Page 51 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

The team’s offer rang in Finn’s ears like the aftershock of an explosion, drowning out the thumping dance music from Ethan’s huge speakers.

Knight Tactical. A permanent position. A home.

If Zara approved.

It was a possibility so unexpected, so perfectly aligned with the deepest wishes he’d barely allowed himself to acknowledge that his mind struggled to process it. The chance to belong somewhere. The opportunity to use his skills for something meaningful. The possibility of building a life with?—

His gaze drifted across the hangar to where Zara stood surrounded by a small crowd, all focused on Izzy’s daughter, Chantal.

The six-year-old was in the middle of what appeared to be an elaborate story, complete with dramatic gestures and impersonations that had her audience captivated.

As Chantal reached what was clearly the punchline, Zara threw her head back in genuine laughter, the sound carrying across the space and landing directly in Finn’s chest.

She was radiant. There was no other word for it.

Not beautiful in the conventional sense that got tossed around carelessly, but luminous with life and intelligence and quiet strength.

The sight of her, so comfortable and cherished among these people who had become her family, tightened something in his chest to an almost painful degree.

He shifted his weight, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the healing wound in his chest. The wound was still tender, a constant reminder of how close he’d come to losing everything. How close he’d come to losing her.

He wanted this. Wanted to be part of this vibrant, messy, loyal group that had carved out a place for themselves in a dangerous world. Wanted to be part of her world, in whatever capacity she would allow.

“You look like a man facing a firing squad rather than a woman,” came Admiral Knight’s voice as he materialized beside Finn, this time accompanied by Jack, Ronan and Deke.

“With all due respect, sir,” Finn replied without taking his eyes off Zara, “the difference isn’t as significant as you might think.”

The men chuckled, and Finn felt a firm hand clap his shoulder, causing him to stifle another wince as the movement jostled his injury.

“Trust me,” Jack said with the easy confidence of a happily married man, “we’ve all been there.”

Finn turned to face them, surprised by the genuine encouragement he saw in their expressions. These men—hardened operatives who had faced down terrorists and international threats—were looking at him with something between amusement and solidarity.

“The team’s offer is genuine,” Admiral Knight said, his tone serious despite the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Your skills would be an asset to Knight Tactical.”

“But we both know that’s not what’s keeping you rooted to this spot,” Ronan added wryly.

Finn exhaled slowly, the deep breath sending a twinge through his side. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to anyone with functioning eyesight,” Deke replied, his normally stern expression softening.

“What my romantically-challenged colleagues are trying to say,” Ronan interjected with exaggerated patience, “is that you’ll never know unless you ask.”

Finn looked between the men, momentarily overwhelmed by their support. These weren’t just Zara’s colleagues; they were her family. And they were encouraging him—practically pushing him—toward her.

“We’ll be watching, of course,” Jack added with a grin. “Ready to offer either congratulations or consolation, depending on how it goes.”

Despite his nerves, Finn found himself laughing, then grabbing his side as the sudden movement pulled at his stitches. “Thanks ... I think.”

“Go on,” Admiral Knight said, his voice gentle but firm. “That’s an order, if you need it to be.”

Drawing a deep breath—carefully, mindful of his injury—Finn nodded and turned toward Zara, his heart hammering against his ribs with such force he was certain everyone in the hangar could hear it.

His palms were sweating, his mouth dry—physical reactions he’d never experienced in actual combat situations, yet here they were, triggered by the prospect of a conversation with a woman who already knew him at his worst.

“Lord, give me the words,” he whispered, the prayer automatic and sincere. “Or at least keep me from saying something monumentally stupid.”

He approached slowly, giving himself time to gather his thoughts and Zara time to notice his approach.

She was still smiling from Chantal’s story, but as she caught sight of him, her expression shifted—not closing off exactly, but becoming more measured, more careful.

The wariness in her amber eyes sent a pang through his chest.

He had put that caution there. Now he had to earn back her trust.

“Hey,” he said, stopping a respectful distance away. “Got a minute?”

Zara glanced at Izzy, who immediately grabbed Chantal’s hand. “C’mon, squirt, let’s go see if there’s any cake left.”

“But I wasn’t finished with my story!” Chantal protested.

“Save it for round two,” Izzy replied cheerfully, shooting Zara a meaningful look before pulling her daughter away.

Left alone—or as alone as anyone could be in a hangar full of highly trained operatives pretending not to watch them—Finn found his carefully prepared words evaporating.

“Admiral Knight offered me a position,” he blurted out, then winced at his lack of finesse. “With Knight Tactical.”

Zara’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s ... unexpected.”

“For me too,” Finn admitted. “Apparently taking a bullet counts as a job qualification around here.” He unconsciously touched his side where the bullet had torn through his flesh.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “It demonstrates problem-solving skills.”

Encouraged by the hint of humor, Finn pressed on. “There’s a condition, though. Your approval.” He took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge in his side. “It would be your team I’d be joining.”

Zara’s expression grew more guarded. “I see.”

“I don’t expect anything,” Finn rushed to clarify, the words tumbling out faster than he could regulate them. “I mean, professionally, yes, I’d expect standard team methodologies and operational parameters, but personally?—”

He stopped, horrified at his own rambling. This was going terribly.

“What I’m trying to say,” he started again, his voice quieter, “is that I want to stay. Here. With Knight Tactical.” He met her eyes directly. “With you, if you’ll have me. In whatever capacity you’re comfortable with.”

Zara studied him, her expression thoughtful but still impossible to read. “And if I’m not comfortable with any capacity?”

The question hit like a physical blow, but Finn had prepared himself for it.

“Then I’ll respect that. Walk away. Find something else.

” He swallowed hard. “I’ve spent most of my life running, Zara.

From connections, from permanence, from anything that might tie me down.

But these past weeks with you—with this team—have shown me what I’ve been missing. ”

Her gaze remained steady on his face, searching for something he desperately hoped she would find.

“I’m terrified,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not of the job. Of you saying no. Of losing any chance to be part of your life. But I’d rather face that fear than spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been.”

The seconds stretched between them, each one an eternity as Finn waited, his heart exposed and vulnerable in a way it had never been before. Across the room, he was distantly aware of the others watching, but all that truly mattered was the woman before him and whatever she would say next.

Zara’s expression softened almost imperceptibly, a slight easing around her eyes that kindled the first fragile spark of hope in Finn’s chest.

“I think,” she said finally, her voice measured but gentle, “that we should continue this conversation somewhere more private. Don’t you?”

It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no either.

For now, that was enough.