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"I choose to be here, with you. Wherever this leads us."

Koda's intake of breath is sharp, his fingers tightening slightly on mine. For a moment, I think he might pull me into his arms. Instead, he brings my hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles.

"My perfect angel," he says against my skin.

I shake my head, cupping his cheek with my free hand. "You deserve happiness, Koda. We both do."

As we sit there, the rain tapering off outside, I feel a sense of peace settle over me. There's still danger out there, still so much uncertainty in our future. But here, in this moment, with the lingering scents of ph? and coffee in the air and Koda's hand warm in mine, I feel like I've found a piece of home I never knew I was missing.

Eight

Koda

Frogs croaking, insects buzzing, the occasional splash of something moving through the water fills the bayou at night. I stand by the window, my eyes scanning the darkness beyond the glass. It's been quiet. Too quiet.

Behind me, Pamela sleeps peacefully on the worn couch, a book about New Orleans cuisine fallen open on her chest. The sight of her, so vulnerable and trusting, makes something in my chest tighten. These past weeks have been unexpected. Challenging. But also filled with a warmth I'd forgotten could exist.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. We can't afford to get complacent. The gang hunting Pamela doesn’t give up easily.

A flicker of movement in the trees catches my eye. Could be nothing, an owl, maybe, or a raccoon. But instincts honed through years of combat are screaming at me that something's wrong.

I move silently to Pamela's side, my hand gentle but firm on her shoulder. "Wake up," I murmur, keeping my voice low. "We've got trouble."

Her eyes flutter open, confusion quickly replaced by fear as she reads the tension in my posture. "What's happening?" she whispers, sitting up.

"Not sure yet. But we need to be ready to move." I help her to her feet, my mind racing through escape routes. "Remember the plan we talked about?"

Pamela nods, her face pale but determined.

"Stay close to me, and if I tell you to run, you run. No arguments."

She opens her mouth to respond, but a sudden crash from the front of the cabin cuts her off. The door splinters inward, and dark figures pour through the opening.

"Go!" I roar, shoving Pamela towards the back of the cabin. I hear her footsteps retreating as I turn to face our attackers.

Three men, armed and masked, fan out into the room. Behind them, I can see more figures moving in the darkness outside. We're outnumbered, but I've faced worse odds.

The first attacker lunges at me with a knife. I sidestep, grabbing his wrist and using his momentum to slam him into the wall. The second comes in swinging, but I'm already moving. My fist connects with his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs.

A gun appears in the third man's hand. I dive for cover behind the overturned table as shots ring out, splintering wood and shattering the quiet of the night.

I need to end this fast. Staying low, I scuttle to the kitchen area, grabbing the cast-iron skillet from the stove. As the gunman rounds the corner, I swing with all my strength. The pan connects with a sickening crunch, and he drops like a stone.

More shots from outside. They're trying to pin us down. I grab the fallen man's gun, checking the clip. Half full. It'll have to do.

"Pamela!" I call out, my voice barely audible over the gunfire. "You okay?"

"I'm here!" Her voice comes from the back bedroom, shaky but alive. Relief floods through me, quickly replaced by a surge of protective rage.

I move to the shattered front door, using the frame for cover. Two more attackers are advancing across the small clearing in front of the cabin. I take a deep breath, steadying my aim, then open fire.

The first man goes down with a cry. The second dives for cover behind a tree. I use the moment to sprint to the back of the cabin, my heart pounding in my ears.

Pamela's there, clutching our emergency bags, her eyes wide with fear. "Koda! You're hurt!"

I glance down, noticing for the first time the blood seeping from a gash on my arm. Must've caught some shrapnel from the splintering door. "It's nothing. We need to move."

I take the bag from her, slinging it over my shoulder. With my free hand, I grab hers, marveling for a split second at how small and delicate it feels in my massive green palm.