Page 8

7

The moment Quinn’s lips softened beneath his, Dagger lost the thread of control he’d been barely clinging to. Relief shot through him like a detonation, white hot and all-consuming. Finally.

She wasn’t fighting him. Wasn’t pulling away with that fierce, unrelenting will of hers. He wasn’t keeping his distance anymore.

That obliterated the self-imposed rule he’d lived by since this mission began, the one that said he could only protect her if he stayed detached. If he didn’t feel. If he didn’t want.

She was right here, and so was he. Wanting her no longer felt like a betrayal.

The need to keep her in this moment burned through him. He pivoted, pressing a hand to the small of her back, guiding her off the path. The world tilted as he maneuvered them into the deep shadows beneath the building’s overhang, his body crowding hers gently against the rough stone wall.

The city faded. Diesel, rain, the faint acrid bite of smoke, all of it drowned beneath the deeper, more intoxicating scent of her . Quinn.

He inhaled her like he was starving.

His hands bracketed her hips, firm but careful, as his mouth moved over hers, not rushed, but searching, savoring, chasing every breath she gave him.

Damn right she did. His body was solid. Anchored. Here for her, just as he had always been.

The kiss deepened, turning urgent. His lips dragged over hers, tilting her head back, wanting more. Needing it. He tasted her slowly, thoroughly, each pass of his mouth reverent and aching.

When she opened to him with a shuddering breath, he answered with a low, raw sound from deep in his chest. His hand slid up, fingers splaying across her ribs, anchoring her to him as their bodies aligned, heat meeting heat.

This wasn’t just hunger. It was recognition . Years of distance collapsing in one endless kiss.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Dagger pressed in, trapping her between the hard wall and the even harder lines of his body, his thighs bracketing hers, his forearm coming up to rest against the stone beside her head. He felt her gasp into him, the way she clung, fingers sliding up, curling around the back of his neck, nails raking into his scalp. He chased the sensation, kissing her deeper, taking, giving, devouring.

The night around them was alive, horns blaring in the distance, the low murmur of voices somewhere outside the wall, the damp breeze through the courtyard, cooling the fever igniting under his skin. But all of it blurred, meaningless compared to her .

His pulse hammered, but in his head, all he could think was she’s here . She wasn’t running, wasn’t slapping him, wasn’t cursing his name.

She was kissing him back .

The realization of that took him under as he unraveled. He’d meant to hold something back of himself, something vital to his survival when it came to Quinn, to save himself from heartache later if she had a change of heart, but he couldn’t grab hold, his will slipping through his fingers like sand.

Every shift of her body, every press of her lips against his, every needy sound she made had him sinking deeper, losing himself in her. He wanted to drown in the feel of her, let her pull him under, take and take until there was nothing left but the fire between them.

He wasn’t sure how they’d gone from kissing to this, his hands gripping her hips, her body caged between him and the wall, the unbearable friction of her pressed so perfectly against him. His name was a whisper against his lips, breathless, desperate, like she wanted more, needed more, and fuck, he wanted to give it to her. God, did he want to give it to her.

It would be so easy .

Just let go. Lose himself. Sink into her, into this . He could take her right here, right now, against this goddamn wall, and she wouldn’t stop him. He knew it. Felt it in the way she arched into him, in the way her fingers fisted in his shirt, trying to drag him closer like she couldn't get enough.

Neither could he.

But then, this was Quinn.

Easy had never been an option with her.

Dagger felt like he’d just kissed his stupid ass straight into a goatfuck of his own making. A full-blown, chaotic, no-coming-back-from-this kind of mess. Because this wasn’t just a kiss. This wasn’t just some moment of weakness, some fleeting slip in judgment that could be shoved aside.

This was Quinn.

After all this time , after years of denying himself, after shoving his feelings down so deep he thought he’d buried them for good, his deepest, most forbidden desire had just detonated, blowing his restraint to hell.

It wasn’t just real . It was real in a way that shook him to his goddamn core. Fuck if that didn’t complicate every damn thing in his life and in her life. They were in this together. There was no stepping back from that or all the shit inherent in that statement.

Now, there was no pretending. No denying. No stuffing his feelings down into some deep, unreachable part of himself where they couldn’t wreck everything in their path.

