It was Isla who broke the silence. “Still can’t believe Charlotte was the mole. She fooled everyone.”
“Yeah,” Jackson said quietly. “Makes me wonder who else she fooled.”
Avery turned from the window. “If Darian found out she was feeding information to Noah, that could explain why he slapped her outside Warren’s house.”
Isla glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You think he killed her?”
Avery nodded. “It makes sense. If Charlotte’s cover was blown, she’d be seen as a traitor. And the Brotherhood doesn’t let traitors live.”
Jackson’s grip tightened on his thigh. “Maybe. Or maybe someone wanted it to look that way.”
The road curved ahead, and the compound came into view. Avery knew Jackson was right. In this mess, truth and lies were woven too tightly to tell apart. And until they figured out who was pulling the strings, every step they took could be straight into another trap.
After they drove through the security gate of Crossfire Ops headquarters, Isla pulled the van up to the main building and killed the engine.
“I’ll check in with the other techs to see if there are updates,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “You two get some rest.”
Avery nodded, though she doubted rest was in her near future. Isla jogged toward the building, her boots splashing through puddles, and Jackson slid into the driver’s seat. Without a word, he started the van again and turned down one of the back roads that cut through the compound.
A few minutes later, they stopped in front of his cabin. It wasn’t what Avery expected. The place looked small from the outside, a single-story structure of weathered wood and steel, but the security setup told a different story. Cameras at each corner. Motion sensors along the fence. Reinforced windows that reflected the faint light from the porch.
He parked, and using an app on his phone, he disengaged the security and got them inside. Avery immediately glanced around to get her bearings. The space was clean, modern, and efficient. Dark wood floors, black leather furniture, and a large table covered in tactical gear and files. A faint scent of coffee and gun oil lingered in the air.
Before Avery could take it all in, a black cat appeared from the hallway, tail flicking as it eyed her warily.
Jackson bent to scoop him up. “This is Bandages,” he said, his voice softening just a little. “Stray showed up a while back. Beck found him with a nasty cut on his side, patched him up, and now we all take turns keeping him fed.”
The cat blinked at Avery, then gave a low, approving purr.
“Bandages,” she repeated, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Fitting name.”
“Yeah,” Jackson said, setting the cat down. “He’s tough. Keeps surviving, no matter what hits him.”
Avery watched the cat slink across the floor and realized she understood exactly why Jackson liked him. Both of them were survivors in a world that didn’t make it easy.
Avery stood in the middle of Jackson’s cabin, barely aware of the soft hum of the heating system or the faint patter of rain against the windows. The day caught up to her all at once—Charlotte’s murder, the failed rescue, the kidnappers’ silence, and the weight of every unanswered question pressing on her chest.
She tried to steady her breathing, but her body was shaking. Before she could step back or gather her thoughts, Jackson reached for her and pulled her into his arms.
For a moment, she froze. Then the warmth of him broke through the numbness. His heartbeat was strong and steady against her cheek, and she let herself breathe him in. He smelled like rain and leather and something that reminded her of safer times that no longer existed.
When he tilted her chin up, she saw the storm in his eyes—the same mix of fear, anger, and something deeper that had been building between them since the moment she’d shown up on his ranch.
The first kiss was soft, almost hesitant. Then it deepened, all the emotions neither of them had dared to speak spilling into it.
Avery’s hands fisted in his shirt, her pulse racing as if her body was trying to catch up to everything she’d been holding back. Jackson cupped her face, his touch both protective and desperate. It wasn’t about lust or impulse. It was about survival. About needing something real when everything else around them was crumbling.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together. The silence that followed was heavy but not empty.
Avery’s breath trembled as she whispered, “I don’t know what’s coming next.”
Jackson’s voice was rough when he answered. “Then we face it together.”
And for the first time in days, she let herself believe that might be enough.
Jackson’s mouth found hers again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more certain. The rest of the world seemed to fall away—the storm outside, the danger waiting beyond the walls, all of it faded until there was only him.
The warmth of his hands steadied her, even as her pulse thundered in her ears. The heat between them rose fast, curling through her chest and down to every breath she took. For the first time in days, she felt alive instead of hunted.