Page 79 of Hunted to Be Mine

“I won’t be alone.” He touched my arm; his fingers were cold through my sleeve. “You’ll be with me every step.”

“Through an earpiece? That’s not the same, and you know it.”

His hand slid down and caught mine, thumb brushing my knuckles. “I know you’re worried…”

“Don’t.” I pulled free. “Don’t manage me.”

Something flickered in his gaze—annoyance, maybe respect. “Then what do you want me to say? That I’ll wait? That I’ll let this window close because of a few cracked ribs and some shivers?”

“I want you to admit this isn’t only about the mission.” The words burst out. “You’re pushing because the more time we have, the more you have to think about what we might find.”

His face shut down. “That’s not—”

“It is.” I stepped in, refusing to give him room to retreat. “You’re scared of what you might remember. Of who you were. So you’re rushing in half-dead from exhaustion instead of giving yourself time to steady.”

“What I feel doesn’t matter,” he said, voice flat. “The mission—”

“Stop it.” I pressed a hand to his chest—careful of his ribs, firm enough to land. “Stop hiding behind the mission. Stop pretending you’re just a weapon. If you’re going to do this, fine, but be honest about why.”

For a second, I thought he’d walk out. His body went rigid, his face blank. Then a crack formed in that mask.

“What if I remember something I can’t live with?” he asked, so quiet I almost missed it. “What if I find out I’m someone you can’t—” He cut himself off.

My anger drained. “Can’t what?”

“Someone you can’t trust.” I heard the thing he didn’t say: someone you couldn’t love.

I put my palm against his cheek. His skin was still cool.

“I told you I don’t believe in broken people. I meant it. Whatever we find, we face it together. But you have to be alive for that.”

He covered my hand with his. “I need to do this tonight.” Not a command. A request. “It’s our best shot. I’ll be careful. I’ll keep the line open.”

I searched his face: exhaustion, resolve, the fear he tried to bury. I knew I couldn’t stop him. Maybe I shouldn’t.

“Okay.” I nodded once. “But first, you eat and change into dry clothes. And you take these.” I pulled two pain pills from my bag. “Non-negotiable.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

I made packet soup while he changed, my hands unsteady as I stirred. He came out in dry clothes, hair still damp but no longer dripping. I handed him the bowl.

“Eat. All of it.”

He sat and did as told, watching me while I checked the burners.

He spoke between spoonfuls. “They’re clean.”

“Where did you even get these?”

“Convenience store three blocks east. No cameras. Cash only.”

“Of course.” I shook my head. “And you just knew where to find it.”

The corner of his mouth ticked.

I turned one handset over. “How does this work?”

“I’ll keep the line open. You’ll hear everything. I’ll tell you what I see.”