I groan and giggle, but Hawk simply smiles.
I want to freeze this moment, put it in a box and hide it where no one can find it. For the first time in years, I’m not calculating angles or counting steps to the door. I am just here.
At some point, Hawk falls asleep, sprawled diagonally across the sheets. I watch him for a long time, memorizing the way his chest rises and falls, the faint crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the scar at his left collarbone. I let myself touch it, tracing the line with my finger. He doesn’t stir. I wonder who gave it to him, and if it hurt as much as the ones I carry under my own skin.
Chapter 15
Hawk
Our second night was even better the first. I wake before she does, mostly out of habit. The suite is quiet, just the slow rhythm of her breathing against my shoulder.
Kat is curled toward me, one hand resting lightly against my chest like she anchored herself there sometime in the night. I don’t move yet. The world outside this room will restart soon enough. For now, I’m staying in this moment with her.
Kat stirs a few minutes later, lashes lifting slowly. There’s a split second where she looks disoriented — then her eyes focus on me and she remembers.
“You’re still here,” she murmurs.
“Wasn’t planning on leaving.”
The corner of her mouth curves faintly. That expression alone is worth every deviation I made. I slide carefully out of bed and pull on yesterday’s jeans, leaving her tangled in the sheets for another minute.
Coffee first.
The suite has a small machine near the mini bar. I make two cups and crack the curtains just enough to let morning spill in without fully exposing us to the city.
When I turn on the television, it’s mostly background noise. Until it isn’t.
“…breaking overnight developments in what authorities are calling a high-level cybercrime and financial fraud investigation…”
I glance up. Video fills the screen. Police vehicles outside the same building we exited approximately thirty-six hours ago. Men in suits being escorted out in handcuffs. Faces I recognize from the suite. The director among them — composed even now, but pale.
“…federal and international compliance agencies moved in late yesterday following an irregularity in a private diamond certification transfer—”
Kat steps up beside me. She goes very still.
“They moved fast,” she says quietly.
“They were waiting for something,” I reply.
On-screen footage shifts to a close-up of sealed evidence cases.
“…sources indicate embedded export-controlled processors discovered within certification hardware—”
There it is. Now, it’s public and exposed. Kat exhales slowly.
“They won’t recover from this,” she says.
“No.”
She watches a moment longer — not with triumph, but with closure. My phone vibrates on the table. Heartline secure line. Right on schedule. She looks at me.
“Debrief?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“You expecting trouble?”
“I’m expecting something.”
