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She took a step back, still clinging to the protective anger she wore like armor.
“You didn’t have to serve me at the job, Quinn. That was poorly done. That’s my place of duty and the Navy frowns on this type of situation. They expect me to handle my personal life as well as I handle my professional life. You knew that, and you did it anyway.”
Quinn stared at Dagger, her temper bristling all over again. She had done it precisely because it was his place of duty. She’d wanted him off-balance, but oh no, the man was a tight fist in a velvet glove. But as she stood there, she had to grudgingly acknowledge the gravity of what he was saying. His tone was infuriatingly calm, each syllable landing with measured precision.
He radiated that same steady composure he always had, the one that once gave her comfort. It also reminded her, in a painful burst of clarity, why he had taken her children away in the first place. She’d been lost in her pain, drowning in booze, unable to handle her own emotions, an unstable inferno that threatened to consume everything. While she loathed him for it, a discomfiting thread of respect twisted through her anger. He had done what she couldn’t at the time…protecther children.
Steeling her jaw, she shoved the unease aside. “I served you those papers for a reason,” she snapped. “I want my kids back.”
“You can throw all the legal paperwork you want at me, Quinn,” Dagger replied. “That’s not why I’m here.” His voice was low, but it carried the weight of finality. “It’s not about lawyers or courtrooms. This is about us.”
Fresh heat surged through Quinn’s chest. She wanted to lash out with a snide remark, to tell him she did need the court and lawyers, that dealing with him was too volatile. But somehow, the words snagged in her throat. He looked at her with those exacting eyes, steady, assessing, daring her to break the moment with more anger.
A fleeting thought sparked in her mind.What would he be like if he lost this control? If he let that composure slip in real, wild passion?The idea was both electrifying and infuriating.
“How is this aboutus?” she pressed, voice clipped. “There’s nothing left between us.”
Dagger lifted his chin slightly, revealing the strong line of his throat. The faint copper highlights in his hair caught the light, and Quinn’s gaze lingered there, recalling how once that color had glinted in sunlight when he smiled. The memory seared her, making her want to retreat into the armor of anger again.
“Your sobriety. Your stability. You and my nephews…that’s between us,” he said. “I’m not handing my nephews back to a mother who’s still battling her own demons. You have to show me you have that under control.”
Her skin prickled at the implication that he had the authority to decide whether she was worthy. It ignited the part of her that burned hottest, that hated being judged, that wanted to rail against any suggestion she might beless than. Yet in the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t entirely about punishment. It was about proving tohim, and to herself, that she was capable of standing on her own feet, sober and strong. She couldn’t seem to shake the memory that he was always on her side.
“Who are you to decide that?” Quinn demanded, forcing herself not to waver under his steady gaze.
“I’m the one who had to pick up the pieces when you fell apart,” Dagger answered, calm as ever. But there was a hint of something else in his voice, sadness, maybe. Or regret. “I’m the one who protected them when you couldn’t.”
Every muscle in Quinn’s body tensed at the reminder of how low she’d sunk. She was torn between gratitude and bitterness, and she hated that she owed him both. Her fingernails bit into her palm, and she swallowed the thick lump of shame that rose in her throat. Her anger flared, a protective barrier. “You think Ihaven’t been fighting? You think I haven’t done the work?” She wanted to list every meeting she’d attended, every nightmare she’d wrestled through without a single drop of alcohol, every time she resisted the urge to crumble. “I’m sober,” she hissed. “I’m damn well trying to stay that way.”
“I know.” His gaze remained fixed on her, unwavering. “That’s why I’m here, Quinn. I want to see you succeed. I’m just not convinced yet that you trust yourself enough to make that final climb out of the fire.”
The silence between them thickened, laden with everything they couldn’t say, past hurts, unspoken apologies, fleeting glimpses of what once had been great affection for her brother-in-law. Quinn could feel her composure unraveling in the heated press of her own indignation, but she also recognized a glimmer of opportunity.Maybe he truly is giving me a chance, she thought.Maybe he’s waiting to see me stand on my own two feet.
