I was a fucking liar.
The hallway smelled like industrial cleaner and old carpet.The kind of place that saw a lot of travelers passing through and none of them leaving much behind.Dreadnought didn’t have some fancy chain hotel.
My boots were too loud on the tile at first, so I slowed, forced myself into that quiet, controlled gait that had been drilled into me over years of training and worse years of real life.Once out of the elevator I was back on the old worn carpet again, muting my steps.
Her door came into view.
I stopped there longer than I had by the bike.
This was the line.The last one.Knock and everything changed—or walk away and keep the lie intact.
I raised my hand before I could talk myself out of it.
Knocked once.
Firm.Decisive.
Footsteps on the other side.A pause.The faint slide of fabric.Then the door opened.
And it damn near took the air out of my lungs.
She wasn’t dressed for war.No armor.No sharp edges.Just real.
A robe tied loosely at her waist, a nightie underneath, the lace age at her cleavage peeking out.A bonnet pulled down to cover and protect her hair.Glasses perched on her nose.Bare face, soft and familiar and somehow even more beautiful than the version of her that walked into rooms and commanded them.
Shock flared across her features.Her mouth parted like she might say my name.
I didn’t let her.I came this far, I wasn’t holding back.
I stepped into the room, my hand coming up to the back of her neck, fingers threading into the fabric of her robe there, pulling her to me with a force that surprised us both.The door swung shut behind me, the sound dull and final.
My mouth crashed into hers.
Not careful.Not polite.
Necessary.
She gasped against me, that sound cutting straight through my chest, and then she was there—hands gripping my cut, her body pressing back, no hesitation once the first heartbeat passed.
I backed her up without breaking the kiss until her shoulders hit the wall.My body followed, pinning her there, the solid weight of me reminding us both this was real.That I was real.That she was too.
I didn’t speak.Words would have ruined it.
My hand slid from her neck to her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip before I kissed her again, slower this time.Deeper.Like I was trying to learn the shape of her mouth, the way she fit against me.
Years collapsed in on themselves.
There was no anger in this moment.No accusations.No explanations.Just the truth we had both been pretending didn’t exist.The connection we both denied.
Her fingers curled into my shirt like she was afraid I would disappear if she let go.I moved my mouth to her cheek, her jaw, down the column of her throat.Her skin was warm.Alive.I inhaled her like I had been starved of oxygen.Maybe I had been.Everything about this moment gave me life like I had never had before.
My hand came back to her neck—not tight.Never that.Just enough to feel her pulse under my fingertips.Fast.Strong.
Proof.
I pressed my forehead to her shoulder, breath heavy, my mouth brushing her skin as I whispered the only thing that mattered.
“You’re alive,” I murmured, voice rough.“You’re safe.You’re here with me.”