This was happening. Happening meant consequences. Meant that every choice from here on out carried weight. It wasn’t just about them. What happened between them also happened to those boys. Quinn’s kids weren’t some distant factor in all of this. They were everything . He had already invested in them, already woven into their lives in ways that made his stomach clench. He’d goddamned destroyed her over them, torn her apart when she hadn’t been capable of being the mother they needed.

That was another heavy-duty, soul-gutting conversation they were going to have to have. Because there was no moving forward without reckoning with the past.

Fuck. What a fucking goatfuck. A goatfuck he was running straight into, locked and loaded. Because he’d always been there for her. Nothing had changed, wouldn’t change ever.

He tore his mouth from hers, sucking in air like a man barely keeping himself from drowning. His forehead dropped to hers, his hands flexing against her hips, shaking from restraint. “ Quinn ,” he rasped, his voice wavering, showing the battle he waged against his baser instincts.

She made a small, desperate sound and surged forward, capturing his mouth again, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling . He groaned, deep, almost a growl, his control slipping for one dangerous second before he forced himself to grip her wrists and press them against the wall, breaking the kiss, breaking the madness.

Her whiskey-colored eyes were dazed, lips swollen, breath coming fast. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head, trying to move closer again. “Don’t stop.”

His jaw clenched, his pulse slamming in his throat. “You like to test me, woman,” he rasped. Fuck, this was killing him. He knew damn well how easy it would be to just let it happen . To let lust take over. To give in to what both their bodies were screaming for. But this… This thing between them, it was more than just need.

If they started this on easy, they’d never survive the hard.

He closed his eyes for a beat, exhaling roughly before meeting her gaze again. “I could sink into you, Quinn,” he said, voice thick with longing, raw with truth. “I could get lost in you. Hell, I think I’ve been waiting my whole damn life for this.” His hands slid up her arms, then back down, slow, reverent. “But I’m not about to fuck this up before it even starts. There’s more to us than just our bodies, and I don’t want that to define this moment.”

Quinn swallowed, her chest rising and falling fast, the battle playing out in her expression, want warring with understanding. His stomach clenched as her gaze flickered to his lips, like she was about to argue, about to push again.

Then something shifted in her.

The fight melted just enough for acceptance to slip in.

His chest heaved, his body going taut, and that…that fucking acceptance meant more than her kiss because that right there was a mental shift to something more, something changing, something different, opening up possibilities, opportunities, perspectives. No fleeting orgasm could compete with that beautiful transition.

She lifted a hand, fingers gentle as they brushed along his jaw, tracing the edge with her thumb, her expression full of something dangerous . Not just want. Not just need. Something deeper. There was that real again. “You’re serious,” she murmured, almost in awe.

Dagger huffed a breathless laugh, his hands still wrapped around her wrists, reluctant to let go. “Deadly.”

She exhaled shakily, her fingers pressing lightly into his cheek before she leaned in, tilting her chin, and kissed him once more, slow , deep, deliberate. No heat, no desperation, just Quinn . A kiss that left him utterly demolished .

When she pulled back, her voice was quiet. “Then we need someplace private.”

His grip on her tightened, and his gut clenched as his mind immediately went to the worst possible option. “Not your room,” he ground out. “I don’t trust myself anywhere near a bed with you.” He exhaled. “Not mine, for the same reason, and there’s a bunch of nosy assholes I share that space with. I’m afraid they’ll punch your lights out.”

She gave a soft, breathless laugh, her hands slipping over his biceps, lingering over his forearms before dropping away. “I know you’re trying to make this lighter, but they’d be justified.” She shook her head, looked away, the air charged with all the tension between them. Okay,” she murmured, thinking, then her lips curled slightly. “The roof of this Camp Med has a lounge.”

Dagger exhaled slowly, a smile at her joke ghosting his mouth as he nodded, trying to get his damn heartbeat under control. “That’ll do.”

She turned, stepping out of the shadows, and he forced himself to follow. He could still feel the heat of her, taste her on his lips, his body tight with restraint, his dick harder than diamond.

Then she did something that destroyed him all over again. She reached back, snagging his hand. His chest clenched , his heart going bonkers in his ribcage.

Yeah, a completely beautiful, strip-you-down-to-your-skin goatfuck.

There was no getting out of this.

He was already gone.

