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Quinn’s legs felt like dead weight as she moved away from him, the restaurant buzzing around her, the sounds of conversation and clinking glassware blurring into an indistinct hum. No one could really hear what they were saying since they were away from the crowd and the noise was loud. But they saw the encounter and knew it was intense. Even as her stomach heaved, shame washed over her in unrelenting waves. She’d thought she’d made amends, but she wasn’t even close, and her vindictive attitude in her office only made that shame burn hotter.

What had she said to him about kicking him out of her life? How cruel. How unthinking. How devastating. Worse, how blind. Because it wasn’t just him she had been cutting out. It was them, her boys, their boys. A part of him lived in them, in their laughter, their stubborn streaks, the way Elijah clenched his jaw when frustrated, the way Ezra studied the world with quiet intensity. She had spent years convincing herself that they were Brian’s. But weren’t they his, too?

Nausea rolled through her stomach. The air felt too thick, the walls of the space too tight, like they were closing in, trapping her inside the ruin of everything she’d just done, and she couldn’t breathe.

He had never broken like that before.

Not even at Brian’s funeral. She swallowed. She had been numb then, in shock, and she had leaned on him, never once thinking he needed someone to lean on.

Kade…God, what had she done?

She’d never considered his pain…no, his agony in removing her kids from her neglect and spiraling bitterness.

Still, he checked up on her. Encouraged her. Tried to be there for her just as Easy had said. Every. Single. Time.

She shied away from the implications of what that meant because just dealing with Dagger’s excruciating torment was all that her mind could handle. She was going to handle it because he mattered. She saw that now.

Yet, tonight, she pushed him past his breaking point in front of everyone. Easy again…he had it right. Unfair , that word was such an understatement. She had meant to be sharp, meant to be cutting, meant to make him hurt the way she hurt. But she hadn’t expected to see it. Hadn’t expected to see the raw, gaping wound beneath his control. More guilt flooded in. Had she pushed him so that he would lose control? Had she wanted to see him as raw as she was? God help her. She was such a fucking bitch.

She realized, far too late, that she wasn’t just throwing daggers at a hardened SEAL. She was throwing them at a man who had been standing in the wreckage with her the entire time. Quinn sank into her seat, but the ache in her chest didn’t ease.

She had to live with how she had acted. Her breath was ragged by the time she reached the table, but neither Piper nor David seemed to notice. They were staring at her, waiting, expectant.

Piper’s lips parted first. “Who was that gorgeous man?”

The question hit wrong, rubbing against the raw, exposed nerve endings of Quinn’s frayed emotions. Gorgeous? God, yes.

Dagger had always been undeniably beautiful in a way that made her stomach twist, even back then, even when she shouldn’t have noticed. When she shouldn’t have let her mind linger. In her weakest moments, she had acknowledged it. The cut of his jaw, the way his green eyes sharpened like a blade, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his tan skin, dusted with sweat after a run. A presence too large to ignore. But she couldn’t embrace it. Couldn’t embrace him. Because he wasn’t hers. She was pledged to his brother. The love of her life.

Yet—

It wasn’t just the question. It was the look in Piper’s eyes. Curiosity. Interest. Attraction.

Her stomach twisted, hot and tight, her nails biting into her palms beneath the table. It shouldn’t bother her. It wasn’t like Dagger was hers. How could he even look at her after all that she had done, all her terrible flaws? That thought made her cringe, made fear and uncertainty flare like a supernova. Brian’s memory wavered like the heat rising off the desert floor, blurry, indistinct. I don’t want him. Her treacherous body laughed like a demon.

She’d needed to hate him.

She’d spent two years hating him.

Letting that rage keep her steady, keep her balanced, keep her from slipping into the abyss. But this, this was different. Piper’s attraction to him, her interest, sat wrong in Quinn’s gut, pooling low and bitter, curling inside her like something ugly and jealous.

She had spent years refusing to think of Brian that way, imperfect . It felt disloyal. Like tarnishing the memory of a man who had loved her, who had fathered her children, who had died a hero. But the truth didn’t need her permission to exist.

