Gradually, our breathing slowed, heartbeats returning to normal rhythm. Burke rolled to the side, taking his weight off me but keeping our bodies connected, one arm thrown possessively across my chest. The late afternoon light painted golden stripes across the bed, across our tangled limbs and sweat-dampened skin.
Without thinking, my hand moved to my stomach, fingers splaying protectively over the place where our child grew. The gesture was becoming instinctual, a silent promise to the tiny life inside—I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you. You are loved.
Burke’s eyes followed the movement, his expression softening from sated to something deeper, more reverent. He covered my hand with his own, our fingers intertwining over my still-flat belly.
“Both of you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’ll protect both of you. No matter what it takes.”
I nodded, too full of emotion to speak. In a few hours, Burke‘s mysterious brother would arrive, bringing with him a set of skills I didn’t want to think about too deeply.
Dennis was still out there, ankle monitor or not, his threats echoing in my head whenever I let my guard down. The future was uncertain in a hundred different ways.
But right now, in this moment, with Burke’s body curved around mine like a shield, his hand warm and steady over our growing child, I felt something I’d almost forgotten existed.
I felt safe.
Chapter Fifteen
~ Burke ~
I stood alone on the private runway, my breath fogging in the cold night air as I checked my watch for the third time in as many minutes. 03:01. Sterling had never been late for anything in his life, which meant he was right on schedule—he just liked to make an entrance. The kind that made people check their insurance policies and update their wills.
Above me, the Montana sky stretched vast and black, stars scattered across it like diamond dust. No moon tonight—Sterling would have checked that before he jumped.
The temperature had dropped well below freezing, but I barely felt it through my jacket and the adrenaline already pumping through my system.
Three years. That’s how long it had been since I’d seen my twin. Three years of occasional texts, rarer calls, and the knowledge that wherever Sterling was—Afghanistan, Syria, places that didn’t officially exist—he was doing things that kept the rest of us safe while taking pieces of himself I wasn’t sure he could get back.
And now he was coming here, to the place I’d built a life. To meet the man carrying my child. To face the threat that had made me break our three-year silence.
I spotted him first as a darker shadow against the night sky—a human-shaped speck that grew rapidly as it fell. No plane, no visible extraction point. Just Sterling, free-falling from God knew what altitude, controlling his descent with the precision that had made him legend in certain circles.
The parachute deployed with a soft whump that carried on the still air, the black fabric invisible except where it blocked the stars. Sterling guided himself down with practiced ease,touching down twenty yards from where I stood with barely a sound.
Even after years of watching him work, it still impressed me how he could make a two-hundred-pound man in combat gear land quieter than most people walking across carpet.
He was on the move before the chute had fully collapsed, gathering the fabric with quick, economical movements. No wasted motion, no hesitation—just pure efficiency honed through thousands of hours of training and operational experience.
I stepped forward as he finished stowing his gear in the pack at his feet. “Show off,” I grunted, the word carrying clearly in the night quiet.
Sterling straightened, and for a split second, I felt like I was looking in a mirror—same height, same build, same face. Then he turned fully toward me, and the illusion shattered. Where my eyes held warmth, his were flat and assessing. Where my mouth relaxed naturally into something approaching a smile, his stayed set in a neutral line that revealed nothing.
“Had to make sure the LZ was clear,” he said, voice pitched low. Same as mine, but stripped of the warmth that made people trust me on sight. “Old habits.”
We fell into step together, heading toward the distant lights of the house. Sterling moved like he was on patrol—shoulders loose but ready, head on a swivel, taking in everything with those cold eyes. I’d seen him spot a sniper at eight hundred yards in conditions that had the rest of us squinting. Nothing got past Sterling. Nothing.
“You look good,” I said, because someone had to break the silence. “Healthy.”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “You look soft,” he countered. “Domestic.”
The word should have stung, but I heard what he wasn’t saying—that soft was good. That domestic was what I’d been aiming for. That maybe, just maybe, he was a little jealous beneath all that military reserve.
“Got a lot to be soft for these days,” I said, unable to keep the pride from my voice.
Sterling shot me a sidelong glance. “The omega?”
“Danny,” I confirmed. “And the baby.”
That got a reaction—a slight widening of the eyes, quickly controlled. “How far along?”
