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"Trent," I gasp as he slips one finger inside me. "Please."

He adds another finger, stretching me gently while his thumb continues circling my clit. The dual sensation sends me rocketing toward release embarrassingly quickly. I fight it, wanting to prolong this moment.

As if sensing my struggle, he slows his movements. "Let go," he murmurs against my ear. "We have all night."

The permission combined with a particularly clever twist of his fingers shatters my restraint. I come apart around his hand, back arching as waves of pleasure crash through me. My enhanced senses make the orgasm almost overwhelming—colors behind my eyelids, every nerve ending singing.

Holy fuck .

Before I've fully recovered, Trent shifts above me, positioning himself between my thighs. The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, not pushing inside yet—just there, hot and hard and promising.

Our eyes meet, and something passes between us beyond physical desire. Three years of partnership, of trust built and broken and rebuilt. Of wanting and waiting and finally giving in.

"I love you," he says simply, the words falling into the space between us like stones into still water.

The declaration hits harder than any physical touch. Before I can respond, he pushes forward slowly, entering me with exquisite care.

The stretch borders on pain—it's been a long time, and he's larger than anyone I've been with before. But my body adjusts quickly, modifications handling the discomfort and translating it to pleasure.

"God, Zara," he breathes as he seats himself fully inside me. "Fuck. You feel incredible."

We remain still for a moment, adjusting to this new, intimate connection. Then I roll my hips experimentally, and whatever restraint Trent was maintaining snaps .

He gasps, low and raspy, then begins to move, setting a rhythm that quickly has me sucking in my breath. Each thrust strikes something deep inside that sends sparks shooting along my nerve endings. I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle to take him even deeper.

His control gradually slips as passion builds. His movements become more urgent, less measured. One hand slides beneath me to lift my hips, allowing him to drive even deeper.

"Yes," I encourage, nails digging into his shoulders. "Harder."

He complies, abandoning Sentinel precision for raw need. The room fills with the sounds of our pleasure—skin against skin, breathless moans, whispered encouragements.

I feel another climax building, stronger than the first. Trent seems to sense it, one hand slipping between us to circle my clit again.

"Come for me," he urges, voice strained with his own approaching release. "I want to feel you come around me."

The combination of his words, his touch, and the relentless rhythm of his thrusts pushes me over the edge. I shatter spectacularly, walls clenching around him as pleasure washes through me in overwhelming waves.

My release triggers his. With a final deep thrust, he stiffens above me, my name a harsh groan on his lips as he finds his own completion.

For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, breathing heavily. Then he carefully rolls to the side, bringing me with him so we stay connected. One arm curves around me, holding me close against his chest.

In the aftermath, a comfortable silence envelops us. My head rests on his shoulder, his heartbeat gradually slowing beneath my palm. His fingers trace idle patterns on my back, raising pleasant shivers.

"That was..." I begin, struggling to find adequate words .

"Worth waiting for," he finishes, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I smile against his skin. "I was going to say 'unexpected,' but yes, definitely worth the wait."

His arms tighten around me slightly. "I should have told you sooner. About my feelings. About everything."

"Would it have changed anything?" I ask. "With Unity's protocols, with your assignment..."

"Probably not," he admits. "But at least you would have known the truth. About how I felt, if nothing else."

I push up on one elbow to look at him properly. In the dim light, his features are softened, the usual Sentinel mask completely absent. For perhaps the first time, I'm seeing Trent Vanguard without any barriers—physical or emotional.

My heart pangs with my own truth, about how I really feel about him. How I always have.

"I know now," I say softly. "That's what matters."

His expression turns serious. "Zara, whatever happens with Unity, with the other Haven children, with whatever your mother designed you for—I'm with you. Not because of any assignment or duty. Because I choose to be."

The simple declaration fills some empty space inside me I hadn't realized existed. In a world where my very existence was designed by others, his choice—his love freely given—feels like the first truly genuine thing I can claim as my own.

"I love you too," I tell him, the words coming easier than expected. "I think I have for a long time."

His smile transforms his whole face, years of Sentinel restraint falling away completely. He pulls me down for another kiss, this one gentle yet no less intense than our earlier passion.

When we separate, a question forms that I've been avoiding since our escape. "What happens now? With Lily, with the other Haven children, with Lin's betrayal... "

"We handle it," Trent says simply. "Together. One step at a time."

"Starting with?"

"Rest," he decides, pulling me closer against his side. "We've earned that much at least."

As if summoned by his words, exhaustion sweeps over me—the accumulated fatigue of escaped capture, rescue missions, and emotional revelations. My body, despite its modifications, demands recovery time.

"Rest," I agree, settling more comfortably against him. "Then face whatever comes next."

As sleep begins to claim me, I feel Trent press one more kiss to my forehead. The gesture carries a promise more binding than any Unity protocol or Sentinel oath.

Whatever comes next, we face it together.