A memory surfaced. The one she had locked away so tightly she sometimes wondered if she’d imagined it. But now, it surfaced, raw, unbidden, and it shattered everything, shook the foundation she’d built her grief on, cracked it open, and let thoughts spill through she’d never dared admit. Not even to herself.

The twins had been just shy of two when Brian and Dagger built them a swing set in the backyard. She’d stood at the window, arms crossed, a glass of water sweating in her palm, watching the two brothers work in the thick Virginia heat. The light was golden, clinging to the last hours of the day, and both men were shirtless, sweat-slicked, muscles flexing as they lifted the beam into place.

So similar.

So achingly similar.

Broad shoulders. Strong backs. That easy way of moving like their bodies just knew how to do things. Brothers. Nearly indistinguishable in frame and presence.

Dagger had edged out Brian. Just slightly. Just enough for her to feel it. The way his forearms knotted with control as he tightened the bolts. The sharpness in his focus. The quiet intensity seemed to hold more than just strength.

She had hated that she noticed it.

Brian had loved her. That was never the question. But his love had never made room for her dreams. He didn’t tell her no. He was too gentle for that. Too good at shaping her world with soft smiles and subtle words. He made her feel like she had everything she needed. That wanting more was ungrateful.

That fight… God, that fight.

She’d come home flushed with excitement. Her boss had offered her a career-making project, lead architect on a multi-million-dollar museum renovation. A chance to step out of the shadows and build something that would outlast her.

Brian had blinked slowly. Why stress yourself out, baby? You’ve already made it.

She’d argued. His mom could help with the boys. He wouldn’t be overwhelmed. She could do this. But he’d only smiled that maddening, patient smile and said, “You don’t have anything to prove.”

Somehow, that was worse than a flat-out no . Because it made her feel silly for wanting it. Like she was the one upsetting the balance. Like she was selfish for dreaming.

She’d let it go. Folded herself down and tucked her ambition behind that tight smile wives wore when they were supposed to be grateful. She'd told herself she was okay.

Then Dagger had shown up.

She remembered how he’d taken one look at her, eyes narrowing with that unflinching gaze, and asked, “What happened?”

She’d tried to shrug it off. Just something dumb. Nothing worth repeating. She was fine.

But Dagger hadn’t let her hide. Not then. Not ever.

You know not just anybody gets through Cornell’s program with honors,” he’d said, his voice low, steady, like he was reciting a fact she’d forgotten. “ You worked your ass off for that degree. You earned that job. You could blow your boss’s expectations out of the water, hell, your own, too. But you’re standing here talking like someone who doesn’t know how fucking brilliant she is.”

She had stammered, tried to defend Brian. “ He’s just looking out for me. He wants me to be happy.” But Dagger had reminded her of the long nights at Cornell, endless hours hunched over drafting tables, her fingers stained with graphite and ink, eyes bloodshot from chasing deadlines that didn’t care if you slept or ate or broke down in the bathroom between critiques.

But Dagger’s expression had only darkened at her response. Not with judgment, but with the kind of protective fury she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of.

No, he said. He’s keeping you small. He’s dressing it up as love, but what he really wants is for you to stay right where he put you. Because if you grow, if you become everything you were meant to be, he’s afraid you’ll outgrow him.

She’d snapped. Told him he was wrong. That he didn’t understand. That he had no right.

But some part of her, quiet and trembling, had known he was right.

Years later, that part of her wasn’t trembling anymore. It was awake .

She saw it so damn clearly, Brian had never tried to control her outright, but he had subtly shaped her world to keep her where he wanted her. Comfortable. Dependent. Home.

Sometimes, in her darkest moments, she wondered if that was why Brian had asked Dagger to be their sperm donor. She had kept pushing for more, and maybe Brian’s fear that she would break loose was too strong. Those boys had kept her home, tied to him, too busy with babies to chase her own ambitions. Because if she was raising their children, she wouldn’t be out there proving she could stand on her own. Because as much as Brian had loved her, he had never really wanted her to fly.

