“Baby.”
One word. Firm. Anchoring. She goes still.
Her head snaps up, and those iridescent eyes of hers meet mine—sharp, haunted, lethal, and exhausted. Ready to argue with me. Ready to go to war with the one person who will always, always choose her over everything else, even the mission.
She draws a breath to argue, but I cut her off before a single word lands.
I crouch beside her, elbow braced on my knee, leaning in until we’re almost nose to nose. “You just hauled yourself back from the edge,” I say, voice low and steady. “You haven’t slept. You barely eat. You keep trying to carry all of this on your own.”
Her jaw tightens—not with anger, but guilt.
Good. It’s landing.
“You think I don’t see what you do to yourself?” I continue. “You think I don’t know what happens when you’re hurting and pretending you’re fine? We know you, Berk. Better than you know your own damn pulse.”
She swallows, throat working like she doesn’t want us to notice.
I ease my tone, just a fraction. “You’re back. The real you. Brilliant. Vicious. Beautiful. The version that scares me and turns me on in the same breath. Don’t lose her again—not over guilt you never earned.”
She shifts, ready to push back, so I lift my hand.
“No,” I say. “Listen. Kimber needs us sharp. All of us. You’ll burn yourself to the ground before you let that girl suffer alone—but running yourself into the dirt only puts her in more danger.”
Her breath catches. The truth hits her in the chest.
I lean closer, letting my forehead brush hers. “We will find her. We will tear Dean and Bryce apart, one bone at a time. And you will get to dip every one of your pretty knives into whatever you want. But you have to stay whole. You have to stayyou. Sleep is not optional.”
She tries again, softer. “Ronan—”
I shake my head. “We work for a couple of hours, then we stop. All of us. Bed. No negotiations.”
She studies me—really studies—searching for the lie she wants to find so she can argue. But all she sees is resolve carved into stone. A certainty that only exists in the moments I’d raze the world for her.
Her lips tilt. Slow. Dangerous. That wicked little smirk that makes my blood heat.
She’s daring me. Tempting me. Testing me.
I lower my voice. “Push me again, sweetheart, and I will hog-tie you to that bed myself.”
Her smile blooms wider, dark and inviting. “Maybe I want you to.”
A soft, bitten-off sound escapes me—half laugh, half groan. Fuck, she’s going to kill me.
But she also nods. A tiny one. Barely there.
Agreement. Trust. Understanding. A promise she’ll try. That’s all I need from her right now.
Behind us, Emerson and Rowan fill the doorway. They don’t interrupt or comment. They don’t need to. I know they saw it—and I know the quiet relief sitting in their chests mirrors mine.
Berk releases a slow breath and turns back to her screen, but this time she doesn’t look like she’s drowning. She looks anchored. Grounded. Ours again.
I settle in beside her, even though every instinct wants to pull her into my lap and force her to rest. She’s still wired, nerves humming from interrogation and blood and adrenaline. My girl doesn’t wind down—she coils tighter. And if we don’t mind those edges, she’ll cut herself open from the inside.
She mutters, “All right, let’s see if this asshole was worth my knife getting dirty.”
I grin, leaning back in my chair. “Could’ve stabbed him a few more times.”
Rowan snorts. “You would’ve snapped his femur just to hear the sound.”