“I love you too,” she said.
I kissed her then—slow, careful, reverent. Not the kiss of victory or relief.
The kiss of two people who had walked through hell separately…
…and chosen each other anyway.
Outside, the Rangers packed up, the world moved on, and consequences waited.
But in that small, quiet space?
Nothing else mattered.
37
Rylie
The pain came in layers.
Not sharp—just deep. Bruised muscle, pulled tendons, the ache of having fought longer than my body wanted to. Every time I shifted, something protested. Every time I closed my eyes, the room tilted, reminding me I’d been pushed past my limits.
But I was safe.
That realization settled slowly, like a blanket being tucked around me from the inside out.
The cabin smelled faintly of coffee and pine cleaner. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in pale stripes, warming my legs beneath the quilt. A fire crackled softly in the stone hearth, the sound steady and grounding.
I focused on that.
On breathing.
On the fact that the restraints were gone.
That the walls weren’t concrete.
That the man sitting in the chair beside my bed wasn’t a stranger.
Trigger.
Eli.
He was leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped together like he was holding himself in one piece. His head was bowed, dark hair falling across his forehead, jaw rough with stubble.
He hadn’t noticed I was awake yet.
I studied him quietly.
This wasn’t the Ranger I’d seen kicking in doors or barking orders over comms. This was the man who hadn’t slept, who hadn’t moved from my side except when the medic had threatened to sedate him too.
His shoulders were tight—wound like cables stretched too far.
“Hey,” I whispered.
He lifted his head instantly, eyes locking onto mine like he’d been waiting for the sound of my voice.
“You okay?” he asked, already rising halfway out of the chair before stopping himself, like he was afraid to jostle the air around me.
I smiled faintly. “Still here.”