The secure compound had once been a high-end boutique hotel before the Venezuelan government repurposed it for visiting military and CIA, transforming the structure into a fortified stronghold. The perimeter was now reinforced with a concrete barrier, topped with razor wire and patrolled by armed guards. Inside, the original elegance of the hotel remained in places, polished tile floors, lush courtyards with tropical plants that had survived the transition, but the space had been altered for function over aesthetics.

A gym had been set up in what used to be a separate suite of conference rooms, but now the walls were gone and it was heavy with weights, treadmills, and punching bags. The former banquet hall now served as a mess hall where operators could eat between shifts. The conference room, once a lavish meeting space, had been stripped down to its essentials, a long table, chairs, and high-tech monitors for debriefs and mission planning. An armory had been established on the ground floor, fully stocked with weapons, ammunition, and tactical gear, while an adjacent room housed secured cages for personal equipment, each SEAL had a designated space for their gear, a level of organization that suited their team.

Unlike most deployments, where space was limited and conditions harsh, this compound afforded them individual rooms, each with a bed, dresser, and small bathroom. It wasn’t luxury, but it was better than a tent in the desert, and after years of rotating through war zones, a real bed and privacy were rare commodities.

But the best part of the compound, at least for the moment, was the rooftop lounge.

Dagger led Quinn up the stairs, his fingers still tingling from where she’d held his hand. The lounge had been left mostly intact. A bar stretched along the back wall, its glass shelves empty, while lounge chairs and outdoor couches were scattered around the deck. Below them in a separate structure, there was an enclosed Olympic-sized pool where he and his brothers trained. It was quiet up here, deserted at this late hour.

Dagger exhaled slowly as they approached a couch near the bar, dropping onto it, his body still thrumming from the kiss, from her . His dick was still hard, his body on fire, a testament to what she did to him, but he forced himself to push that aside. Quinn needed this moment. They needed this moment.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “How are you doing?”

Quinn hesitated, her gaze shifting to the skyline, her fingers lacing together in her lap. The quiet stretched between them before she finally spoke.

“All that I put you through…” Her voice was hushed, weighted with something raw. “It was unfair. Cruel .” She swallowed, her throat working. “I was so angry at you, but you took everything I dished out.”

Dagger stilled as she turned to face him, her brown eyes shining under the glow of the ambient lights.

She blinked rapidly, and then, just like that, her composure cracked. Tears welled, slipping down her cheeks, and he was moving before he realized it, reaching out and clasping her hand.

Quinn sucked in a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around his. “Damn SEAL. You just wouldn’t quit on me. You guys take those oaths so damn seriously,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Came back every time, no matter how I acted. We both know it was terrible .”

“You were grieving.”

“So were you,” she countered, her lips pressing together. “I just never even acknowledged it. You lost Brian too.”

Dagger let out a slow, uneven breath, his chest going tight. Fuck .

“It was a shock,” he admitted, his voice rough.

Quinn searched his face, and when their eyes met, he felt it, that shift, that tenderness in her gaze. For him.

It damn near killed him.

His fingers tightened around hers, his throat going thick as he absorbed the look in her eyes, something he never thought he’d ever see directed at him.

Quinn made a soft sound, like it hurt her to see him like this, and then she was shifting closer, her free hand lifting to touch his face, her fingers brushing over the rough scruff on his jaw. “I hurt you so badly,” she murmured. “How can I ever make that up to you?”

Dagger inhaled sharply, turning his head just enough to press his lips to her knuckles. “This is a damn fine start.”

She exhaled softly, her lips parting. “Oh,” she whispered. Then, teasing, her breath still uneven, “The kissing was damn mind-blowing.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Damn right it was.”

Her gaze darkened, her pupils dilating as her fingers curled against his jaw. “That was pretty spectacular.”

Dagger barely had a second to process the words before the heat in her eyes overwhelmed every ounce of restraint he had left. A rough sound escaped him, deep from his chest, and then he was moving , his hands sliding into her hair, cupping her jaw as he engulfed her, capturing her mouth in another kiss.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t careful.

It was desperate, heady, consuming .

Quinn melted into him, her hands slipping up his arms, curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. He drank her in, deepening the kiss, losing himself all over again.

Dagger kissed her like he was absorbing every shattered piece of the past, her regret, her remorse, her passion, for him . It was all there, raw and laid bare in the way she moved against him, in the way she clung, her fingers threading through his hair like she didn’t want to let go.

