Blake stood but didn’t move far. He couldn’t, not when she was looking at him like that—like the storm outside was nothing compared to what was happening in the space between them.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself back into the moment. Back into the mission. “Good,” he said softly. “Because we’re not done. And I need you as strong as you can be.”
Her lips curved—tired, small, but real. “Then don’t go far.”
A promise or a plea, he wasn’t sure. But he nodded once.
“Not a chance.”
Vivian gathered the gear that Thirteen had provided them, efficient and silent. Her movements precise, trained—but her fingers shook when she thought he wasn’t looking. He saw anyway. He always did.
He crouched to check the rifle. “We’ll need to keep to the ridgeline. Stay out of the open.”
She nodded without looking up. “You think Thirteen’s right? That they’ll be sweeping the inlet by sundown?”
“Yeah.” He cinched the strap tight. “They’ll double back, run perimeter scans. We’ll have to move fast and cold.”
Vivian zipped her coat, the sound loud in the silence. “Fast and cold,” she repeated softly. “Seems to be our specialty.”
He glanced over then—just a glance, but it lingered. Stray strands of her hair had escaped her hood, brushing her cheek in the draft. She caught him looking and held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than she should have.
The air in the room thickened. His throat worked once before he found his voice. “You should eat something before we go.”
Her lips tilted in the faintest smile. “You mean before we freeze, get shot at, and maybe rescue a kidnapped child?” She stepped closer, and he saw her intentions in her eyes.
“That’s the one.” He chuckled. “We’re a cliché.”
Her smile faded, replaced by something softer. “You’re deflecting again.”
He huffed a quiet breath, half laugh, half admission. “Habit. But true. We’re a team that spends too much time together. Things are bound to happen.”
“It’s more than that, and you and I both know it,” she said, stepping closer, her voice barely above the howling storm. “You make excuses to keep distance. Even when you’re standing right in front of me.”
The words hit harder than he wanted them to. He looked down, adjusting the strap on his pack even though it didn’t need it. “Distance keeps people alive.”
“Does it?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Vivian moved past him to the small table, sliding a pistol into her holster. “You kissed me,” she said finally, not as accusation, but as fact. “That’s not distance.”
He turned away, staring at the frost creeping along the window’s edge. “That was a mistake.” He hated himself for being the love-them-and-leave-them type she’d always thought him to be. But what could he offer her beyond this life of pain and danger?
She didn’t get mad, yell, push him away. “Was it?”
Her voice threaded into him—low, steady, impossible to ignore.
He turned back to her, eyes dark. “You think I don’t want to do that again?” The words came out rough. “You think I haven’t been trying not to look at you since the second I woke up?”
The silence after was heavy enough to feel. The storm rattled the window, ice scraping the glass.
Vivian swallowed, the faintest flush touching her neck. “Then why stop?”
“Because I can’t afford to lose you.” His tone went quiet, almost breaking. “Not to them. Not to me.”
Blake stepped forward, slow and deliberate, closing the gap between them until her breath brushed his chest. “If we make it out of this alive, maybe I’ll figure out how to do this right. How to have a life that isn’t all guns and missions.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He pressed a kiss to her forehead—chaste, careful, but it carried everything he couldn’t say.
