Page 41 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

Twenty- One

Moe

B I simply held her through every god-awful horror movie she picked until she tilted her head and kissed me.

Not a makeout session, just a kiss. Slow, deliberate, and filled with so many words I almost said but couldn’t get out of my throat.

Yet, within that time and all those unspoken words, we've found ourselves in this odd space, where she accepts what we are, and I fight to be patient.

“Don’t apologize,” I say quickly, voice low. “As I was saying, you can head out if you want. Maybe explore the shops, find a donut place. If, by some miracle, you actually like the food I made, you can still use my card. Go nuts.”

I’m rambling now, I know it, but once I step foot on that base, I need to flip the switch.

I have to be someone else; someone who commands respect the second he’s seen, someone who doesn’t hesitate.

I have to be the strongest version of myself, so I’ll give her every ounce of softness I have left before I go.

“I can go out?” she asks, quiet beneath the rustle of my unofficial uniform.

I glance back. Her brows are pinched, and the blanket is wrapped tight around her chest like armor.

Her eyes dart to mine, but she won’t hold the gaze.

That’s when it hits me—this isn’t about my job.

This is about him. That fucking ghost in her past still clinging to her shoulders like a chain, shaping how she sees herself in the world, how free she’s allowed to be.

“Yeah, baby. Of course you can,” I say gently. “Just keep your phone on you. Be safe.”

I finish pulling on my pants and catch the way she stiffens.

She’s still not looking at me, her focus pinned to the tray instead.

The ache in my chest spikes, sharp and sudden, so I look around the room hoping she can’t catch it.

If she’d told me everything sooner, maybe I would’ve done things differently.

Maybe I wouldn’t have joked so much, wouldn’t have touched her so carelessly.

My shoulders sink as I move to the edge of the bed and lean over her, brushing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I expect to see ten charges by noon,” I grin against her hair. “Wreck my bank account, baby. Make it worth it. I wanna know you’re out there living your best life on my dime.”

I pull back and finish buttoning my olive-green shirt, tucking it into my pants with slow, steady hands, every movement practiced even though my mind is anything but.

“You act like we’re dating or something,” she mutters, but the edge of her mouth twitches, trying to hide the smile she doesn’t want me to see.

There she is.

“Oh? We’re not dating? I didn’t know we skipped straight to marriage. That’s even better,” I tease, turning toward the closet just in time to get smacked in the back of the head with a pillow.

“That’s not what I meant!” she laughs, the sound shy and uncertain like she’s still testing how much she’s allowed to enjoy herself .

“You also said we’d keep it casual, but obviously that’s not what you meant either,” I hoist the duffel onto my shoulder, smirking. “Let's be honest, sunshine. You fell for me the second our eyes met.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, pulling the tray into her lap as she unplugs her phone, ready to scroll, hide, and distract herself.

I linger a second longer, memorizing the sight of her tucked into clean sheets, half-pissed and half-awake and still more beautiful than anyone has a right to be.

I want to give her more than this—a real vacation, a day to sleep in without dread clawing at the back of her skull.

I want to give her a life untouched by everything I’m walking into.

But one step at a time.

Maybe when this mission is done, we’ll start fresh. Maybe we can build something right, not just for us, but for people like us. Fuck what Caspian thinks, or any faction leader for that matter. Everyone deserves a shot at this. At her. At love.

I turn and walk to the door, keeping my steps light like she’s still sleeping but right before I close it, I hear her voice—quiet, vulnerable, unknowing of how hard it hits me.

“It wasn’t when our eyes met, you corny asshole…” she says softly. “It was when you smiled.”

“Shit, if you’re going to touch me like that, you might as well ask me out on a date first.” My voice comes out playful, but it shifts into a grunt as the massive man slams me against the wall and kicks my feet apart like he owns the ground I stand on.

“You’re fucking annoying, aren’t you?” he growls, carrying an odd accent I can’t quite place, maybe German?

He drags a hand down my waist while a petite woman rifles through my duffle bag on the floor beside us.

This has been going on since I arrived—nearly twenty minutes of being processed, scanned, and handled like contraband.

I’ve never seen security this tight. Four separate facial recognition systems, three metal detectors, and a full-body scan before I even made it to Greenport’s main base.

Now, I’m getting a hands-on pat-down that’s far more intimate than I ever signed up for.

Still, part of me respects it. I’ll definitely be stealing a few of these protocols for our own compound. Why Sam hasn’t already, I don’t know. You’d think a man obsessed with security would’ve stolen all this tech the second he laid eyes on it.

“Whoa now!” I jolt when the guy brushes the front of my pants. “That pistol’s already got a handler. I’d be careful if I were you—she bites.”

There’s a tap on my shoulder, so I glance down to the petite woman with a raised eyebrow.

I recognize her from a mission Sam and Jasmine ran where they needed Greenport’s support. She came along with their captain. I open my mouth to ask her name, but Mr. Grabby gets there first.

“You’re clear. The captain requested to see you before you get comfortable.”

I want to crack another joke, but it’s harder to focus when the guy talking to me has a shirt draped over his head like a makeshift mask.

Not worn like normal—no, this thing has holes cut where the chest should be, the sleeves tied up at the back of his neck, and the hem gathered at his shoulders.

My lips pull into a tight line and I squint, trying not to laugh.

Guy looks like he could break me in half with his thumb, and I’d rather not offend the man built like Sam and Caspian’s terrifying lovechild .

“That’s, uh—” I nod at the woman, taking my bag. “That’s an interesting uniform.”

He steps closer, chest lining up with my face. Is he part-giant? He’s gotta be six-eight, at least three-fifty. His hand wraps around my bicep like it’s nothing, and starts dragging me down the hall. I pride myself on being in shape, but damn, his palm makes my arm feel like a twig.

I wouldn't say my ego is bruised, more like it's stuck under his big ass foot. I yank out of his grip.

“Halt die Fresse,” he grumbles.

Of course the not so friendly giant is switching languages on me now. I'm fluent in Spanish and Russian—whatever that was, it’s not one I've downloaded on my language app. How disappointing.