Page 106 of Zorro

Their eyes met and for one breathless second, the world stilled. “Hey,” she said, voice hoarse but steady.

“Hey,” he rumbled, tone so low it trembled in her ribs.

They didn’t run. Didn’t rush. They just stepped into each other’s gravity. But before they could speak again, Bear’s head snapped toward the stairwell.

“More incoming,” he said. “Can’t go down.”

She nodded. “Rooftop. The pool’s up there?”

“Only option.”

They moved. Together. Up two flights, barely breathing. Flint led the way.

The rooftop door burst open under Bear’s shoulder. He swept the space, cleared. For now.

Bailee leaned back against the concrete ledge, chest rising fast, adrenaline making her limbs feel like fire. Bear turned toward her, weapon up, but his eyes, those ancient feral eyes, never left her. Something broke loose inside her. She stepped into him and grabbed his vest in both fists. “I knew you’d come,” she said fiercely, her voice shaking now.

He didn’t smile. Just nodded once. “Always.”

More footsteps below. “You stay here,” he ordered.

She shook him slightly, her voice rough. “Don’t you dare get yourself killed. The Great Spirit can’t have you yet.”

He inhaled, deep and sharp, like her words had struck something hollow and sacred. She reached up, touched his jaw, her thumb skimmed the scar near his chin. That strong, unshakable jaw. That face she tried not to need.

The footsteps paused, there was swearing, then orders to go up. They were out of time.

“We have unfinished business,” he murmured, the edge of it fraying with emotion. Her eyes burned. But her mouth lifted in defiance. “So not happening,” he said. “Get your beautiful ass moving.” His smile was slight. Savage. Flint growled low beside them.

Just like that, the moment vanished, and he was gone.

Quietly. Barely audible over the wind. She closed her eyes and whispered, “T?a?ka´ši?, watch over them. I know I don’t deserve it, but please…keep them…please, keep him breathing.”

A prayer in her native tongue. One she hadn’t spoken in years. Maybe it wasn’t polished. Maybe she didn’t even know if she believed it anymore. Her hand came up, almost without thinking, brushing the words off her lips like ash.

She didn’t even remember deciding to say them. They’d just…risen.

But it came from her bones where Bear had settled against her will. How was she supposed to process that…or him?

The moment Bailee disappeared into the access hallway, Bear turned back toward the stairwell. He could hear them coming, boots slapping, orders shouted in clipped bursts of Portuguese. At least four men, maybe five. Tactical stack.

“Bear, sitrep,” Joker’s voice came through his comm.

“Working the problem, LT.”

“You need back up?”

“No, I have Flint and Bailee. You focus on getting these fuckers. I’ve got Bailee, and Zorro’s family.”

“Copy that. Don’t you die, you son-of-a-bitch,” Zorro’s voice crackled through the comms. Bear chuckled.

Flint bristled beside him, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. Bear dropped into a crouch, his weapon raised, his focus narrowing to pure instinct.

Yet he was shaking inside. She’d touched him. Bailee. In the middle of chaos. In the middle of blood and sweat and steel. Her fingers had grabbed his vest like she didn’t want to let go. Her voice had cracked when she whispered that prayer, the one she didn’t think she deserved to say. The one that had unmade him.

Her thumb had brushed the scar on his jaw like it was something precious. Now she was gone again. Bear didn’t know how to put that moment back in the box.

The distance between them, the silence she always held like armor, had been the only thing keeping him level. Keeping him sane. He didn’t think he could survive her up close. Not for long. Definitely not forever. He exhaled once, sharp and silent. Focus. Fight. Later.