That hits a raw spot, but I’m staying on mission. “I don’t want toownher,” I say. “I want hersafe.I want her happy.”
“Spare me,” he says. “I’ve seen how this ends.”
“Yeah, when people shut down,” I shoot back. “When they decide it’s all or nothing.”
Viper steps closer, voice low. “What if nothing is safer?”
“That’s the lie I told myself for years.” I shake my head. “Opening up isn’t easy. I dug in my heels and fought it every step.”
His mouth pulls into a hard line.
“But she didn’t let me hide,” I continue. “She didn’t walk away.”
He lets out a breath and returns to his task, but he looks up when I speak again. “I know you care about her,” I say, holding his gaze.“Youfucking know you care about her. You’re not protecting yourself. You’re choosing to be lonely.”
When I leave the armory, my hands are shaking, but my resolve is set.
Kira’s right not to walk away, and I’m not walking away, either.
Not from her, and not from him.
CHAPTER 39
KIRA
Atlas, Grizz, and I are cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. Outside, snow is coming down heavy, coating everything in white. The storm was forecast, and the men are ready for it, but none of us are expecting it when the sky cracks open.
As I’m drying the last plate, thunder suddenly booms overhead, loud enough to rattle the windows.
All three of us flinch, as the sound reverberates through the house.
“Thundersnow,” Atlas says grimly, exchanging a look with Grizz, who curses under his breath.
The lights flicker twice, then go out.
Appliances power off as cool white lighting comes on from strips hidden beneath the cabinets.
A muted flash of lightning is immediately followed by anotherloud thunderclap.
After a few eerie seconds, there’s a distant mechanical rumble, then the house gradually comes back to life, some lights dimming and flickering before eventually burning bright.
“Generator’s cycling,” Atlas confirms.
As Grizz heads toward the mudroom, Atlas tells him, “I’ll make sure the servers are back online, then meet you out at the generators.”
I hug my arms and look around. “What can I do?”
“You sit tight and stay warm. We’ve got it handled.” Atlas gives me a quick kiss and heads downstairs.
As the sky flashes and thunder booms, I put away the last dish and straighten the dish towels. With nothing left to clean, I settle onto the couch and reach for my crochet project. I don’t feel like sitting still, but keeping my hands busy should relax me.
When I reach for the fleece blanket that’s usually on the back of the couch, I remember that I was using it earlier in the ops center. As I go downstairs to retrieve it, the storm sounds grow duller. The thick walls and the absence of large windows on the lower level help muffle the noise.
Equipment hums as usual, but as I get closer to the command desk, I hear something else.
It sounds like heavy breathing.
Heart pounding, I freeze. I watch and listen for movement, but there’s nothing but the sound of ragged exhalations.
