Annie reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his.
“Or maybe we were meant to protect each other.”
The contact grounded him, warmed him, steadied something that had been unmoored for years. He studied her profile in the lantern glow, the resolve in her expression, the courage that never seemed to dim no matter how brutal the night became.
“Annie,” he said quietly. “Earlier… when you asked about the future.”
She lifted her gaze.
“I meant it. But I meant something else too.” He turned fully toward her. “I meant that I want to spend the rest of my life solving mysteries with you. Not just as your partner. As your husband.”
Her breath caught.
“Jack…”
“I know it’s fast. I know we’re hiding from killers and none of this is normal and—”
“It’s not too fast,” she interrupted. “We’ve already lost four years. I’m not losing any more pretending this isn’t real.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“That’s a ‘ask me again when we’re not hiding from killers in a mountain cabin.’” A smile curved her mouth. “But the answer’s going to be yes.”
Relief flooded him so hard his chest ached. Determination followed close behind. He would finish this. He would keep her alive. He would bring Eleanor Blackwood justice. And then he would spend the rest of his life proving he was done running.
A distant rumble broke through the quiet.
Jack turned back to the window just as headlights began moving down the mountain road.
“They’re leaving,” he said.
“Think it’s a trap?”
“Maybe. But they wouldn’t advertise it if they were waiting us out.” He watched until the lights vanished. “We’ll wait another hour. Then we move.”
“And then?”
“Then we go to that bank,” he said. “And we find out exactly what Eleanor left behind. And we end this.”
As they settled into the quiet again, Jack’s thoughts drifted to his parents and the life they’d built on this mountain. Forty years of choosing each other. Forty years of choosing courage over fear.
He wanted that. With Annie.
Eleanor Blackwood had believed someone would one day be brave enough to finish what she started.
Jack intended to make sure she was right.
And he intended to make sure Annie lived to see it.
***
Jack pressed himself flat against the cold stone wall of the cave, every muscle locked as he positioned his body between Annie and the narrow entrance. The rock leached heat from his skin, but it was the sound of voices above them that made his blood run cold—men close enough that he could hear the scrape of boots on stone, the low edge of impatience in their words. Still, it was Annie’s presence in the darkness beside him that made his pulse race for entirely different reasons. He could feel her there without seeing her, could sense the steady courage inher breathing, the fragile, unbreakable reality that she was alive and in his arms’ reach.
I love you, Annie. I’ve loved you for years.
The words echoed through him, as real and dangerous as the men searching the ridge above. He’d finally spoken the truth he’d carried for four years, words that had burned in his chest every time he’d seen her smile, every time she’d leaned close over a case file, every time he’d forced himself to look away because wanting her had felt like inviting disaster. Now they were trapped in a cave while armed men hunted them, and he couldn’t see her face, couldn’t read her expression, couldn’t know whether his confession had comforted her or burdened her. The uncertainty clawed at him almost as fiercely as the threat overhead.
“They’ve got to be close,” one of the voices said from somewhere above the cave. “Thomas said they were definitely on this ridge.”
