The space between them was a chasm. He jerked back. "Ayla...God." His voice was rough, scraped raw. Somehow, in the middle of his soul-searching and disorientation about Blair, he’d missed every single signal Ayla sent him. What a clueless idiot he was. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I think you're sweet and brave, and so damn competent, but my feelings lie elsewhere. This is all my fault."
Her expression didn't crumble. Instead, the mortification that flashed in her eyes was quickly banked, replaced by a sharp, self-directed professionalism. A flush still climbed her neck, a tell-tale sign of her embarrassment, but her spine remained straight. She took a deliberate step back, creating a clean, physical line between them.
"No," she said, her voice firm, though a little tight. "Don't say that. It's not all your fault. I misread the situation. I let my own...hopes...get in the way of good judgment." She gave a short, sharp shake of her head, as if angry at herself. "I'm sorry, Breakneck. That was out of line. It won't happen again."
She met his gaze directly, her own clear and steady despite the crestfallen disappointment he could see swimming in their depths. She wasn't a woman who would crumble from a rejection. She was a sailor who had made a tactical error and was now assessing the damage. She owned her part in it completely, which only made him feel like more of an asshole. The easy camaraderie they'd shared was now irrevocably changed.
The smell of burned powder lingered in the air, sharp and familiar, grounding in a way Ayla needed now. She stripped the mag from her weapon and set it aside, hands steady, even though her pulse wasn’t.
She told herself she had been riding the adrenaline. That the closeness meant nothing.
But Breakneck stood beside her like gravity had shifted. Solid. Calm. Focused. He always seemed to be absorbing the world at a deeper frequency, like everything around him mattered more than it should. Today, especially today, he’d felt different. More open than before.
His energy and his apology were beautiful on him, and the fact was that she couldn’t really fault him. She had been seduced by him in so many ways, but most especially by the way he handled himself. She’d get over it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.
He’d been so sweet to her, and this didn’t change anything. She’d seen him like this before, when she’d broken down after the RPG incident. He’d listened. Really listened weith a steady presence and quiet understanding. He hadn’t tried to fix her. He’d just been there.
Men rarely acted like that.
She glanced at him again, taking in the way his shoulders stayed loose even when his eyes were sharp, the way his hands remained at his sides. There was something gentle under all that lethal capability, something that made her chest ache in a way she didn’t quite understand.
His hesitation when she’d told him he was different hit her square in the heart. He hadn’t been deflecting. He wasn’t playing coy. He just didn’t see what she saw, and that made her heart ache differently for him.
Still, she smiled. Because what was the alternative? Pretend she didn’t feel this pull? Pretend the air between them hadn’t been shifting for weeks? Pretend that she hadn’t kissed him?
She swallowed, heat flooding her face as reality rushed in. She’d built it all in her head.
She forced a breath, squared her shoulders. “Whoever it is you’ve been preoccupied with, she’s lucky,” she said. Just stating the truth.
He looked away, his face contorting. “Maybe not.”
There was agony in his voice. That almost made it worse.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he cut in quickly. “You took a chance and that’s courageous. I respect that.”
She smiled because it was easier than crying.
“Guess I’m still calibrating,” she said lightly. “Bad data.”
He huffed a small breath, grateful for the deflection. “Happens to the best of us.”
She stepped back, putting space where her heart needed it most. The ache was sharp, but clean. Some regret because Kelly was the type of man who deserved someone good.
As she walked away, she let herself feel it fully. Just the quiet, aching truth. He wasn’t meant for her, and she would never make that mistake again with another Tier 1 operator. She should have been smarter, and next time she would be.
The air in Vancouver felt too soft.
The moisture curled against her skin the second she stepped off the plane. Salt and eucalyptus and the faint trace of stage makeup.
Blair didn’t believe in ghosts.
But this city had a way of pressing old versions of herself back to the surface.
She hadn’t wanted to leave Breakneck like that. God knew what he must be carrying right now. But she couldn’t let her little sister down, and she sensed he needed space to breathe. Ayla. Her. The weight she’d seen in his eyes when he’d refused to touch her on the studio floor.
She’d walked in on something she didn’t understand. She refused to let her mind turn it into something it wasn’t.
