Page 103 of Brass

That word still slips under my skin like a touch—unassuming, intimate, and entirely deliberate coming from a man who didn’t even share beds, let alone missions, until the subway platform in D.C. turned both our lives inside out.

“Speaking of partners…” My fingers toy with the ring. It feels permanent now. Real. “You know this whole cover thing doesn’t need to be a complete lie.”

“Marriage?” His voice is low, eyes locked on mine. “For real?”

I nod, teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

His eyes flash—heat, hunger, possession. The kind of look that used to undo me when I was running. Now it roots me deeper.

I take a slow step forward. “So…Are you going to ask me?”

He pushes off the desk in one smooth movement, closing the space between us.

“You forget how this works,” he murmurs, his voice dipping to that register that pulls my body taut. “In this relationship, I lead. You follow.”

A flush climbs up my throat, but I hold his gaze. “Fine. Then ask me.”

“When the moment’s right,” he says, brushing his knuckles over my hip, slow and deliberate. “Assuming you’re not still tied up when it comes.”

My breath snags. “Tied up?”

That grin. Dark and knowing, edged with promise. “You said ‘Fine. Then ask,’ like a brat testing limits.”

“I wasn’t testing,” I murmur, lips twitching. “I was challenging.”

“Same thing,” he counters, pulling me flush against his body. “Which means you’ve earned yourself a refresher.”

“In what?”

“Obedience.” His voice drops, rough velvet over steel. “We’ve covered restraint before, but clearly, we need to take things up a notch.”

I tilt my chin, feigning bravado. “You planning to tie me up until I behave?”

His mouth brushes my ear, the heat of it making my knees weaken. “No, sweetheart. I’m planning on tying you up because you don’t.”

I gasp, but he’s already moving—one hand sliding beneath my sweater, the other fisting gently in my hair as he guides me backward.

“Lesson one: submission under pressure. Lesson two…” His gaze rakes down my body. “How to beg properly. While bound.”

My pulse pounds so hard I can barely think.

“Are you always this bossy with your fake wives?” I whisper.

“Only the one I plan to keep,” he growls, lifting me without effort. “Can’t have a wife who doesn’t know how to slip a knot—or stay in one.” He slides his hand to the small of my back and pulls me against him, every line of his body promising discipline and pleasure.

“Guess I’d better learn,” I breathe.

“Starting now.” He lifts me effortlessly, my legs circling his waist as he carries me toward the bedroom—our shadows melting into the warm flicker of firelight, the mountains beyonda silent witness to the new identities we’ve claimed and the darker truths we’re still unraveling.

Tomorrow, the fight continues.

But tonight, I surrender. Again. And again.

I found something I never expected. Purpose beyond the byline. Connection beyond the temporary intensity of breaking news. A partner who challenges me, protects me, sees me for exactly who I am, and wants me anyway.

And when the snow melts, we’ll continue fighting from the shadows.

Phoenix operates in the darkness, its algorithms calculating threat assessments, dispatching resources, and eliminating targets with cold precision. A person known only as “Shadow” continues authorizing its deadly operations somewhere. Somewhere, more innocent people stumble across truths that make them targets.