We remain like that for a few minutes. I trail my finger along the muscles of his back, memorizing every ridge and dip like they're mine to claim. His breath fans my forehead gently, anchoring me in the calm. This is a perfect moment, one that I don't want to be over, but perfect moments are fleeting.
It's like Finn reads my mind. He slowly pulls away, his hand lingering on my waist. "I'll be right back," he says and slides off the bed. I watch as he moves into what I assume is the bathroom. I sit up too, dragging the blanket up to my chest as I look around the room, already missing his warmth.
Everything looks beautiful and mundane. From the closet to the small office tucked in the corner, to the floor-to-ceiling window that offers a view of the outside world. I slip out of bed, dragging the covers aside and slipping into Finn's jacket, the sleeves hanging long past my wrists. It smells like him, tropical, clean, and warm. Comforting.
I look around the room. Unlike the safe house, the furniture isn't covered in white cloth. Everything is neat, perfectly placed, like someone just finished tidying up minutes ago. The faint smell of lemon polish lingers in the air.
I look out the window, and there's nothing out there. Just a long stretch of empty land, trees in the distance, and sky above, clear and beautiful. No signs of buildings, no sign of life. I don't know where we are, maybe another safe house or... my eyes land on a small bookshelf tucked beside the office desk. I move toward it, tracing my finger along the spines until one catches my attention.
"The Psychology of Power," I read aloud, raising a brow. I groan.
"Not to your taste?" Finn's voice cuts through the silence, smooth and playful. I turn around to find him standing by the bathroom, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, drying his hair with another. The droplets of water sliding down his chest are far more interesting than any book on that shelf.
"Nothing bores me more than reading nonfiction," I say, slipping the book back into its place.
He chuckles, walking over to the closet. "I know that."
"Where are we?" I ask as he opens the closet.
"One of my possessions," he says, reaching for a black sweatshirt and pants. Typical. "Declan doesn't know about this place."
I glance around again. "It looks so clean." Finn nods as he slips the sweatshirt over his head.
"Yeah, I called someone last night to clean it up. Figured we might need it." I raise my brow. That actually makes sense. Finn has always been a detail-oriented man. After finishing putting on his pants, his eyes find me again, a teasing smirk forming on his lips as they drop to his shirt on my body.
I narrow my gaze at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, suspicion laced with curiosity in my voice.
"You look hot in my shirt," he answers without hesitation, closing the closet behind him. Heat rushes to my cheeks so fast I can barely hide it. I bite my lip, trying not to smile. Of course, he would say that casually, like it doesn't turn my insides to mush.
Finn walks to the small office and takes a seat behind the desk. I follow him, slipping into a chair across from him. He starts rifling through the drawer, flipping through files and folders, his brows slightly furrowed in thought. "What are you searching for?" I ask, resting my chin on my palm.
Finn stops and meets my eyes, something more serious flickering in them. "We need to try and figure out what to do next." I nod slowly, my chest tightening. He's right. We can't justkeep hiding and hoping Declan won't find us. We need to make a move before he does, before it's too late.
"Do you have any plans in mind?" I ask, relaxing into the chair. Finn nods.
"I do." That makes me sit up straighter, a flicker of hope lighting in my chest.
"What's your plan?" I ask, eyes widening, needing something, anything to hold on to.
He leans forward slightly, arms resting on the desk as he studies me. "I thought about this in the bathroom." I raise my brow, waiting for him to speak. "I need to find Liam."
I blink, not ringing any bell at first, then... It hits me. Liam. Finn's eldest brother from the picture. My brow draws together. "Wait... isn't Liam dead?"
"No, he's not," Finn answers.
"What?"
"I know my brother. Liam is biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to return," Finn answers. I blink. Our families are a mess.
"Do you know where he is? And are you sure he's going to help?"
Finn runs his hand through his hair. "No and no."
"Okay, that's not comforting to hear," I say, leaning back into the chair.
"I've been researching and combing through information on where he might be," Finn says, his hand moving over the documents on the table. "We don't have much choice. This is one avenue we can explore."
CHAPTER 25
