I kiss her back, hard and claiming.
We stand there. Holding each other. Alive. Together.
We're alive. We're together. We lost tonight.
But we'll win next time.
Because now I understand what I have.
Not just a wife. A partner. An equal. Someone as dangerous as I am.
And I'm finally ready to let her be that.
CHAPTER 29
Gemma
We don't talk that night.
Saint holds me. We have desperate, urgent sex. The kind that's more about confirming we're alive than actual intimacy.
Then we sleep. Or try to.
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.
Igor's death. The gunfire. Saint covering me with his body.
I love you.
He said it in the middle of chaos like it was pulled out of him by fear. It had been desperate because we both thought we were going to die, and while some women might find those dying words sweet, I wasn't one of them.
In the quiet dark, he hasn't repeated it, and it makes me wonder if he meant them.
He kissed me sweetly, and then, fucked me dirty, but we didn't talk. We never talk.
That's one of our problems.
He does something. I react. We fight. We fuck, and then, we pretend everything is okay. The problem with that cycle is that things are okay for a while, even if neither of us are really happy.
I sigh, turning over to stare at Saint. The moonlight is playing across his features. Even in sleep, he looks serious, and I want to reach out to smooth the lines between his eyes.
I love you.
Those words ring in my mind, and I want to ask him if he meant them.
I simply don't know how.
I close my eyes, my mind racing. I need to sleep, but I can't.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Morning comes. Saint is already up and dressed just like he always is. I've never met someone who functions on such little sleep.
I didn't fall asleep until three in the morning, and I'm groggy as I come to.
"Where are you going?" I ask, eyes barely open.
"Meeting with the captains," he says. "They want to talk about last night. There's a new player, and I imagine that it's only a matter of time before Artem makes a move."
