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Closing her eyes, her head fell back to give his mouth better access, as he clasped her on either side of her ribcage, arching her back so that her breasts thrust upward toward his face. She groaned in surrender, in anticipation of feeling his mouth on her. The wanting made her weak. The waiting made her bite her bottom lip.

This felt way too damn good to stop. His hand slid over her breasts, the slight roughness of his palms abrading the sensitive tips as he gently kneaded her flesh. The lazy friction of his thumbs swirling around her aureoles, rasping across her aching nubs, gentle at first, then harder, firmer, creating a firestorm of sensation that spiraled straight down to the pit of her stomach and lower.

Sliding her hand into his hair, she pulled his head down, silently begging him to take her into his mouth. Without further encouragement, he licked at her stiff nipples, a wet, velvet swipe of his tongue over each tender peak, tormenting and teasing her. The gentle scrape of his teeth was both sweet pleasure and exquisite pain. She was panting, and he was breathing just as hard. Hot, damp puffs of air caressed the tips, and the stubble on his jaw chafed her skin. When he finally sucked her deep into his mouth, the pleasure was so intense, her entire body shuddered, and she cried out.

Her response tore a groan out of him, too, and his mouth came back to hers in a desperate needy kiss that made her mind spin.

“Come for me, Walker.” He stroked between her legs, caressing her with slow, unhurried swipes meant to tease and build tension, cresting high and higher, hotter and hotter. One finger, then two pushed deep inside of her and that quickly, that easily, tremors shivered in aching waves. She moaned helplessly, incoherently. Her hands clutched his shoulders as her hips moved in time to the circling pressure of his thumb, and the driving forces of his fingers impaling her. She felt hot, needy as her climax built, those waves swamping her in exquisite pleasure so strong, she tossed her head back in utter abandon, her lips parting on a shocked gasp of breath as the force of her orgasm sent her over the top and into heaven.

“Cooper,” she whispered, his name tumbling from her lips. She shattered completely, blissfully.

She was still shuddering, still jerking against his hand and the oh-so-clever fingers he’d slid inside her, when he was already slipping them out, taking her mouth with his. “Let me in,” he breathed against her lips. The raw truth of it was she was craving the feel of him, filling her up, as she’d never craved anything before.

Then he was jerking her down on top of him. She pushed down as hard as she could, grinding on him, glorying in the long groan of satisfaction she wrenched from him as she clenched her still twitching muscles tightly around him and rode him hard.

His hands were on her hips, and with a low, rumbling growl that reverberated in his chest, he took her, groaning as she withdrew, and surged back again, her strokes lengthening, her pumping hips gaining momentum.

He reared up, pushed her to the floor, his thrusts grew urgent and demanding, and wholly primal. Friction, pressure, and heat fused together in a tangle of sensation, until her entire being was focused on the connection of their bodies, of the emotions swamping her at the impatient, restless need swelling within her.

Framing her face in his hands, he seized her mouth again, as if his next breath of air could only come from her. His kiss was deep and rapacious, and laced with a desperate kind of passion she could taste with every sweep of his tongue and feel in the aggressive way he possessed her body.

She slid her arms around him, flattened her hands on the firm, flexing muscles along his back, and held on for the deeply welcome ride. Before long, he dragged his mouth from hers and stared down at her, his breathing shallow as his climax washed over him, through him. Eyes closing in an ecstasy that was in every line of his face, he tossed his head back and arched against her hips, a helpless groan ripping from his throat as his flesh pulsed hot and hard inside her and he shuddered from the sheer force of his orgasm.

When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck while his heart beat strong and steady against her chest. She closed her eyes and held him close, reveling in the quiet, tender moment while it lasted, and how perfect and right it felt being with Cooper in his passion, in his need, and in his release.

No other man, all those nameless, faceless fucks, had ever made her feel this complete, this kind of intimate connection, this stunning shot to her heart.

Their breaths came in heavy pants, and she slowly became aware that she was damp and sweaty. The air inside the room had grown humid with their body heat. She half expected a chuckle from Skull, something to put the ferocity of what they’d just done in some kind of proper perspective.

