She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You really aren't going to let that go, are you?"
"Not a chance."
That half-smile did something to her. It wasn't carefree or easy. It was the expression of someone who'd survived more than most people could imagine and still found reasons to smile anyway.
She shifted closer, exhaustion pulling at her. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he adjusted slightly, letting her settle against him. He was solid, warm, steady. Safe.
For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.
She closed her eyes, letting the hum of the road and the rhythm of his breathing settle her. "Thank you for coming for me," she whispered.
His fingers squeezed hers. "You really think I wouldn't?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "This is a lot. I didn't want to drag you into—"
"Stop." His voice was quiet but certain. "You didn't drag me into anything. I chose this." He paused. "You matter to me, Rachel."
She lifted her head, searching his face for any sign of hesitation or doubt. All she found was honesty.
His hand came up, brushing along her cheek. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering. Rachel leaned into his palm.
He rested his forehead against hers for a moment. "I'm not letting them take you."
The words landed hard, then he kissed her temple, slow and deliberate, and something in her chest loosened.
Ghost stayed still beside her, their hands linked.
In the front seat, Torch glanced at the rearview mirror. His mouth curved.
"So..." Torch dragged out the word. "When were you gonna tell us, Ghost?"
Ghost didn't look up. "Tell you what?"
“Oh, I don’t know,” Torch drawled out, “That you’ve got it bad for the hot journalist you just went full knight-in-tactical-armor for?”
Echo snorted. “Dude risked everything in under five hours. That’s some record-breaking attachment.”
Rachel shifted slightly, but Ghost didn’t let her go far. His arm stayed firm, grounding, not restricting. Possessive without pressure.
He sighed, finally meeting their smirking faces in the front seat. “Shut the hell up.”
Torch laughed. “No chance, man.”
Echo turned slightly in his seat to glance back. “Glad you’re okay, Parker. That got real messy, real fast.”
Rachel offered a tired smile. “Thanks, Echo. Yeah... it really did.”
Torch nodded. “Gotta say—you’ve got guts. Most people would’ve folded back there, but you didn’t.”
She smirked, dry. Honest. “I wouldn’t call it handling it. More like barely surviving it.”
Ghost’s voice cut in before anyone else could answer, low and certain. “You did more than survive.”
Rachel turned to him, caught off guard by the conviction in his voice.
Before she could speak, Torch let out a mock gasp, hand to his chest. “Oh my god. Did you hear that, Echo? He cares.”
Ghost didn’t blink. “Say one more word, and I’m throwing you out of a moving vehicle.”