Dagger’s control wasn’t like Brian’s. Dagger didn’t soften her edges, he sharpened them. He didn’t dismiss her fire, he fueled it. He didn’t rein her in, he dared her to run harder, to push further, to be everything she was meant to be. He never told her she couldn’t. He never told her to slow down. He never told her to play it safe. Because Dagger’s control had nothing to do with holding her back. It was about lifting her up, her throat closed, so she could soar.

She trembled on a high, deep, dark precipice. Her mouth went dry, and her eyes flicked to the people around the table. “His name is Kade Hollis. He’s my brother-in-law.”

“He’s a SEAL,” David said with conviction, something flickering in his eyes, and she chalked it up to the way Delta and the SEALs squared off against each other, same military, different mindsets.

“He can rescue me anytime,” Piper said. Before she knew what she was doing, she lurched out of her seat toward the bar, hanging on the edge like it was a lifeline, that maw yawning below her, threatening to swallow her whole.

She let go and leapt into the abyss. “Tequila,” she ordered

The rhythmic clang of iron and the dull thud of fists meeting a heavy bag filled the otherwise empty gym. Dagger barely registered the sweat rolling down his bare back, the strain in his muscles, or the sting of his knuckles. Regret was heavy on him. He should have stuck around back there when they left the bar, the hurt on his teammates’ faces dug into him like nothing else could. They’d had his back in there just like they did on the battlefield, and with the exception of Twister, he’d cut them all out of something so meaningful, he had lost his shit in front of them all. Tex’s reaction kicked him hard. He was pissed, trying to hide his feeling of betrayal behind that mask of anger. But he knew his leader, and the fact that Dagger was struggling with something so devastating would make every protective instinct rise to the surface.

He loved them, and he’d betrayed their trust. That would have to be fixed.

But now, he needed the burn, the punishing blows, the release of tension, or he would do something reckless, something so out of character, he’d feel the consequences for the rest of his life.

Anything to drown out the war raging in his chest. Quinn’s voice still clawed at him, still raw and sharp. The way she’d looked at him, with fire, with fury, with something he couldn’t afford to name. "I want you gone."

His jaw clenched, and he slammed another punch into the bag. Harder. Faster.

She didn’t know. She’d never know.

"You took them from me. You’re the reason ? —"

His knuckles cracked against leather, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

"You let your guard down, you lose."

Brian’s mocking voice cut through the chaos. His face overlaid against the bag. Dagger sucked in a breath. The gym flickered out of focus. Brian had believed that. Lived by it. Now he was dead.

Dagger flexed his fists, breathing hard. He’d promised. He’d told Brian he would watch out for them, make sure his family was safe.

But in the end, he’d been the one to fracture them, taking her boys away. He punched the dead center of his brother’s face. Not only did he have to pick up the pieces of Quinn’s life, while her resentment and hate grew, but Brian had left his own pieces lying around for Dagger to deal with.

Fighting for his nephews was absolute. They were his biological offspring, and she couldn't ever take that away from him. But his love for her burned so hot, so intensely, it was excruciating. To have her say that she never wanted to see him again was like ripping out his heart. Frustration drowned him. SEALs never quit. They were always in the fight, always. Something stirred inside him. What if he showed her what he was feeling, showed her what he had concealed inside him, showed her...? His whole body stilled, so tight that muscles could snap…physically. He almost bit his tongue thinking about how good that would feel to finally touch her, hold her, put his mouth on those lush, full lips and let her suck his soul dry, then refill it again.

His body hardened, aching for her softness, his dick thickening in his cotton shorts, pushing the fabric of his jock strap to overflowing. Blood rushed, his heart pumping with his exertion, and the thought of filling her with every intention of taking her again and again made him shudder with the need so long denied. His body. His thoughts. His iron will to do as Brian asked, even at the sacrifice of her disdain, her hatred, her resentment, and her goddamned heart-wrenching grief. He’d forbidden these aching, impossible thoughts from ever creeping in. Steadfastly supporting her against his brother’s deep-seated fear of somehow losing her.

