Page 19

Jude

T he morning air was crisp, still carrying the faint scent of rain from the night before.

I sat on the porch steps, knees tucked against my chest, staring at the endless desert.

Cyclone moved around quietly inside the house, giving me space but never straying far. He was trying to be patient, trying not to push.

But I felt him.

Always there.

Always steady.

And that was the problem.

I needed him too much. And if I weren’t careful, he’d pay the price for standing too close to my fire.

When Cyclone finally stepped outside, wiping his hands on a rag, I braced myself.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Morning,” I echoed, not looking at him.

He sat beside me, our shoulders brushing, waiting, letting me come to him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, steeling myself. Then I said the words that were tearing me apart.

“I have to do this alone, Cyclone.”

He went still.

“I have to finish it,” she pressed on, feeling the words scrape her throat raw. “The senator… what he did to my family… it’s my burden. It’s my fight. I can’t drag you into it.”

Finally, I dared a glance at him.

Cyclone’s jaw was tight, his eyes dark and unreadable. He set the rag aside slowly, like a man reining in something dangerous.

When he spoke, his voice was low and sure, cutting straight through the walls I was trying to build.

“You don’t get to shut me out, sunshine,” he said, looking me in the eye. “Not after everything. Not after last night. Not ever.”

My throat burned.

“I don’t want you getting hurt because of me,” I whispered. “I can’t lose someone else. I won’t survive it.”

Cyclone leaned closer, his voice rough velvet now.

“You won’t lose me. You won’t. You hear me?”

I blinked fast, fighting the sting of tears.

“I have a plan,” I said shakily. “I’m going to draw him out. Bait him. Force him to make a move. But it’s risky. It’s dangerous. And I have to be the one to do it.”

Cyclone searched my face for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Fine,” he said, surprising me. “You want to run into the fire, Jude? You do it.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“But you’re not running into it alone,” he said, voice hardening. “You can be stubborn. You can be reckless. Hell, you can even hate me for it if you need to. But you’re not facing this without me watching your back.”

He stood, towering over me, fierce, beautiful, and immovable.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said. “You never will be again.”

And then—because he knew I needed space to breathe—he stood, turned, and walked back inside, giving me the choice.

Leaving the door wide open behind him.

I sat there for a long time, shaking, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

I had come to the desert to hide.

I had come here to die with my secrets. I was so stupid.

Instead, I had found a man who refused to let me drown.

A man who would fight for me even if I tried to fight alone.

For the first time in years, I realized I didn’t have to be a one-woman army anymore.

I still had a plan.

I still had to catch the senator.

But I wouldn’t be facing him alone anymore.

I’d be facing him as someone who had something worth fighting for.

Someone worth living for.