I nod to where she’s cradling her belly inher hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She looks down and smiles. “I felt the baby moving again.”
I don’t usually experience things like warmth or tenderness, but the hopeful look on her face tugs at my chest. “You talk about your baby like you already know them.”
“I feel like I do, in a way.” Her focus shifts to the distant treeline, and she’s silent for a minute, before saying, “I’m not just living for myself anymore. Everything I do affects my child.”
When I don’t say anything, she goes on. “I want my son or daughter to have a normal childhood. Friends. School. Maybe even a yard to play in. It can’t happen if I’m always looking over my shoulder.” She hesitates. “Do you think that’s possible? With everything that’s going on?”
I consider my answer carefully. “Yes,” I say, finally. “We’re going to make it possible.”
She kicks at a clump of snow with the tip of her boot. “You say that like it’s a fact.”
“It will be.”
When I glance at her a moment later, tears are sparkling in her eyes. Her voice wobbles, and my throat thickens. “Thank you,” she says.
“For what?”
“For everything you’re doing behind the scenes. You’re the reason we have a plan, and I wouldn’t be alive without you. You’re risking a lot to do it, too.”
Before I can respond, she touches my arm with the tips of her fingers,and a jolt shoots through me.
It’s not lust, though I’m not immune to her beauty. To the ripe fullness of her hips. The soft swell of her breasts.
But what's hitting me now is something far more dangerous.
“You don’t owe me thanks,” I manage. “I’m just doing my job.”
She curls her fingers around the sleeve of my jacket. “You’re doing a lot for me, and I feel so much safer because of it.”
This woman is putting her trust in me with no hesitation.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I tell her, swallowing hard.
She pulls her hand back, looking hurt. “Do what?”
“Put your trust in someone so easily.”
She draws in a breath and meets my eyes again. “It isn’t easy,” she whispers. “Not anymore. But I still trust you.”
She looks at me for a few more seconds, chin up, proud. Finally, she turns and walks off, leaving me standing there with a shaky pulse as old instincts come roaring back to life. Not the violent ones that were trained into muscle memory, but the protective ones I buried after leaving the Corps.
There’s something about this woman. Her quiet dignity, her resilience, the fierce hopes she has for a child she hasn’t even met yet. She still has faith, even though fear would be more logical after what she’s been through.
All of it makes me want to be worthy of the trust she’s placed in me.
And that’s more terrifying than the enemy outside our walls.
CHAPTER 13
KIRA
“Kira? Got a minute?”
Atlas is outside my bedroom door, respectfully knocking on the frame, even though the door is open.
“Sure. C’mon in.” I’m arranging new clothes he ordered for me into neat piles. I hadn’t needed anything new, but now with more outfits, I won’t have to do my laundry as often.