Brian had never even known what he had, and he’d squandered her love, tried to tie her down and, in the process, whether he knew it or not, break her to his will. It saddened Dagger to think that if Brian hadn’t died, he might have succeeded because her love had always been his, but all Brian saw was the fear.

All Dagger could see was Quinn’s indomitable spirit, her fire, her brilliance. He never doubted that she would one day land a contract as big as a US Embassy. It was clear she was proud of the accomplishment, but the reality of her words hit him hard. She had changed and found her strength, something he always knew was there inside her, something Brian was too afraid of and refused to notice. It was clear she was on her game. State didn’t hand out embassy contracts lightly. This wasn’t just a building, it was a symbol of US sovereignty, a statement of power and diplomacy on foreign soil. Every beam, every wall, had to reflect strength, stability, and everything the US stood for. He was eager to see it built. He knew it would be spectacular.

He reached for the bag again, planting his feet for another round?—

"Goddammit, Dagger, you trying to break yourself?"

The voice cut through the fog. Tex.

Dagger exhaled hard, but he didn’t turn around. Didn’t stop.

"Walk away, LT." There was a plea underlying his hard tone.

"Not happening." Tex’s footsteps were steady, measured, but Dagger could feel the heat rolling off him. Tex was going to have his say, and fuck it. He deserved that. He deserved that respect. This man kept him alive, made the tough decisions, ran them into the ground when he thought that was needed, but cut them slack with the kind of compassion not many Navy officers were willing to show.

"You wanna tell me what the hell that was back there?" Tex asked, voice tight. "Or are you just gonna keep trying to beat your feelings into submission?"

Dagger’s fists stilled against the bag. "You let your guard down, you lose." He exhaled, pressing his forehead to the leather. "I can’t do this right now."

Tex scoffed. "That’s too damn bad, petty officer because you’re going to drop down and give me fucking one hundred whether you like it or not."

Dagger turned, wiping his face with his forearm. Tex wasn’t budging. “That sounds suspiciously like an order, sir.”

Tex crossed his arms. “Did you forget? I own you, mister. In or out of uniform. You belong to Uncle Sam, and I’m his fucking big stick.” He stepped closer. "You think I haven’t noticed you spiraling? You think Bondo hasn’t? Brawler? We all see it, man. But you? You’re too damn stubborn to admit it." There was going to be a team reckoning. Those guys weren’t going to let it slide either.

Dagger set his jaw, shoving past him. He needed air. Tex didn’t let him go.

"Whatever affects you, affects this team," Tex said, not even needing to block his path, his words stopped Dagger cold. "You, my friend, are neck-deep in your own bullshit."

Dagger whipped around, eyes flashing. "It’s personal."

Tex’s jaw ticked. "No. It’s the job. It’s your head. It’s everything."

Silence stretched between them, weighing him down. Damn if he didn’t love this fucking guy.

Then Tex exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. The anger in his voice shifted, still firm, but quieter now.

"You’re not just losing it over Quinn." Dagger felt it like a body blow. Tex shook his head. "It’s Brian." Dagger’s breath was sharp. His muscles locked down. Tex exhaled again, slower this time. "I get it, man. I do. But you gotta start talking before this shit buries you."

Dagger clenched his jaw. He wanted to walk away. He should walk away.

But his chest felt too tight, like the pressure was closing in. Tex wasn’t going anywhere.

Tex sighed, hands braced on his hips. His next words weren’t a demand. Just quiet understanding. "What else are you carrying, Dagger?"

The dam cracked. The need to confide in Tex was overwhelming, warring with his need to remain strong. He never wanted to look weak in this man’s eyes. Dagger ran a hand down his face, sucking in a breath. "Quinn’s kids," he said, voice raw. "They’re biologically mine. Brian couldn’t father children. I helped out." Tex’s head snapped up. Dagger let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Twister’s the only one who knows."

Tex blinked, his expression shifting, anger fading into something deeper. Then, he let out a sharp exhale. "Their father, but not their father,” he muttered. “Fuck, Dagger." Dagger nodded, swallowing hard. Tex sighed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest."

