My survival instincts flare.
The deep, relaxed peace vanishes. My heart hammers a warning rhythm against my ribs. The mountain isolation provides safety, but it also provides a perfect, silent graveyard if Dominic’s assassins found our trail.
Rafe’s borrowed tactical canvas pants hang loosely on my hips. His oversized dark t-shirt swallows my torso. The thick material still smells intensely of him—baked leather and gun oil. It’s the scent of the man who branded my soul on the bearskin rug.
I tiptoe down the short, dusty hallway. The old floorboards creak ominously with every step. I press my spine flat against therough log wall and peer around the corner into the main living space.
The threat level drops to absolute zero.
A massive, lethal beast occupies the small, worn leather sofa.
I peer into the living room. Rafe is sprawled on the small leather sofa, fast asleep. The sight of the feral hitman at rest is jarring. He barely fits on the antique furniture. One heavily muscled leg hangs off the edge, a thick combat boot resting against the dusty rug. His arms are crossed over his chest even in sleep, a man whose body never fully surrenders to vulnerability.
He shed the heavy tactical rig and the Kevlar during the night. He’s bare-chested, the flickering morning light catching the jagged, silver-pink lines of the burn scars mapping his torso. I’m wearing his only dry shirt, leaving his massive, heavily muscled frame exposed to the cold air. Messy dark hair falls across his forehead, softening the harsh lines of his jaw.
His golden eyes are closed. The caged animal is finally quiet.
A sharp ache pulses in my core.
The visceral memory of the bearskin rug floods my nervous system. The heavy, punishing weight of his body pressing me into the floorboards. The blazing, territorial heat of his mouth devouring my skin. The feral, desperate groans vibrating in his chest as he buried himself inside me. His rough voice against my ear, demanding I take up space, demanding I be loud, demanding I stop making myself small for a world that had never deserved my silence.
My thighs clench. Heat pools low in my stomach.
He exhausted every ounce of his massive strength to drag me out of a subterranean tunnel and keep my daughter safe. He did not demand submission. He demanded my freedom. The protective devotion radiating from his sleeping form turns my blood hot.
I watch him for three seconds longer than I should.
Then the sharp, metallicclackof the heavy deadbolt unlocking shatters the quiet.
Rafe wakes.
The transition from deep sleep to lethal readiness takes less than a second. His eyes snap open. His massive body surges off the small sofa. A heavy combat knife materializes in his large hand before his boots even plant on the rug.
The heavy wooden front door swings open.
A brutal blast of freezing mountain wind bites into the warm cabin. Swirling white snow dances across the threshold.
Nick steps inside.
He moves with commanding authority. The cold mountain air clings to his dark tactical jacket. He dominates the space, his dark eyes scanning the room with surgical precision before he even finishes crossing the threshold.
Four strangers follow behind him.
Two women. Two men. They track snow onto the floorboards, carrying heavy duffel bags and metal equipment cases. They move with the quiet, practiced efficiency of people who dismantle criminal empires for a living.
My spine stiffens. The lingering heat in my core evaporates, replaced by cold, hard adrenaline.
Nick’s eyes find me in the hallway. That operational read already assessing. He does not offer a gentle morning greeting.
“Report,” Nick barks, his deep voice carrying across the room. “Are you injured? Where is Tyra?”
I step out of the shadows. I cross my arms over the oversized t-shirt.
“I am fine.” The reply comes out flat and guarded. “She is asleep in the back bedroom. Jude handled her well.”
Nick gives a single, sharp nod. He turns his broad shoulders slightly, gesturing toward the four strangers still shedding their winter coats onto a nearby chair.
The thick, black leather cuts underneath are exposed.