A thrill shot through me.
Not fear.
Not danger.
Something far more dangerous:
Trust.
20
Nora
The upstairs apartment settled into silence after dinner.
Trigger had finally stopped shouting about tacos.
Havoc had done one last perimeter walk.
Saint had vanished into his room to read something that looked suspiciously like a spy manual.
By the time I changed into pajamas and Wolf took a quick shower, the halls were quiet… almost peaceful.
Wolf appeared in my doorway, barefoot, hair damp, wearing joggers and a simple black T-shirt stretched across his shoulders in a way that made rational thought difficult.
“You ready for bed?” he asked softly.
I nodded, heart fluttering.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him—not in a possessive way, but in athis space is safe nowway.
We climbed into bed slowly.
Awkwardly.
Tenderly.
Wolf rested on top of the covers at first, like he didn’t want to assume anything.
I touched his arm. “You can be under the blanket with me.”
He hesitated—just a breath—then slid beneath the quilt and pulled it up over both of us.
Warmth enveloped me instantly.
Wolf lay on his back, one arm behind his head. I curled closer, resting my cheek lightly on his chest.
His heartbeat thudded slow and steady beneath my ear.
“This okay?” he murmured.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Perfect.”
He exhaled softly and shifted his arm around me—protective, gentle, careful.
We lay like that for what felt like hours, the kind of quiet that made the air feel alive.
I was drifting, sinking into the warm haze between waking and sleep, when—