Dagger nodded, but he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Tex studied him for a beat longer. “Family is everything, whether it’s a bunch of knuckleheads, your beautiful wife, or children you brought into this world. They are worth fighting for, Kade, and you’re no quitter. I’d have to boot your ass if I thought losing ever entered into your thick skull. You work the problem just like any other problem. You fucking work it, you fucking find a solution and you fucking make it your bitch. I’ll expect updates.” Dagger groaned. “Don’t give me that whiny bullshit. Get it done.” As he went to turn to leave, his voice came out much, much softer. “You remember how it was with Nora? She kicked my ass, but I got up from the dirt and kicked hers back, and she respected me for it, and it won me the most beautiful woman on the planet.” His voice softened even more, a rasp making Dagger’s throat tight. “Fatherhood isn’t to be taken lightly, I know.” He cleared his throat. “Fighting is in our blood, but honesty wins every time. Keep that in mind when you go into battle.” Dagger barely registered him leaving.

The gym was too quiet now. Too still.

Dagger sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, exhaling in slow increments.

The walls had crumbled under Tex’s unrelenting leadership, but they had been falling ever since he contemplated showing Quinn who he was, that he had always seen her, and had been helpless to keep her out of his heart. It was time to work the fucking problem and make it his bitch.

“Justin?” she whispered, so thankful that her AA sponsor had answered his cell. She was sitting on her bed in her room at the compound provided by the Venezuelan government, a gray secure facility complete with all the amenities they would need. It had been a former hotel until they requisitioned it, secured it with guards, guard posts, and a high concrete fence. She’d entered the place, her steps faltering reeling from her near miss as she registered where they were. Saw the vehicles. The gear stacked near the doors. Her stomach twisted, her cry echoing as she raced to her room. Dagger was here…where they were staying…his whole team.

“Quinn, sweetheart. What’s wrong? You sound…on the edge.”

“I almost took a drink,” she sobbed, tears running down her face. “I didn’t. I left.” Relief rushed through her, the feeling she dodged a lethal bullet, on the cusp of something different, something changing inside her. She was a mess, a freaking terrible mess.

"Quinn, I'm proud of you for recognizing that moment and choosing not to drink. But I need to know. What were you feeling at the time? Was it a memory, a pain, or a moment of overwhelming loneliness? I don't ask this to judge you, but because understanding the why behind that urge is the key to healing. Sometimes it's not just about the drink, it's about what that drink represents. Let's explore that together, so we can find a better way to carry that weight."

"I know you think it's about my kids, but it's not," Quinn said, her voice wavering with raw honesty. "It's not about the boys. It’s about him. I want Kade. When I think about him, it's like a spark that sets me ablaze, intoxicating and undeniable. Sometimes, that thought feels so right, it makes me forget everything else...but then I remember Brian, and it all turns wrong. I ordered that drink to stop these thoughts, to drown that burning need. I just wish I could shut him out, but I can't."

"Quinn, Brian's gone. He's not coming back, and holding onto his memory like a lifeline is only weighing you down. I know you've tethered your heart to his memory, but there's no shame in moving on, even when it hurts. I get that it complicates things, especially with Kade being your brother-in-law, but sometimes the heart just wants what it wants, no matter what the head says. It doesn't mean you're betraying his memory. It just means you're looking for a way to feel whole again. Just promise me you'll take this one step at a time, and not let the past prevent you from healing."

Quinn sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on her like an anchor, steadying but heavy. Brian’s gone. It wasn’t new information, but hearing it so plainly, without the soft edges of grief distorting it, made something inside her crack.

Exhaling sharply, she ran a hand through her curls. “You’re right,” she admitted, the words foreign and jagged on her tongue. “I’ve been trying to control something that isn’t meant to be controlled. Maybe I’ve been using Brian as an excuse to stay angry, to stay stuck, because it’s safer than accepting that I still feel . That I want…him.”

After she’d ended the call, promising Justin that she would stay in touch, she left the room. Feeling enclosed, she couldn’t stay inside. Outside, the night air hit her like a sultry slap, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm inside her.

