Page 113

Izzy didn’t smile. She just took a deep breath, stormed toward him, and punched him square in the chest.

He stumbled back, laughing despite the impact. “Yeah, okay, I deserved that.”

Izzy’s hands were shaking. “You—” Her voice broke. “You scared me, Brad.”

Brad’s face softened instantly, and without another word, he pulled her in, holding her tightly against him.

She fisted his jacket, burying her face in his chest. “Next time you run off to take down an entire criminal empire, maybe call me first.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I will.”

Izzy exhaled shakily, reluctantly pulling back. “I hate you.”

Brad grinned. “No, you don’t.”

She sighed. “No, I don’t.”

The second Ethan stepped out of the car, Molly was standing just a few feet away, Wyatt in her arms, tears streaking her face.

Ethan met her eyes. “I made it back.”

Molly let out a shaky laugh, then crossed the distance in three strides, throwing one arm around him while the other cradled their son. “You always do,” she whispered against his shoulder.

Ethan squeezed them both, pressing a kiss to Molly’s temple. “And I always will.”

Noah stood, watching. Smoke still clung to the air, the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and adrenaline mixing with the sharp bite of the day.

The raid was over.

This fight was done.

And now was the part he wasn’t built for: reunions.

He watched as Ethan pulled Molly and Wyatt into his arms, gripping her like she might disappear if he let go. Brad muttered something into Isobel’s hair, his face buried in her shoulder. Alex held Charlotte’s face in his hands, scanning her like he needed to see for himself that she was whole.

Noah felt it in his chest—a sharp, distant ache.

Not jealousy. Not quite. Just… recognition. Because he had never been the guy who got to collapse into someone’s arms after the fight was over. He was the guy who stayed standing. The guy who checked the exits, counted bodies, made sure the next threat wasn’t already creeping in.

And then there was Ruth. She was somewhere inside, still recovering, still fighting battles he couldn’t fight for her.

And when he did see her again, when he finally got to touch her, would she reach for him the way the others did? Or would she slip through his fingers?

Noah barely made it inside before Sophie was there, grabbing his arm. “She’s awake,” she said softly.

Noah’s chest tightened. “She’s okay?”

Sophie hesitated. “She’s… worried. For you.”

He swallowed hard, nodding. “Where is she?”

Sophie led him down the hall to her room, then quietly stepped away, giving them space.

Noah took a steadying breath, then pushed the door open.

Inside, Ruth was sitting up in bed, her expression tense, her fingers clutching at the blanket in her lap. Waiting.

The second he stepped inside, her head turned toward him. “Noah?” Her voice was small, uncertain.