Ellsworth's mouth twitched—the closest thing to a smile I'd seen from him.
"We prefer 'omnishambles,'" he said. "Though in particularly dire circumstances, one might escalate to 'catastrofuck.'"
Despite everything, I laughed. "That sounds about right."
When we pulled up to The Sanctuary, I didn't wait for Ellsworth to open my door. I was out of the car and moving before it fully stopped.
I took the stairs two at a time, my pulse hammering in my ears. Not from exertion. From anticipation. From the need to see her, to make sure she was okay, to?—
I pushed open the door to my room.
And there she was.
Mila sat at the head of the bed, covers pulled around her like a cocoon, her dark hair falling loose over her shoulders. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale.
When she saw me, tears sprang to her eyes immediately.
"Mila—"
I crossed the room in three strides and dropped to my knees beside the bed, my hands reaching for her before I could stop myself.
"I'm so sorry," I said, the words tumbling out. "Everything got worked out. I'm here. I'm okay."
She nodded, her breath hitching.
"I'm ready to tell you everything I can," I continued, my voice rough. "All of it. Whatever you need to know."
She shook her head.
My heart clenched.
Oh, shit. This is it.
She was going to say she was done. That this was too much. That she didn't sign up for police stations and break-ins and men with pasts that chased them across continents.
And she'd be right.
It was the only thing I deserved.
But then she spoke, and the words weren't what I expected.
"Later," she said softly. "We can talk later."
I blinked. "Mila?—"
"Right now," she interrupted, her voice steadier, "I want you."
Heat slammed through me, sudden and overwhelming.
I stared at her, my brain struggling to catch up with what she'd just said.
She wanted me.
Not explanations. Not apologies. Not the truth I'd been bracing myself to give.
Me.
Her hand reached out, fingers brushing my jaw, and the touch sent a jolt straight through my chest.