Was it always going to be like this? They would soon be back outside the wire and too soon be right in the midst of tracking down their quarry. Of course, the danger and suspense certainly heightened their sensations, so there was that element as well, feeding into all this. None of which explained the burning sensation that gathered behind her tightly squeezed eyelids. Nor her reluctance to let him go, to look him in the eye and see quite clearly the man he was, a man she coveted, a man she could let down her guard with, open her heart, let him see her.

He was still holding on to her, his face buried in her hair, as if he wasn’t ready to let go, either. He’s still recovering, that’s all. Not that it mattered. She willed herself to move, to gather herself, put her head back in the appropriate place—on the job and keep it all in perspective, even though soothing him after the news of his father fulfilling something vital in her. To be there for him when no one had ever been there for her, not emotionally. She craved for him to see her when no one had ever really seen her, not even Eva.

But at the first hint of movement on her part, his arm tightened around her, his fingertips dug more deeply into her hair. So, she did what felt natural and right. She pressed her lips against the damp, heated skin of his neck, making her kiss sweet and gentle. And when she felt him kiss her hair, she kissed him again, drawing her mouth closer to the hard edge of his jaw, before nuzzling against his cheek, until he turned his face and met her lips with his own. They kissed softly, silently, reverently, every moment of which quenched her thirst for him in a way that the most intense orgasms could never hope to match.

“Walker,” he whispered, his voice deep, husky, overcome.

“I know,” she whispered, clutching him tightly. “I know.”

“Fuck,” Skull said, his voice raspy and sounding gruff as his cell chimed along with hers.

She did move then, but he captured her face between his palms, his weight pressing into her. His expression was as serious as she’d ever seen it, his gaze locked onto hers so intently it was as physical a connection as the kisses they’d just shared. There was a stunned silence between them, the power and essence of which she saw reflected in his gaze as well.

It was both a relief to know she wasn’t alone in reeling from the magnitude of what she’d felt had happened just now, even if she couldn’t define it, and a threat to her very protected heart. She had no idea what would happen between them. Her thoughts just couldn’t seem to extend beyond this powerful moment.

He said nothing, just held her gaze for the longest time. Then he took her hand and pulled it up to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles, opened her fingers all the while holding her gaze. Then he closed his eyes and kissed the center of her palm before curling her fingers—still damp from his mouth—over it. He wrapped his hand around hers as he looked down into her eyes, his own an almost impossible cinnamony brown through the fringe of his thick black-as-sin lashes.

“Trust this, Walker. It’s as real as it’s going to get.”

She was torn by the almost overwhelming instinct she felt to pull his hand up and give him the same gift, demand the same vow, startled by how strong the urge was to bind herself to him in such a significant way. Ultimately…she couldn’t. There was so much between them, but even more still left unsaid.

And if she couldn’t tell him the rest, then she had no business making promises. Of any kind. And yet she curled her fingers tightly into her palm, knowing he felt her do it. It was as much of a vow as she could make. That she did, indeed, want what he wanted. She just had to think about it, dissect it, make sure she wasn’t getting in over her head. It wasn’t fair to him right now, but again, this was so new to her, she had no idea how to act, no blueprint to consult, or plan to follow.

Cooper “Skull” Sullivan just quite simply discombobulated her, and it felt so goddamn good.

Skull stood at the edge of the briefing room, his arms crossed over his chest. Walker hovered just to his left, the tension between them palpable. Bones, fed, freshly washed, and in a clean vest sat by his side. Kodiak had taken him after Skull had asked him to handle the MWD while he talked to his mom. The big guy had done a fine job.

The overhead light buzzed softly, casting harsh shadows against the dull gray walls. Seated around the conference table were GQ, Breakneck, Anna, and the rest of the team and CIA personnel, the air pulsing with tension. A large screen dominated the front of the room, the face of Commander Justin Bartholomew, flickered in and out with digital distortion, his uniform sharp and crisp despite the video compression. He’d replaced their deceased leader, Lieutenant Commander Terry Patchett, murdered by the cartel they thought they had dismantled.

“…we’re still discussing the ramifications of the op,” the commander was saying, his voice laced with the static of a less-than-stellar connection. He and Terry had graduated from the same BUD/s class and had been close ever since. Justin wore the weight of that tragedy plainly on his face. “There’s concern at the top about how this will look if it turns sideways. And we all know Pincho’s got eyes on everything right now.”

