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“When this is over,” he said, each word measured as if testing ice, “if?—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, throat constricting. “Don’t sayif. We will.”

His hand found hers, rough callouses against her smoother skin as his fingers threaded through hers.

“When this is over... what happens then? Back to MI6 for you? Back to Norway for me? Back to encrypted calls and professional distance?”

Her thumb moved of its own accord, tracing the ridged landscape of his knuckles. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” The word came sharp and decisive. “It’s never been what I wanted.”

She stilled, a dozen unsaid things catching in her throat. “You never said anything.”

“Neither did you.”

Kat’s heartbeat stumbled. “I chose the job over everything else. I used to think I had to choose. Now I’m not so sure.”

Her free hand rose, fingertips finding the rough edge of his jaw, the contrast of stubble against warm skin. “What if we can have both?”

“I’ve spent years telling myself I didn’t deserve this,” Leo admitted, his voice low enough that she had to lean closer to hear.

“When you disappeared after Oslo,” she said softly. “I almost thought I’d imagined it.”

His lips skimmed the curve of her ear and she closed her eyes, lost in the sensation.

His breath warmed her skin. “There’s not been a waking minute since Oslo that I didn’t think of you.”

God. Her heart stole a few extra beats.This man.

“We all have ghosts. All of us who do this work.” Her thumb brushed over the scar near his eye. “But I’m tired of letting them decide my future.”

He leaned forward, and his lips met hers, gentle at first, then hungry. The world narrowed to just them as she pulled him closer, his touch warm through the thin borrowed shirt.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, their breath shared in the narrow space between them.

His chest rose and fell. “This is so fucking complicated.”

A small laugh escaped her. “Understatement.” Her fingers traced the short hair at the back of his neck, memorizing the texture. “But I think we’re past pretending this isn’t what we both want.”

“And after?” His question held equal parts hope and caution.

Kat searched his eyes, finding herself on unfamiliar ground. “I don’t know exactly,” she admitted. “But I know I can’t go back to being the version of me who thought this—us—was impossible.” Reality intruded as a shadow crossed her thoughts. “If I still have a career after this?—”

“You will.” His voice hardened with certainty. “We’ll clear your name.”

His certainty steadied her. “Then maybe...” She hesitated. “Maybe we figure it out together?”

“Together.” He pressed a kiss to her palm.

Her phone buzzed. Jane. She scanned the message.

“She’s agreed to meet me tomorrow morning.” Kat typed a quick reply, then turned the phone face down on the bed, her mind whirling.

Gage was still in custody, and Project Nightshade’s clock kept ticking.

“That leaves my brother. MI6 can only hold him for so long without formal charges. If they’re using him as bait, they’ll have processed him through the system—which means bail is possible.”

“Brock can arrange the paperwork anonymously. I’ll collect him in the morning.”