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Lark

T he sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the clearing. I stayed still on the porch, thermos in hand, pretending I wasn’t waiting for a killer.

My heart was steady. Focused.

Axel’s short training course had stuck.

Stay loose. Stay ready. Let the predator think you’re prey.

A twig snapped.

Then another.

He was here.

I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Then a voice slipped from the shadows, low and mocking. “Didn’t think you’d make it this easy.”

I kept my expression even. “Figured you wanted something better than a drone shot.”

A figure stepped out—tall, lean, hood pulled low.

And the moment I saw his face, my stomach dropped.

Not just a fan. Not a stranger.

There was something in his eyes—dead and unblinking.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

He smiled, and it made my skin crawl. “Not yet. But he does.”

He?

Axel.

He moved closer, stepping onto the porch, and I subtly shifted my foot—pressing my toe into the hidden trigger in my boot.

Signal sent.

Then he spoke again.

“Martin left me. Iraq. March 2019.”

My breath caught.

“I was his asset,” he said, voice shaking. “His call. His team exfiltrated. I was taken.”

“You were the hostage,” I whispered.

“I was the mission ,” he growled. “And he left me.”

My pulse hammered. “Whatever happened—it wasn’t my fault.”

“But you’re his now,” he snarled. “Aren’t you? You wear him like armor.”

I stood slowly, trying not to provoke him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes,” he said, voice breaking. “I do.”

That’s when I saw it.

The knife.

Axel

Ping. Panic trigger. She’d activated it.

“Move!” I barked into the comms as I launched down the trail.

“Rush—south ridge!”

“Turner—flank left!”

I was already running, heart on fire, lungs barely keeping up.

Lark.

I broke through the trees and saw them—on the porch.

Him. Knife raised.

Her, frozen.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate.

I hit him like a freight train, slamming him to the boards. The knife skidded away.

Lark gasped.

I pinned him, fist drawn back.

“You should’ve stayed dead,” I growled.

But her voice cut through my fury. “Axel—stop!”

I froze, still breathing like a bull, my body shaking with rage.

He was already out cold.

Lark touched my arm. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

I looked at her—and saw everything.

The terror. The strength. The trust.

And something more.

I pulled her into my arms.

She didn’t resist. Didn’t speak.

She just held on.

And in that moment, I knew—

I wasn’t letting her go.

Not now.

Not ever.