A flash of anger surged through Skull, but GQ got there first. GQ all but exploded out of his seat, slamming a fist on the table hard enough that the metal clipboards rattled. “To hell with optics,” he snapped. “We’ve got two Americans, our teammates, rotting in a cartel hole! And Blade’s family is about to be in the line of fire. We can’t stand by while the brass twiddles their thumbs. We’re out of time.”

A flicker of irritation crossed the commander’s face. “I’m not telling you it’s my opinion, GQ. I’m telling you what I’m hearing. I’ve fought tooth and nail for approval?—”

“Yeah,” Breakneck cut in, leaning forward. “But if your bosses keep waffling, Pincho’s going to figure out Blade is missing sooner rather than later. The second she does, she’ll be out for blood.”

Walker, who had maintained a taut silence, let out a frustrated breath. “This isn’t just about the family. Once Pincho realizes Blade’s been captured, she’ll make the connection to the SEALs. That puts Hazard and Leigh in immediate jeopardy. She’ll either move them or kill them.”

A momentary hush settled over the room. Skull was certain everyone else felt the same suffocating grip of time. Two days left on Pincho’s deadline, but they all knew it was a flimsy promise at best.

The commander cleared his throat. “I’ve warned them. But you know how it is. They’re worried about blowback, fallout, all of it. I understand your frustration but keep it together.”

GQ looked ready to punch a hole through the conference table. Instead, he took a sharp breath and sat back down, hands balled into fists on his lap. A few feet away, Iceman stood with his arms folded, eyes distant and unreadable. Their master chief was simmering, but in typical fashion, keeping his anger contained for now.

Breakneck ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Look, if we can’t go in guns blazing until we get the official go-ahead, then someone’s gotta pretend to be Blade. We need to keep Pincho from realizing he’s gone. Use his phone. Go into Lealtad and stir enough smoke to keep her blind.”

Anna tapped her pen against a notepad, eyes narrowing as she thought it through. “That would be…risky.”

“It’s risky not to,” Breakneck shot back. “If Pincho finds out Blade is missing, that’s a death sentence for Hazard and Leigh. We need to buy ourselves time.”

Skull watched Anna’s expression shift from apprehension to grim resolve. She glanced over her shoulder at a slight figure standing toward the back of the room. Strekoza. With dark clothing and an unsettlingly calm presence, Strekoza looked more wraith than person.

“Strekoza, can you handle it?” Anna asked quietly.

Strekoza inclined her head in a silent nod. “Yes,” she said, voice so soft it barely carried across the table. “I can move in and out without drawing notice. As long as there’s a credible reason for Blade to be there, Pincho won’t suspect anything.”

Walker’s eyes flicked from Strekoza back to Anna. “How long can you maintain the charade?”

Strekoza’s dark gaze fixed on Walker. “As long as needed.”

Anna exhaled, then looked at the commander on the screen. “Sir, if we do this, we’re essentially forging ahead without official sanction.”

The commander nodded slowly, exhaustion etched in the lines of his face. “Keep it as low profile as you can. I’ll keep pushing for the green light. If you can stall Pincho, maybe we’ll get that mission approval in time to save Hazard, Leigh, and Blade’s family.”

Skull finally spoke up, his voice quiet but carrying weight. “And if you don’t get that approval?”

The commander’s shoulders sagged. “Then we’ll do what we always do. We’ll improvise, because we don’t leave our people behind.” His voice caught, briefly, recalling Terry’s death. He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a moment to steady himself, and then squared his shoulders. “But I’m banking on them seeing reason. We’ve come too far to watch Pincho destroy more of our own.”

Iceman stepped forward, placing both hands on the table, pale blue eyes sweeping over the team. “Let’s be clear. If Pincho realizes Blade’s missing and that we have him, she’ll know exactly who’s behind it. That means Hazard and Leigh won’t just be relocated. She’ll kill them. Brutally. So, if we do this infiltration, it needs to be airtight. No room for mistakes.”

Breakneck nodded, drumming his fingers restlessly. “Koz will keep them busy, and that will make all the difference.” He gave the Shadowguard a smile. She ruffled his hair and smiled back.