She could almost feel the fire within her flickering, uncertain, hesitant. She wanted to argue, to push back against the idea that she had a right to want Dagger, that moving forward wasn’t betrayal, that desire wasn’t a crime. But deep down, she knew her sponsor was right. She had bound herself to a ghost, clung to anger and guilt like armor, but none of it changed the truth.

She had never let herself see how different the two brothers truly were. Had never let herself admit that while Brian was calm, steady, deliberate, Dagger was something else entirely.

A force. A storm.

There was an intensity to him, a raw, barely contained power beneath the surface. When he’d glanced up at the house all those years ago, wiping sweat from his brow, his pale green eyes had locked onto hers.

Held her.

Too long.

Long enough for something inside her to shift, to recognize that moment for what it was.

Something forbidden. Something dangerous. Something that, if she had been a different woman, in a different life, with different choices…

Her head down, she walked at a slow pace, wrestling with everything.

Her mind went back to that day she tried to bury. In that moment as she watched him move, laugh, talk, and love his brother, she had wanted him. God help her, she had. She had buried that memory because it was wicked and a betrayal of her husband. But now he was gone, and she was starting to recognize the unhappiness in her marriage, and that was a whole other guilt trip. But the truth hurt, and she had been through enough to be able to fight back from that. The past was gone, her future with Brian was gone. What her new future held?—

“Quinn?”

His deep, aching voice broke into her thoughts like a battering ram, almost as if her heart had conjured him there. Her head snapped up, and her mouth went dry. Holy hell. He looked on the edge of exhaustion, the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly, like he was holding up the weight of the world and finally, finally, letting himself feel it.

She took him in, the woman in her finally set free from the grieving wife, and the sight of him melted her into goo. His voice was as ragged as her breathing as she took in all of him in those flimsy shorts.

A body built for war, endurance, and survival, a testament to the relentless grind of SEAL training, years in the field, and the kind of discipline that never wavered. Never quit. He wasn’t just strong. He was precision-forged, every muscle carved through honest sweat, brutal training, and the unyielding demand to be better, faster, and harder to kill.

His chest was broad and solid, a wall of corded muscle that spoke of raw power, not just for show but for function, built to breach doors, carry anyone, and fight until there was nothing left, then dig deeper and find more. His shoulders were thick, defined in BUD/S by endless log PTs, weighted ruck runs, and the sheer will to never break down. He’d honed that every day since. His biceps and forearms were battle-strong, veins running like rivers beneath sun-warmed skin, proof of grit, endurance, and hands that knew both destruction and restraint. And she swallowed past a lump in her throat, gentleness .

His core was cut, not just with those mouth-watering six-pack abs, but with the kind of deep, functional strength that came from climbing ropes, swimming miles, and surviving on the edge of exhaustion. There was no excess, no softness, only hard-won muscle, earned through pain and necessity. His legs, thick, powerful, made to run, fight, and carry, were trained for the long haul, for the kind of missions where stopping wasn’t an option.

He had save-the-world muscle, gorgeous muscle. Built for impact, for resilience, for the battlefield. Yet, there was something controlled in his power, something measured, because strength like his wasn’t about showing off. It was about knowing when to assault, when to hold, and when to unleash hell.

Then there was that breath-stealing face.

Dagger's conquistador ancestry was stamped into his features with a sharp, unmistakable intensity, the kind of face sculpted by centuries of warriors, explorers, and conquerors. His high cheekbones and strong jawline were carved with an almost aristocratic severity, giving him a presence that commanded attention. His pale green eyes, unusual and piercing, stood out beneath the thick sweep of honey-brown hair, with copper highlights, a legacy of Spanish bloodlines that once dominated the New World. His straight, slightly aquiline nose and the close-cropped beard lent him a look of controlled power, one that spoke of a history written in steel and water.

There was a quiet storm behind his gaze, a calculated patience, much like the conquistadors who waited, watched, and then struck with precision. His olive skin, kissed by the sun but still carrying the undertone of European lineage, hinted at a heritage of men who shaped empires, and, perhaps, carried the weight of their sins. She crumpled at that thought. How she had added to his burden. It was a face that whispered of battles won and lost, of history woven into his DNA, and of a man who, like his ancestors, was both a builder and a destroyer.