She didn’t want to accept that, couldn’t seem to accept that. It still hurt. Quinn couldn’t shake the memory of the day Brian never came home. That hollow ache had taken root inside her the moment she learned he’d died on a mission, one Dagger and his cursed team were also on. That was how Quinn saw it, anyway. Dagger was Brian’s half-brother, the man who claimed to have his back. Now here he stood, alive and composed, while Brian’s laughter and warmth were lost forever. A part of her mind understood that military missions rarely gave neat answers, but another part had latched onto Dagger and his team as the focal point of her pain. If he’d protected his brother, maybe Brian would still be here, holding her, helping raise their children. That bitterness had become her armor, keeping her fury stoked and shielding her from the crushing grief she couldn’t bear to acknowledge
She drew in a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around herself. “You never make anything easy,” she muttered, her pride and resentment warring with a fragile understanding she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Dagger’s expression softened just enough for her to notice. “If I made it easy, it wouldn’t mean anything. You want your children back, Quinn? Show me I’m not making a mistake by bringing them home to you. The only easy day was yesterday.”
She stared at him, the weight of his words pressing on her chest. This was more than any piece of paper a court could serve. This was personal, a deeply tangled cord between the two of them, woven from mistakes, regrets, and a faint glimmer of hope.
Her pulse thudded in her ears, and she wondered if her fire would scorch him in the end, or if she could find a way to burn bright enough to light her path forward without consuming everything she held dear.
Yet in the still moments afterward, when her rage ebbed just enough for her to recognize her own exhaustion, Quinn found herself staring at an invisible wall inside her, a cold, unyielding mental block where her answers should have been. She wanted to move forward, to admit that maybe Dagger wasn’t her enemy, to reconcile the man he was with the brother-in-law she blamed for Brian’s death. But her aching, angry grief still singed every breath she took, reminding her that anger had become the only armor she trusted. The idea of giving him what he needed, her forgiveness, her surrender, her willingness to share her children, felt like it might melt her from the inside out. So, she teetered on the edge, paralyzed by the fear that granting him any sliver of peace would tear down the last barrier protecting her heart, leaving her with nothing but the searing pain she’d been fighting to contain.
Maybe she had to break a little more before she could rebuild. Still lost, she couldn’t find her way there. But when she did, it would be her decision. For a second, one second, her throat tightened. The words tangled in her chest, aching to be spoken. But they were dangerous and too real. Too final. So, she smothered them. She lit them on fire and let them burn.
“I don’t care about what you need, Kade. I’m getting them back regardless of your conviction that this is between us. Once I do, I want you gone from our lives. I never want to see you again. That is what I want, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.”
A flickerof shock broke Dagger’s composure as Quinn spat her ultimatum. He’d been trained to keep his emotions in check, but he couldn’t stop the hurt that spread through him. Her words cracked their foundation, threatening to overwhelm him in a surge he didn’t know how to control. She was still fighting, but her steps forward included two steps back. She looked much better than the last time he’d seen her. Her honey-brown curls were bouncy instead of matted, her whiskey eyes determined instead of glazed over. Her skin was warm-toned from her biracial heritage, instead of ashen.
He schooled his features, fighting back any outward sign of how thoroughly her words gutted him. She wanted him goneforever? This woman he’d admired, argued with, and, fuck him, desired for longer than he cared to admit? Worse, she was talking about his nephews, who were in realityhisbiological sons. The memory of that day came rushing back. Quinn and Brian’s fertility struggles, the late-night confession that Briancouldn’t father children, the request for Dagger’s help.Their boys, truly his blood, but they weren’t meant to be his.
Brian had laughed when he said it.Maybe a couple of kids will keep her home with me,but the words hit Dagger differently now. Back then, it had seemed like a throwaway line. Now, with distance, it felt heavier. Strategic, even. Like Brian hadn’t seen Quinn for who she was, just who he needed her to be.
He tightened his jaw, refusing to let the pain show.SEAL discipline,he reminded himself.Focus on the objective. Protect them.Yet the objective was tangled in that slow-burn attraction he could never fully extinguish. Quinn’s presence lit every corner of the room, pulled at him like a riptide he couldn’t resist. The guilt, that yawning chasm of regret for wanting a woman who’d belonged to his brother, stung like salt water in a raw wound.
“Don’t do this,” he said, his voice quieter than before. Inside, his emotions roiled, waves colliding with flames, but on the surface, he was calm, ice-cold to her scorching heat. “Don’t pretend you can just cut me out of their lives.” His eyes flicked to her desk where the papers lay, a formal, legal barrier she was building between them. Yet the real wall stood in her gaze, in the fierce glint that told him she’d lock him out if she could.