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“Don’t move,” I breathe.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” she whispers.
Her lips brush my throat.
Accident.
Definitely an accident.
Still—
My grip tightens.
Not on her.
On control.
Outside, the men move through the room.
One step closer—
Another—
Then—
“Clear,” one of them mutters.
The door slams shut again.
Silence returns.
Heavy.
Charged.
I don’t move right away.
Neither does she.
Because we both know—
This isn’t just about hiding anymore.
Mila
I cannot breathe.
Not because of the danger.
Not because men with guns were just feet away from us.
No.
Because of him.
Lord.
This is not what I meant.