Fuck , he didn’t want her to.

The taste of her energized him, made him want more, more, and some more. Not just because he wanted her, God, he wanted her, but because this wasn’t just about want. It was everything . Every second of grief, anger, longing. Every moment of silent suffering, of choices that had cut deep and left wounds in both of them.

It was her . It was him .

It was them .

When he finally pulled back, breaking the kiss, she trembled against him, her breath ragged, her fingers still curled into his shirt like she wasn’t ready to be untethered.

Her brown eyes shimmered under the soft glow of the rooftop lights. “I was a bitch ,” she whispered, her voice rough with emotion. “We both know it.”

Dagger’s hands tightened against her, but before he could say anything, she lifted her fingers to his mouth, covering his lips, her touch unbearably gentle.

“Don’t deny it,” she murmured.

He wanted to tell her that he’d never used that term. Never would. It was disrespectful, and being a bitch was warranted when someone’s whole life had turned upside down. But with her fingers over his mouth, he remained mute.

Quinn drew in a slow, uneven breath. “You were right to take the boys from me.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed through it, her fingers dropping to his arm, clutching at his forearm as if she needed the grounding. “I wasn’t fit. I had lost myself… so deeply in the dark, in the bottle. They weren’t safe.” Her throat bobbed, her lips pressing together like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I didn’t know who to be without Brian, and that’s something I need to find for myself.” More tears welled in her eyes. More distress. “God, that hurts so much to admit that.”

Dagger felt the weight of it in his chest. In his ribs. Like something solid and unrelenting. He already knew this deep down. He waited, saying nothing, letting her speak.

She lifted her gaze, meeting his with something raw, something so open it nearly leveled him. “Thank you,” she said, voice hoarse, broken. “For making the hard choices when I couldn’t. For keeping them safe.”

His chest tightened, his throat going thick.

Then she squeezed his arm, her grip fierce. “And for making it easy to keep them in my life.” Again , she paused, something flickering in her expression, something reverent. Admiration. “I know this will be hard to believe,” she said quietly, “but I’m not only grateful , Dagger. I have so much respect for you.”

His breath hitched.

Dagger reeled, his mind scrambling to process what she was saying. She wasn’t just acknowledging the past. She was giving him something he never thought he’d have. Vindication. Respect. Fucking hell, if she kept looking at him like that, she was going to unravel him all over again.

This was a breakthrough .

A fucking monumental one.

Then Quinn moved, just the barest shift, her fingertips still resting on his jaw, her thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth, like she needed to feel him, to reassure herself he was real.

He swallowed hard, his pulse slamming against his ribs. He’d taken a hundred blows in his life, but this? This was the one that knocked him breathless.

But she wasn’t done with the body slams. Without warning her face crumpled, the first sob ripped from Quinn’s throat like something wrenched straight from her soul.

Dagger barely had time to react before she completely shattered.

Her whole body curled inward, her face pressing against his chest as deep, gut-wrenching sobs tore through her. No more composure, no more measured words, just pure, unfiltered remorse.

It gutted him.

She wasn’t just crying. She was breaking apart , right there in his arms, her fingers twisted in his shirt to keep from dissolving completely.

Fuck, he pulled her across his lap, feeling the soft curves of her body press into him, the warmth of her bleeding through his clothes. It was excruciating. Every part of him ached, from the tight coil in his chest to the unbearable hardness throbbing between his thighs. He clenched his jaw, locking that need away as tight as a sailor’s bunk, because this moment wasn’t about him. It was about her. He’d rather fucking suffer than take something from her when she was like this.

His arms curled around her, pulling her in, sheltering her from the world as she wept against him. He didn’t tell her it was okay, didn’t whisper reassurances or try to stop the storm tearing through her. A long-overdue collapse under the weight of everything she had carried for too goddamn long. It was tearing him apart.

She sobbed until she shook, her body wracked with years of pain, guilt, and sorrow. All he could do was hold her through it, take it , absorb it, let her feel every jagged piece of it. He owed her that. Brian owed her that. She owed that to herself. He squeezed her, letting her know that he was there, that he had her, and he wasn’t going anywhere until she was steady.

Because one thirty-minute conversation wasn’t going to fix this. He knew that. So, he let her cry . Let her rip his goddamn heart out with the rawness of it, the struggle in her making it impossible to breathe.