Skull flicked his gaze to Walker, who gave him a small nod in return. He had full confidence in her. They’d done crazier ops before, but this time, this op felt more personal, more desperate.

GQ, still visibly seething, let out a slow breath. “Are we seriously going to sit on our hands until the brass says yes?” he demanded.

“It’s not sitting on our hands,” Iceman said firmly. “We’re sending Strekoza in, and we’re prepping for a strike the moment we get the green light. Understand?” He pinned GQ with a look that brooked no argument. “We’re running out of time, so control that anger and use it to keep you razor-sharp.”

GQ shrugged, but his voice was tight with reluctant acceptance. “Yes, Master Chief.”

The commander rubbed a hand across his brow, the feed crackling as he shifted in his seat. “I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything. But for now—this is the play.”

He stared into the camera, meeting each of their gazes through the screen. “Stay alive and get Hazard and Leigh home.” His tone lowered. “Let’s not lose anyone else to Pincho.”

The screen cut to static, then went dark. For a moment, no one in the briefing room spoke. The gravity of the mission pressed in around them like a vise.

“Well,” Walker said softly, “we’ve got a plan, at least.”

“Yeah,” Breakneck agreed, standing and collecting his notes. “Let’s get on with it.” He looked at Iceman. “

Iceman stepped away from the table, setting his jaw. “Strekoza, you take Blade’s phone. Be ready to move within the hour.”

Strekoza gave a small nod. “Understood. I’ll coordinate with Anna.”

As the team began to disperse, Skull locked eyes with Walker. He saw the determination burning there, mirroring his own, and gave her a short nod. Two days. Maybe less. Every second mattered. And if the brass wanted to worry about optics, let them. Skull was worried about saving lives.

A dark silence settled over the team, determination etched on every face. Outside the briefing room, the wind rattled across the compound as if echoing the simmering outrage and raw resolve inside. Two days left on Pincho’s clock, and every second was a step closer to either saving their teammates or losing everything.

He turned to follow the others, steel settling into his gut. They would make this happen. One way or another, they would get Blade’s family out and rescue Hazard and Leigh before Pincho’s deadline struck midnight.

Walker sat cross-legged on the bed, the soft cotton of the coverlet bunching beneath her knees. A faint glow seeped in from the curtained window, turning Skull’s skin to a mosaic of highlights and shadows.

Freshly showered and feeling the same frustration that lined every hard packed, powerful flexing muscle in Skull’s gorgeous, pacing body, each stride displaying the long sweep of muscle in his thighs. After his shower he’d donned nothing but shorts, leaving the rest of him bare, a feast for her eyes. He had an amazing body, athletic and honed to perfection by all the demands the Navy put on him to be the warrior they needed against their country’s enemies. A Tier 1 warrior who came with elite skills in more than just outside-the-wire operations—he also knew exactly what to do between the sheets. The man had some good hands.

Thank you, Uncle Sam.

She took in his broad shoulders that tapered to a lean waist, not an ounce of fat on him. The shorts he wore hugged his tight ass, showing off his delineated thighs and calves, his big, sure, well-formed feet eating up the floor, back and forth, back and forth. There was a primal aura that radiated off him. He looked like a dark caged predator, impatiently waiting to go on the hunt, needing some outlet in this momentary lull. Her pulse ticked up whenever his gaze cut to her, a lightning flash of intent she wasn’t sure she could withstand.

Underneath that restless energy, she sensed the same frustration roiling in him that she felt coiled beneath her skin. Their rescue mission remained on pause while bureaucrats deliberated. Being benched was like denying them both breath.

There was no mistaking this man for anything other than what he was…a warrior. She took a soft breath. Her warrior, a man with strong impulses and direct action moves that left no doubt what he wanted, and a meltingly protective stance that was so foreign to her. She was used to being alone. She was used to isolation. She wasn’t used to craving touch, or genuineness, or having to resist a temptation that was overwhelming.

She’d claimed him, and he’d claimed her after so much sexy nonsense between them she felt shame for the way she’d acted, like he was nothing but a conquest, and back then, he had been. Who wouldn’t want such a man? Her aggressive pursuit culminated in one of the most intense, arousing, mind-blowing, intimately satisfying encounters of her life. Her edict of fuck him and move on seemed like such a good idea at the time, but she couldn’t stop wanting him. Talk about putting a crimp in her plan.

