“Good morning,” he murmurs against my hair.
I laugh breathlessly. “Good morning.”
Morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden. Outside, the ranch is waking up—I can hear the distant sounds of horses and the low rumble of a truck engine. But here, in this bed, wrapped in Mason's arms, the world feels far away.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “You don’t ever have to thank me for touching you like you matter.”
I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. “I don't want to spend the rest of my life just surviving.”
“Good.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering there. “Because I want you living, pretty girl. Boldly. Safely. With me.”
With me.
The words crack something open in my chest. Without thought, I whisper, “Always.”
Mason goes completely still. Then his arm tightens around me, firm and possessive. “Always,” he says, like he’s making a vow.
71
MASON
Iwake up again sometime later with Lily curled against my chest, her breath warm against my skin. We must have both fallen back asleep.
For a long time, I don't move. I just watch her—the way her lashes rest against her cheeks, the slight part of her lips, the complete surrender of her body that tells me she feels safe here with me.
Mine.
The word echoes through my chest like a drumbeat. I've spent years keeping people at arm's length. Maintaining control. Staying detached. It's how I survived, how I stayed effective. The sniper who watches from a mile out, never getting too close, never letting anyone in.
But Lily shattered that when she walked into my life.
My hand moves to her hair, threading through the golden strands. She shifts slightly in her sleep, pressing closer, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest.
I don't want to leave this bed—don't want to leave her.
But the sun's up, and Jake and Luke will be in the command center by now. We need to coordinate tonight and tomorrow’s mission. The operation is escalating faster than any of usanticipated and we need to run through all possible scenarios to be prepared.
Carefully, I extract myself from her body. Lily murmurs something unintelligible but doesn't wake. I pull the blanket up over her bare shoulder, then force myself to step back.
Shadow lifts his head from his spot by the door, watching me with knowing eyes.
“Stay,” I tell him quietly. “Guard her.”
He settles back down, content to guard the cottage while I'm gone.
I pull on jeans, a thermal shirt, boots. The routine is automatic, muscle memory from years of late-night ops and early-morning drills. I grab my jacket from the hook by the door and step outside into the cool Montana morning.
The air hits me like a slap—sharp, clean, bracing. I breathe it in deep, letting it clear my head.
The ranch is quiet. The main house is dark except for a single light in the kitchen. The stable looms ahead, solid and familiar.
I head for it.
Inside it’s warmer than outside, insulated by hay bales and the body heat of the horses. I move through the main aisle, past the stalls, to the trapdoor under the pile of hay.
Luke found the space by accident. When we checked, it’s not marked anywhere on the floor plans for the ranch, so we decided to make it our command center. It's not much: a folding table, a couple of chairs, some computers and monitors, and a secure radio for comms. But it's ours. We’re thinking of expanding it.
