weapon we had. The wounded stayed behind—Tank cursing viciously as we left, leg still too damaged to fight. Maria took charge of the survivors, her face pale but steady.
"Bring them back," she'd said, gripping my arm before I climbed into Axel's truck. "All of you. Bring everyone back."
I'd promised. Whether I could keep that promise was another matter.
The roads were empty, dark. We drove without headlights, guided by GPS and the sliver of moon that had finally risen. No one spoke. The only sounds were engines rumbling and the distant wail of a siren somewhere in the city behind us.
Axel's hand found mine in the darkness. Squeezed once.
I squeezed back.
Forty miles had never felt so long.
The farm materialized out of the darkness like a ghost.
Rusted silos. A collapsed barn. The main house dark and silent, windows boarded up. If you drove past during the day, you'd think it was abandoned—just another failed dairy operation slowly rotting into the earth.