How many nights had she suffered like this alone ? How many times had she drowned herself in a bottle because she didn’t have anyone to do what he was doing now? Fury coiled in his gut, but it had nowhere to go. Dagger thrived on control, on fixing, on charging straight into battle with a plan. This wasn’t something he could fight, something he could defeat with sheer force of will. It was just something he had to weather with her.

She was burning down, coming apart in a thousand pieces of ash and ache, and he was the steady, relentless beat of the ocean’s heart against the shore, cooling her, grounding her, holding her together until she could rise again.

By the time the storm finally passed, Quinn was exhausted, her breath coming in ragged gasps against his chest. Her fingers uncurled from his shirt, her shoulders slumping, her body still trembling from the force of it.

Dagger exhaled slowly, pressing his lips to her hair, letting his own heartbeat calm before he spoke. “We need to get some rest,” he murmured. She didn’t answer right away, just inhaled shakily, pulling herself together.

Then, voice rough and hoarse, she whispered, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Dagger closed his eyes for a beat. Fuck.

Temptation surged through him like a goddamn tidal wave. The thought of being with her tonight, of keeping her close, of letting his presence be the thing that steadied her. Damn.

But there was too much between them. Too much still unresolved.

Dagger sighed, reluctantly loosening his hold on her. “That’s an order, babe. Tex will kill me if I don’t.” He’d had enough of Tex chewing his ass.

Her tired laugh was barely a breath against his chest, but it still managed to wreck him.

They left the roof, but he didn’t let her go. He kept his arm around her all the damn way, finally leading her down the hall to her room, keeping her body close, warm, achingly familiar. When they reached her door, she turned to him, something quiet and searching in her expression.

He didn’t hesitate.

Dagger cupped her jaw, tilted her face up to his, and kissed her. Slow, deep, lingering.

It was different from before, not frantic, not desperate. Just real.

A promise and he damn well fulfilled this one all the way to the top.

Quinn felt it. He knew she did, because when she pulled back, her breath shuddered against his lips, her fingers curling into his shirt like she wasn’t ready to let go.

Then, without a word, she reached for the door handle, tugging it open.

She backed into the room, her eyes still locked on his, silent invitation written in every part of her.

Dagger’s hands clenched at his sides, his body going taut. Goatfuck danger! Back up. Get out of there…fucking incoming!

“I love your impulses,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “Especially this one.” His lips quirked slightly. “Don’t mistake my resistance for disinterest, Quinn.” His breath hitched. “I want to fuck you so bad right now, it’s physically painful .” His entire body was a live wire, tight with need, his muscles locked so hard they ached. His cock throbbed, pressing uncomfortably against the unforgiving fabric of his pants, every pulse a demand he couldn’t answer. His skin was too hot, his breath uneven, his restraint stretched to the breaking point, painful wasn’t just a word, it was a goddamn state of being.

She exhaled hard. His fingers brushed the doorframe, one goatfuck away from stepping inside and blowing all the progress they were making. It was excruciating but necessary, and when they did hash all their baggage out, taking her, consuming her, fucking her would be so much more satisfying. “But we have so much shit between us,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, raw with honesty. “It would be a mistake.”

She swallowed hard, emotion flickering in her gaze.

“Bear with me,” he said, searching her face. “I know this is hard, and we’ve—” His voice broke. He exhaled roughly, closing his eyes for a second, pulling himself together. “We’ve been at war ,” he said, steadier this time. “Neither one of us has really mourned, which is another damn discussion. We’ve hurt each other. That doesn’t disappear overnight.” Quinn’s fingers tightened on the doorframe, her knuckles white.

Then she looked up at him. He saw it. The shadows in her eyes. The hesitation. The thing she hadn’t said yet. Dagger’s stomach dropped. “Brian,” he said softly. Her breath hitched hard . Her gaze immediately dropped, her shoulders stiffening. She turned away, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t talk about that yet.”

Dagger inhaled slowly, nodding once, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “We’ll leave it for another time,” he said quietly. “But we can’t move forward until we discuss everything, babe.” His voice was gentle but firm. “ Everything. ”

A beat of silence. Then, finally, she nodded. That was enough. For now. He exhaled, stepping back from the door.

