She leans into me, and her voice drops. “No leads on Mark?”
I shake my head once.
Her fingers curl lightly around my wrist. “He’ll show up.”
“He will,” I agree, but my tone is hard. “And when he does, we finish it.”
Kayley’s eyes lift to mine. There’s no fear there anymore. Not like before. She’s still careful, still protective of Aidan in a way that makes sense, but she’s steadier now.
Because she believes in us.
In Haven 7.
Inme.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says quietly, like she knows my mind is already preparing for war.
I soften, pressing my mouth to her temple. “Good. Because neither am I.”
Aidan fusses in my arms, squirming until I put him down again. He crawls toward his blanket fort—yes, Kayley made a blanket fort for him, and yes, it’s absurdly adorable—and disappears inside like he’s got important baby business.
Kayley watches him, smiling. Then she looks back at me, expression turning mischievous. “So,” she says, “how long until you admit you enjoy being domesticated?”
I arch a brow. “Domesticated?”
She points toward the corner where there’s a stack of baby toys, a diaper bag hanging neatly on a hook, and a tiny pair of socks draped over the back of the couch like a surrender flag. “This is not the cabin of a lone wolf.”
I glance around and realize she’s right.
There are signs of them everywhere. Proof that I’m not alone. And I don’t want to be.
I step closer, hooking a finger under her chin. “I’m not domesticated.”
Kayley smiles. “Mm-hmm.”
“I’m… strategically reallocated.”
She laughs, leaning into my touch. “Sure, Commander.” Hearing her call me that still does something to me—something warm and possessive and proud. Like she trusts me with the title and the man underneath it.
I’m about to kiss her when the radio on the counter crackles.
Rhett’s voice comes through, clipped and irritated. “Messer. You got a minute?”
Kayley’s smile turns into a smirk. “Uh-oh.”
I grab the radio. “Go ahead.”
“Silas found something,” Rhett says. “Not Renshaw. But… adjacent.”
My body goes still. “Explain.”
A pause. Then Rhett’s voice drops. “There’s chatter about a ‘clean-up crew’ moving through neighboring counties. Same pattern—missing reports, altered paperwork. Someone’s smoothing the edges.”
My jaw tightens. “Renshaw’s people.”
“Or the people protecting him,” Rhett says. “Either way, it’s not over.”
Kayley’s hand slides into mine, squeezing once. Steadying.
