Her throat tightened at the fierce conviction in his voice, the way he made it sound like a vow. "But what if Guardian can't disprove it? What then? They could put me in prison for the rest of my life." Her hand trembled as she dragged it across her face. "All I've ever wanted was to tell the truth. Étienne died trying to do it. His investigator died defending his work and his name. And now, Zajac wants to bury me so the truth never sees daylight."
Blake's hand lifted to cup her cheek, the warmth of his palm steadying her, his touch achingly gentle. She leaned into it involuntarily, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
"Zajac will never touch you. His men will never touch you. If the worst comes and Guardian can't stop this, I'll get you out of Hungary. I'll take you back to the States. We'll create a new identity for you. You'll be safe."
Her eyes burned as she pressed her hand over his, their fingers intertwining. "You don't understand. Journalism is my life. It's who I am. A journalist can't hide. What would I be in the United States? Who would I become?" She started to ease his hand away, but he resisted, his fingers tightening on hers.
"I hate this," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I hate that I doubt you. I hate that I need proof. But I can't rest my future on the word of a man I've known for only days." Even as she said it, her body screamed against pulling away from his touch. "I need facts, Blake. Grounding facts that I can see, that I know are real. Show me."
He didn't hesitate. With his free hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket, swiping quickly, never breaking eye contact. "Watch."
The video played, and Elise's heart stuttered. There she was. It was her face, her body … and she was lifting a gun and shooting three men in cold blood. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God. How could they do that?"
"AI," Blake said simply, his thumb stroking across her knuckles. "Deepfakes have become a problem."
He swiped again, showing her another feed. Two men at a hotel desk. Their voices carried. Someone in that suite was wanted for murder. No name, but the clerk handed them a key. Another swipe, and the footage changed. The same two men stepping off the elevator, heading straight for their door. Then Blake appeared.
The sudden, brutal efficiency with which he took them down was terrifying in its precision yet undeniably arousing. Elise's breath snagged in her chest as she watched him move with deadly force, every motion controlled, purposeful. This was the man who’d sworn to protect her, whose hands could be gentle on her skin one moment and lethal the next.
The feed jumped ahead to hotel security arriving, the unconscious men on the floor. Then the door opening, Blake's lips moving in conversation she couldn't hear, and finally, the video ended.
"What happened to them?" she whispered, her voice husky.
"Hotel security handed them over to Budapest police. They were released thirty minutes after we left the hotel." Blake pocketed the phone and moved to sit beside her on the couch, close enough that their thighs touched, and she could feel the heat of his body.
Her strength deserted her. She leaned against his shoulder, breathing in his scent, the weight of everything pressing her down. "I'm caught in a nightmare. The only thing keeping me from breaking down right now is not wanting to do it in front of you."
His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close until she was nearly in his lap, his voice low and rough against her hair. "Let it out, Elise. Anger. Hurt. Confusion. If you don't, it'll eat you alive."
At first, she fought it, pressing her lips together so hard the muscles in her jaw ached. She clenched her fists in her lap, nails digging into her palms, willing the tears not to fall. But her body betrayed her. The dam inside cracked, and a sob broke free, raw and jagged.
Blake tightened his hold without a word, pulling her fully against him until she was cradled in his arms, anchored against the solid heat of his chest. The faint scent of soap and something uniquely male clung to him, intoxicating and sharp. His heartbeat was a solid thud beneath her cheek, steady where hers raced out of control.
She pressed her face into his neck, her tears dampening his skin. The sobs came harder, wracking her body until she trembled, her breath hitching as grief and fury collided. Allthe fear she had shoved down, all the rage at Zajac, all the helplessness of being hunted spilled out in jagged gasps.
Blake said nothing. He didn't hush her or tell her it would be fine. He simply held her through the storm, one arm banded around her waist, the other buried in her hair, his fingers tangling in the silky strands. The rhythm of his touch told her he wasn't going anywhere, that he would hold her together when she couldn't do it herself.
Finally, when her sobs ebbed into hiccupped breaths, she pulled back a fraction, suddenly aware of how intimately they were positioned, how her hands had fisted in his shirt, how close their faces were. Her vision blurred, cheeks damp, throat raw. "I hate that he has this kind of power over me," she whispered, her voice broken. "I hate that he can twist everything until it looks like I'm the one who's guilty."
Blake's gaze locked on hers, fierce and unflinching, his hand still cupping the back of her head. His thumb brushed away a stray tear with devastating gentleness. "Zajac is trying to drown you in lies. But I won't let him."
Her breath shivered at the conviction in his voice and the way his touch made her feel both fragile and infinitely precious. For a moment, she believed him more than she believed herself.
"But what if the world believes the lies?" she asked, her voice still trembling.
"Then I'll fight the world." His hand tightened at her waist, drawing her in until their foreheads touched, until she could feel his breath against her lips, the firelight flickering across the hard planes of his face. "Guardian doesn't lose. And I don't lose. I won’t lose you."
The words lodged in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. His closeness stole the oxygen from the room, but for the first time since this nightmare began, the confusion and panic inside her eased. She let herself lean into him, closing her eyes asher body gave way to his strength, acutely aware of every point where they touched.
"Just … don't let go," she whispered against his lips, the words barely audible.
"Never." His answer was a vow, the kind that settled deep in her bones and lower, in places that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with need.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The air between them crackled with tension, with want barely held in check. Then Elise drew in a shaky breath and forced herself to pull back slightly, though Blake's arms didn't release her entirely. Did she want to pull away? God, no. She wanted this man to hold her. Actually, she wanted him to do so much more than hold her. She wanted him to fulfill desires that had been stacking up on a wish list as long as her arm. But how? How did she admit to the man that she was more than slightly interested without … without becoming vulnerable.
She swiped at her damp cheeks, embarrassed by the rawness she’d shown him, but the look in his eyes carried no judgment. Only desire and determination so fierce it made her stomach flutter.
She straightened her spine, trying to ignore how his thumb was still tracing patterns on her hip. "So, what's next? We can't just sit here waiting for Guardian to send word. If Zajac is already planting evidence, if the police start buying into this narrative, I'm screwed."
