Chapter Sixteen
Kayne woke slowly withChloe’s taste still ghosting on his mouth, sweet and maddening.Her breath was warm where she’d tucked herself into his throat sometime in the night, as if she belonged there.As if she’d always belonged there.
For one rare, dangerous moment, he let himself believe the world might finally be shifting in the right direction.That maybe being with her wasn’t just borrowed time.
Then her phone chimed.
It was a soft, innocent sound that had no business detonating his nervous system the way it did.The polite little ping felt like a gunshot.
And just like that, the world tilted straight back to hell.
“It’s the Children’s Heart Collective,” Chloe murmured, blinking at the screen before bolting upright, the sheet slipping down her back.“Oh no!The charity event is this morning.I completely forgot.”
Kayne sat up as if someone had dumped ice water over him, every muscle snapping online.“What event?”
“It’s a livestream class at Forest Park,” she said, already moving, already gone mentally, the way he learned she would do when locked onto a purpose.“For charity.”
“No.”
She froze mid-motion and turned to stare at him.“What do you mean, no?”She shoved her hair into a ponytail, fingers quick and efficient, cheeks pink with stubbornness.“You can’t tell me no.I committed months ago.”
“You also weren’t being hunted like a hen in turkey season when you agreed,” he shot back, the edge in his voice slipping before he could blunt it.
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin.Steel slid into place behind her eyes.She gave him the look, the one that said she’d already decided and his opinion was just background noise now.“Kayne, the event funds cardiac surgeries for kids.I am not backing out.I don’t care what you say.”
He scrubbed both hands down his face, the tension pressing behind his eyes.It would be an open park with civilians.Variables stacked on variables, all of them capable of going sideways fast.“I haven’t had a chance to adequately surveil the surroundings.”
“You have four hours,” she said calmly, adding a slightly condescending pat to his chest.“Knock yourself out.”
She stalked to the bathroom, pretending danger was an inconvenience she could muscle through with good intentions and a tight ponytail.
Kayne watched her, jaw locked, already mapping exits, sightlines, and choke points, counting angles he didn’t like and contingencies he liked even less.
Hell had tilted back into place, but he’d be damned if it was taking her with it.
#
Chloe had exactly forty-five minutes to transform from the woman who’d woken up snuggling a man who was far too distracting into the woman who led thousands through burpees on camera.
She moved fast.
Leggings first.Black, high-waisted, the pair that didn’t roll or betray her mid-squat.Sports bra next, then a tank with the charity logo splashed across the chest in cheerful teal letters:Children’s Heart Collective.Move for a Cause.She tugged her ponytail tighter, the familiar burn at her scalp grounding her in a way meditation never had.It was a sharp little reminder that she was still in her body and not her head.
Movement she understood.Fear, not so much.
Her phone sat on the bathroom counter, vibrating intermittently as texts rolled in.Sandy from the web team.A producer from the livestream.Leo, probably pacing holes through the floor somewhere.She ignored all of them and focused on mascara, because that was something she could control.One coat.Two.Blink.Don’t stab your own eye, which would be a truly embarrassing way to get out of the event.
She caught her reflection and paused.Her cheeks were flushed already, pulse ticking a little too fast for someone who hadn’t even warmed up.She told herself it was nerves.Cameras and crowds did that.This wasn’t about the fact that someone out there might want to hurt her.
It wasn’t.
“Chloe.”
Kayne’s voice carried from the bedroom, low and controlled, threaded with tension that made her spine straighten on instinct.He hadn’t raised it once since she’d dropped the Forest Park bomb, but she’d learned enough about him to recognize danger in the quiet.It meant he was already ten steps ahead and still unhappy about it.
She walked into the room, sneakers dangling from her fingers.He stood near the window, already dressed, his phone in hand, jaw tight as a winch, and every line of him pulled taut.
“They’re setting up the stage now,” he said.“Anja’s on her way.Leo’s coordinating with park security.I’ve got eyes on entry points and crowd flow.”