After what they had shared, her definition of fucking took on so many levels of nuance, her body responding to all that male aggression and power, and he’d done something no one had ever been able to do. He touched her heart…a shiver of fear slipped down her spine, and she wasn’t so sure he hadn’t claimed her heart right along with her body.

They had been on the move almost since they touched down in Bogotá, anguished at the loss of Hazard and Leigh, worried sick about their welfare, their emotions tense and easily rising to the surface, and stretched to the maximum of their endurance while searching for them. This was the first breather they’d had in days.

So, he had to be as exhausted as she felt, and until the powers that be made the tough decision to send them back into Lealtad, they languished on the sidelines waiting for that go ahead.

Watching him move was such an arousing and glorious sight. She’d finally had him, and it wasn’t simple, and it wasn’t easy, and it was going to cost her. Her mind went back to those alleyways, danger surrounding them as they ran Blade into the ground.

“You sent Bones after me.” There was a pensive quality to her voice as she toyed with the frayed end of the coverlet. Bones’s tail started thumping as he sighed softly in his kennel, and she looked toward the now relaxed canine, knowing at Skull’s command, he would turn into that protective, snapping juggernaut in seconds, reminding her that this wasn’t just about two hearts colliding. It was about the entire team.

Skull paused mid-step, turning that intense hawklike, cinnamon-brown gaze on her. Tension rippled through his body, then eased, replaced by something gentler that made her stomach tighten. Even half-dressed and half-feral with frustration, he was the only man she’d ever known who blended lethal competence with a fierce, unexpected protectiveness.

She frowned slightly as she smoothed out the material, her heart contracting at the meaning of what he had done. Of course, he would have backed up any of his teammates, but he chose to unleash his beloved partner to guard her. “That was courageous and forward thinking.” She swallowed, wanting to tell him how much she appreciated it, but the words stuck in her throat, so she switched to a different aspect of the act. “If it wasn’t for him…for you and your team…we’d be back to square one. Trying to chase down a man who would be even harder to find now that he was alerted to our pursuit.”

Her bare shoulders rose and fell with a steadying breath she was trying so hard to maintain. Under normal circumstances, she would have slipped into the protective solitude that came as naturally to her as breathing. But tonight, wrapped in Skull’s presence, her usual defenses felt less necessary and seemed useless against the kind of man she was beginning to realize he was.

“What I don’t get is how he got on the roof.”

Skull smiled, his gaze flicking to the dog. “Bones can climb ladders, he can cross wires, he can breach doors, crawl through air ducks, and freaking fly over gaps normal canines would balk at. He’s fucking superdog.”

That got her to smile. “You’re such an idiot with that dog.”

He chuckled, shrugging.

The muffled city lights outside gave the bedroom a soft, diffused glow. Skull ran a hand through his thick hair as he mulled over the latest development “Yeah, and now we’re cooling our heels, told to stand down while they make a decision about our brother and the woman he loves, a dedicated attorney who fought tooth and nail to bring Alzate to justice. It’s driving us all crazy while we wait for the brass and the Justice Department to make the right decision.”

She reached out her hand. “Come here. Relax for a moment. We might not get a minute to breathe once they do make the right decision.”

Skull ran his hands through his wet, tousled hair again, which normally was combed off his face, but he was agitated, distracted. The messy hair was sexy as hell as the inky strands fell against his sharp cheekbones, curled around the back of his ear, dark as sin.

“Blade isn’t going anywhere, and his ultimatum was clear. He won’t talk unless his wife and family are whisked away to safety,” she murmured. “There’s nothing for us to do right now. Come here,” she whispered, tilting her head. “That call will be here soon enough.” The anxiety of the day weighed on them both, yet here, for this quiet moment, she wanted only to focus on him.

She sensed the aggravation in his exhale, but it didn’t stop him from crossing the room and sinking onto the edge of the bed. Warmth radiated from him, reminding her how he’d been there for her through the madness of the past few days, and how that comfort scared her as much as it steadied her. He looked like an untamable rebel, that rough, dark stubble coating his jaw accentuating the label, but he was exactly the opposite, a committed, caring son, a dedicated, lethal warrior, and before she met him, the kind of man she doubted existed…genuine, honest, direct, and strong enough to put his own heart on the line.

