Trigger whispered, “They were conditioning kids…”
Sheriff Tate closed his eyes. “Dear God.”
Nora’s voice trembled. “Wolf, those men… they weren’t my enemies back then.”
I dropped to my knees in front of her, grabbing her hands gently. “Nora. Look at me.”
She did — tears streaking her cheeks.
“You were a child,” I said. “You were manipulated. Used. None of this — NONE OF IT — is your fault.”
“But they remember me,” she cried. “They think I belong to them.”
I shook my head fiercely. “Listen to me.”
I cupped her face, gently but fiercely, forcing her to anchor to me.
“You don’t belong to anyone.”
Her breath hitched.
“You are not a project. You are not a subject. You are not a thing they get to claim.”
My voice dropped, raw and unfiltered.
“You are mine to protect. And I will protect you until my last breath.”
Tears spilled from her lashes.
Trigger cleared his throat quietly.
Havoc looked away.
Saint swallowed hard.
Sheriff Tate bowed his head.
Because the vow wasn’t professional.
Wasn’t tactical.
Wasn’t Ranger protocol.
It was personal.
Irreversible.
A line drawn in blood.
I stood, pulling Nora into my arms, her forehead pressed to my chest.
And then, quietly, shakily, she whispered—
“Then don’t leave me.”
I closed my eyes.
“I won’t.”
