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“Kat?” Leo’s voice, smoke-hoarse. His blackened hand stroked her cheek while behind him, the young guard moaned.

“I’m okay,” she gasped—though her voice sounded warped, as if underwater.

Orange firelight flickered across his soot-streaked face, turning his eyes sea-dark.

He looked wrecked and real andhers.

Just for a moment, the world stopped.

There was just him.

His breath ghosted her lips, smoke and survival. Her hands framed his jaw, shaking.

She kissed him, pouring in everything she didn’t have words for.

His breath hitched against her mouth, as if he hadn’t let himself hope until now. One hand buried in her hair. The other gripped her back like he couldn’t believe she was real.

When she surfaced, she was breathing hard.

Leo pressed his forehead to hers. “No more near misses. We go home. Together.”

Fox’s voice crackled over comms, dry and unmistakably English. “Excellent work, team. All evidence obliterated. Again.”

Kat huffed a laugh as Leo offered her a hand and helped her to her feet.

He pulled her close to his side and kissed her ear. “Ten years late,Agent Landon,but I believe I owe you waffles. And ice cream.”

48

Two weeks later.

The cardboard box cut into Kat’s forearms as she balanced it against her hip, fishing for her keys with her free hand. After two grueling weeks of debriefings and paperwork, she’d finally been cleared for full active duty—only to immediately request time off. The box was lighter than it should have been, considering it contained the remnants of a career she’d nearly lost.

“Here.” Leo’s voice came from behind her. His hands brushed hers as he lifted the heavier box from her arms, the brush of his fingers sparking a heat that traveled all the way to her throat. “I’ve got it.”

With her hands free, she turned the key in the lock. Having him here felt surprisingly natural. He’d gone straight to Norway after El Nido to handle team logistics—but the moment he could, he came back.

For her.

Three weeks ago, the thought of mixing their worlds would have sent anxiety clawing up her throat. Now, watching Leo navigate her narrow hallway with the cardboard box, it felt like the most logical thing in the world.

“Watch the?—”

But Leo’s boot had already caught on something orange and furry.

He stumbled, the box tilting precariously in his grip. “What the hell?”

A disgruntled yowl echoed through the hallway as the tabby cat bolted between Leo’s legs and into her kitchen. Its tail lashed with indignation as it positioned itself by the food dish.

“Where did that come from?” Leo set the box down on the kitchen table.

Kat paused in the doorway. She hadn’t planned to keep it. But every morning when she returned from her runs, there it was. Every evening, it materialized from whatever hiding place it had claimed during the day.

The cat gave a plaintive meow. Clearly, it had never been fed in its life.

“Is it yours?” Leo asked.

The question hung in the air between them. Was it hers? She’d never made a conscious decision to adopt it. But somewhere along the way, she’d started leaving her window cracked open and picking up tins of cat food during her grocery runs.