“Get inside,” he ordered, voice gruff. “Lock it.” Quinn hesitated, lingering in the doorway, watching him with that same unreadable look.

Then, voice low and trembling, she whispered, “Goodnight, Dagger.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, his whole body still tight with restraint. “Get inside and close this door,” he repeated, his voice sharper this time. Then, muttering under his breath, “ Before I lose my shit and fuck you anyway.”

Quinn’s breath stuttered. But she obeyed. The door clicked shut, the lock turning with a quiet snick . Dagger stood there for a long moment, exhaling roughly, pressing a hand against the wall. Sonavabitch . If they survived this deployment, he was going to deserve a goddamn medal.

He turned toward his quarters, moving on pure muscle memory as chaos churned through his brain. But he didn’t sleep. Brian’s name was like an unexploded grenade. Quinn held the pin.

Dagger lay on his back, eyes on the ceiling, bleeding from wounds no one could see. Her voice, her sobs, Brian’s name. All of it looped through his mind like a goddamn torture reel.

He could still feel her. Taste her. The heat of her body burned on his skin, her touch ghosting along his jaw like a brand. The way her breath caught when he’d said Brian’s name.

It sat in his chest like a live round. Lodged too deep to dig out.

Because tonight, it wasn’t just her ghost he was fighting.

It was Brian’s.

His brother. His goddamn hero.

The man he’d followed into war. The man he’d lost.

The man whose wife he wanted.

He’d told himself it was nothing at first, admiration, respect. A whisper he could ignore. But it had grown. Twisted. Become something dark and hungry.

She was Brian’s. That should’ve been the end of it. But it never was.

He stood by Brian on his wedding day, smiling through the ache, watching Quinn glow under his brother’s touch, knowing deep down, he wanted that glow for himself.

That made him the worst kind of man.

Not because she had been Brian’s.

But because Brian had loved her.

When his brother died, the grief nearly destroyed him. Not just because he lost the man he admired more than anyone in the world, but because of one filthy, brutal thought that slithered into his brain in the dark. She’s not Brian’s anymore.

He’d wanted to claw it out. Burn it out. But it was there, and some broken part of him had felt unshackled.

He’d taken the boys because he had to. Not to punish Quinn. Not to take. But because she was drowning, and she wouldn’t let anyone save her.

Even now, when she was finally back, when she touched him like she meant it?—

It still felt like a sin because he’d wanted her for so long. Because some part of him had always been waiting. Did that make him unforgivable? God, maybe it did. But he didn’t know how to stop wanting her. Not then. Not now. For the first time in his life, he had no idea how to fix that.

When Dagger got up the next morning, he was bone tired. The shower didn’t help.

The brutal cold rinse didn’t help. The goddamn screaming match in his head didn’t help.

By the time he stepped into the breakroom for muster and PT, he was ready for whatever fresh hell the day had in store.

As soon as he pushed open the door, heads turned. A fist flew at his face. Bam .

It was like getting hit by a sledgehammer wrapped in concrete. Pain detonated in his jaw, sharp and unforgiving, sending him staggering back, his vision whiting out for half a second before he hit the floor, hard.

Brawler didn’t hold back. Ever.

The man fought like he was born in a back-alley brawl and never left. He wasn’t just big, he was brutal. Built like a bouncer who never let troublemakers leave the club in one piece. Six-three, thick with muscle, streetfighter instincts honed to perfection.

He’d grown up learning how to hurt people before the Navy gave him the skills to make it lethal. And right now, all that power was aimed directly at Dagger.

Dagger blinked, jaw throbbing, blood filling his mouth.

Brawler stood over him, a fucking mountain, arms crossed over his massive chest, his gray eyes locked on Dagger like a judge, jury, and executioner.

But there was something else.

Something flickering behind the fury.

Hurt. Brawler’s nostrils flared, like he was breathing through something bigger than anger. The way his jaw worked, like he was grinding down the words he wanted to say but wouldn’t.

Not the kind from throwing punches, the kind that settled deep in the ribs, the kind you couldn’t shake.

For a split second, Dagger saw it. As if he wasn’t already in emotional overload. He’d hurt the big man, dammit all to hell!

“You going stay down,” Brawler growled, voice like gravel, “or you going get up and take another?”

Dagger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting blood onto the tile.

He sighed.

Armageddon was upon him.