The part of me that was trained to kill, to survive, was screaming now, telling me this was a mistake. Reminding me that she’d only end up paying the price for it. Everyone who got close to me eventually did. It was just how things were. People in this industry didn’t have friends, families. Those were things to be exploited, used against you. You made a lot of enemies when you were a gun for hire; someone was always looking for a way to hurt you. Letting someone in was selfish. I had told myself this so many times since I had met her. Like I was trying to convince myself. I had almost lost her because of the people after me. She could have died. They could have broken her jaw and raped her, torturing every ounce of hope and goodness out of her.
She shifted in her sleep, her nose brushing my chest, her mouth parting on a soft breath. Innocent and unaware.
Jesus.
I could still feel that echo of her around me, and I hated that I wanted it more. I wanted her. The way her body took mine like it wasn’t afraid, like I couldneverhurt her. Her laughter, her voice in the dark, her hands on my skin, her fire. Her fuckinghope.The way she looked at me like I could be more. Like she wasn’t afraid even though she knew she should be.
If I was smart, I’d get out of this bed. I’d put distance between us. I’d remember the mission, the orders, the truth of what I was made to do. I’d make it hurt enough that she never reached for me again. I could do it so easily. She was so soft. A few harsh, unkind words, and her heart would be broken. She’d never look at me the same again, she’d never seek me out again.
But I didn’t move because her leg tightened slightly around mine, her body inching closer even in sleep, and I convinced myself that maybe it was just tonight. Maybe it was all I’d get, but for now, I stayed. Not because I was brave, but because for the first time in a long damn time, I didn’t want to feel alone. For the first time, I wondered what the fuck I’d been fighting so hard to survive for, if not for this.
My body was still aching in the way a man aches after something he never thought he’d have again. I couldn’t feel the pain of my physical wounds, not anymore. I hurt from something that cut so much deeper. I hurt because of her, because ofhope. And that… that was more dangerous than the bullet.
I reached up, running my hand down her shoulder, along the familiar shape of her, the warmth, the way her skin felt against mine like it had always belonged there.
Then I slowly, quietly pulled away.
She murmured something in her sleep and I froze, waiting, but she didn’t wake. She just curled tighter into the spot I’d left behind, chasing the shape of me. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my hands. Those hands that had done too much bad in the world, broken too many things, pulled too many triggers. They’d touchedher,and it felt filthy every time.
No blood on them now, just her scent, and it made something inside me burn again. She didn’t belong in my world. I didn’t belong inhers.I didn’t know which was worse.
I reached for a fresh shirt and as I pulled it overhead, it stuck to the wound on my shoulder, and I winced. I glanced over my shoulder at her sleeping form again. She looked so peaceful and content, like we hadn’t been going through hell. It twisted something sharp in my gut. This made it so much harder to walk away.
“Eden?”
Barely a whisper. She didn’t stir. I moved slowly, careful not to wake her. She made a small sound of protest as the bed shifted and then curled tighter into the space I’d left behind. I stood at the edge of the bed longer than I should’ve, just watching. The slope of her back beneath the blankets, the little wrinkle between her brows, the soft rise and fall of her breath.
She deserved so much more than a man like me.
Satisfied that my voice wouldn’t wake her, I stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and pressed my hands to the sink. My shoulder throbbed where the stitches tugged, blood soaked into gauze I hadn’t bothered to change. I could still feel her kiss there, her mouth soft over the wound. Like maybe if she gave it tenderness, it wouldn’t bleed.
I turned on the faucet just to cover the silence. Pulled out the old burner from my jacket pocket and powered it on. I hadn’t used this number in over a year.
It only rang twice, then came her voice, flat and dangerous. It managed to pull a small smile out of me.
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Havoc.” I cooed her nickname, taking on the scolding tone of someone admonishing a child for cussing.
Silence. The line went still long enough that I thought she’d hung up, until her voice returned, lower now.
“Well, if it isn’t my baby brother. You never call anymore. I’d be less surprised if our dad’s corpse was calling. You’re either dying or desperate, huh?”
“Little of both,” I said. My throat felt like it was lined with gravel. “I need help.”
“I thought we decided to burn that bridge a long time ago, Halo. You calling just to piss on the ashes?”
“No. I’m calling because I trust you.” I hesitated. “You’re the only person I can trust.”
That did something. Even through the phone, I could hear her breathing shift.
“What is it?” She sighed, voice softening but still sharp.
“There’s a woman.” I swallowed the rest. I wasn’t good at explanations. Not when it came to Eden. “I have to do some things, some dangerous things. I can’t have her caught in the crossfire.”
“She yours?”
The words hit like a punch I didn’t see coming. I looked down at my hand and saw it was shaking.