The veil of her anger lifted, her impotent hate gone, and she saw him clearly, the man she had wronged, the man she had hurt so deeply. Guilt and regret filled her, and before she could stop herself, she closed the gap between them.

She didn’t know what made her move first. Maybe it was the raw ache in his eyes, the barely contained fire, the quiet, almost desperate way he was looking at her now, like she was something precious, untouchable, his and yet…never his.

"You’ve been in my corner," she whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "All this time, and I was too stupid to know it."

His jaw flexed. In his eyes, she saw him, not just the man he was now, but the man she had once admired, respected…wanted. With a jolt, she realized. H e was looking at her the same way.

"Don’t," he murmured, voice tight.

She blinked. "Don’t what?"

His pale green eyes burned into hers, searching, almost pained. "Don’t call yourself stupid."

Her breath hitched. Something deep inside her cracked.

"You grieved in the way you had to grieve." His voice was low, rough with so much emotion. "I just wanted you to see that I lost him too. That I was devastated, but I didn’t know how to do that without?—"

She inhaled sharply. "Looking weak?"

A long silence stretched between them. Then, he exhaled, just barely. "No. Yeah. Mostly I wanted to be there for you. My strength was all I had to give then."

The words hit her like a blow, not loud, not cruel, but true. They sank in, straight to the hollow space inside her where she'd buried every ounce of guilt. She had wanted to punish him for surviving, for being strong when she couldn’t be. But he hadn’t done it for himself. He’d done it for her .

Her knees almost buckled. The guilt twisted so tight in her chest it felt like her ribs might crack. Her throat burned, her heart squeezed?—

Then the tears came. Hot and sudden, unstoppable.

This man, this damn, impossible, infuriating man?—

"You showed me so much in the bar, Kade," she said, voice trembling, barely able to get the words out. "Showing me your heart. Your precious heart."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He took a step closer. So did she, a collision course neither of them tried to avoid.

The heat, the weight, the sheer gravity between them, it was undeniable, inescapable.

" Quinn, " he warned, voice hoarse.

" Shut up ," she breathed. “I can't be mad at you anymore. I can’t.”

His face contorted, and he cupped her chin, his thumbs brushing at her tear-stained cheeks, his hands big, warm, and gentle. It released something that had been so tight in her from all those years ago, but now it loosened, unraveled, fell away. He lowered his head, those fierce features softened. With a soft plea, a groan of want so intense it sizzled in the air between them, washed over her body like an electric caress.

It wasn’t gentle. It was raw, aching, reckless. Like years of frustration, grief, anger, longing, guilt, and love all colliding at once.

His grip was iron, his hold absolute, like he couldn’t let her go even if the world ended around them. One slid into her hair, gripping, tilting her head back as his mouth claimed hers. The other curled at her waist, pulling her closer, fitting her against him like he had been starving for this.

She melted.

God help her, she melted into him like she belonged there, in freefall, no safety net, no way back.

The warmth of his bare skin, damp with sweat from his workout, burned through her thin top. He smelled like heat, salt, and something so intrinsically him that it made her dizzy.

His lips moved against hers, demanding, seeking, devouring.

When his tongue swept along the seam of her lips, coaxing, teasing, pushing her past the edge of sanity, she let him in.

“ Quinn .” His voice was strained. With a soft, unraveling moan, he buried his face against her neck, scattering hot, moist, open-mouthed kisses down her throat and along her collarbone. A sound escaped her, helpless, needy, wrecked. He groaned in response, his grip tightening, his mouth slamming back to hers, his tongue slipping inside, hot, demanding. Like he needed her closer, needed to consume her whole, but she wanted him to take time with every part of her.

Her fingers tangled in his soft, damp hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and he shuddered, deepening the kiss, swallowing her whole.

Damn. Damn .

This was exquisitely dangerous.

This was sweet devastation.

This was changing everything.