She let her gaze wander. His strong, muscled arms, so capable of lifting her when the world felt heavy, relaxed at his sides. A fleeting memory of the two of them tangled together flashed through her mind. Even after giving into desire earlier that evening, she felt a pull to be with him again. But she also felt the tension that instilled fear in her. She’d trained herself to keep her feelings locked away and her emotions on a very tight leash. Intimacy was always a risk. And yet…she wanted him close.

He turned, eyes landing gently on her. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, swallowing hard before she spoke. “I’m… thinking about everything,” she admitted. Her voice sounded small in the quiet. “What’s ahead for us, for this mission.”

His expression softened, and he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. A callus brushed her skin, rough proof of everything he’d been through for his country. “What’s on your mind?” he asked simply, his voice as solid as the rest of him.

She turned her face into his palm, letting the tension unspool from her muscles. She shifted their conversation from the mission concerns to personal territory, first touching on the elusive question of how they might fit into each other’s futures.

“I’m not going to lie to you about how you affect me. That would be stupid and hurtful, and insulting to you, and you’d see right through it.”

He smiled softly and her heart lurched. How could he want her? She was too empty inside for a man like him. A man with a wealth of love and family showing in everything he did. She didn’t know if she had it in her to consider more than this mission.

She confided in him about how her job kept her in the shadows. “It’s…safe there,” she admitted with a soft sigh. “Easier than risking heartbreak.”

Skull reached for her hand. She tightened her fingers around his for a moment, taking comfort in the gentle pressure. Something about how he looked at her made her feel understood without her needing to rely on any persona, especially her femme fatale one that she’d adopted like armor against his appeal, and even that wonder mingled with an incessant fear of being exposed.

He cleared his throat, hesitation in his voice. “The op…it’s got me thinking about my father again. I keep wondering if I’d be a different man if he hadn’t told me when I was a boy to be a rock. Wonder if my life would’ve turned out differently.” He sighed and drew her closer. “Everything we do in life shapes us into who we are now. Who we will become—” He shrugged. “That’s up to us.”

She pressed closer to him, draping an arm around his bare torso. Her heart ached with empathy. Even if her family life had been so different, she understood the pang of longing for something she couldn’t have. “I’m not close to my family,” she confessed, almost surprising herself with her own openness. Usually, she hid behind a stoic, analytical face, operating from intellect more than heart. But now, here, with Skull, the words flowed. “My mother was…manipulative. I was more like a showpiece she wanted to parade around to snag a husband who could enhance our wealth and elevate us just one more rung higher on the social ladder. As if that mattered at all. An American princess trapped in my mother’s ideal of status. The CIA became my escape, somewhere I could reinvent myself.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Reinvent yourself how?”

She let out a short laugh that held little mirth. “Any way they needed me. A chameleon. I’ve changed my hair, my accent, my entire personality for this job. I gave them everything, you know?” A hint of self-deprecation crept into her tone. “Sometimes, I’m not sure who I really am anymore. Does that…does that make me a soulless assassin or Uncle Sam’s thrall? Or just pathetically hollow?”

Skull reached for her chin and gently lifted it, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re a tough, effective operative who overcomes any obstacle. You protect people even if you don’t get the credit. That’s loyalty, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. I know we have a job to do, but we don’t have to let it define us. That’s what we have in common, Walker.”

Gently, he leaned in, pressing a light, comforting kiss to her forehead. She let her eyes flutter shut, allowing the rush of affection to steady her swirling thoughts. Even the mere brush of his lips against her skin reminded her how profoundly he affected her, how safe she felt with him.

She squeezed his hand again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For seeing me as more than just a weapon.”

His lips curved into a reassuring smile. “I see you for who you are, even if you feel you’ve had to camouflage yourself. You can talk to me anytime about anything.”

For a moment, they both sat in the hush, letting reality sink in. There were bigger battles ahead, ones that involved saving Blade’s family and piecing together intelligence for the brass. But for these few seconds, the taste of normalcy, of something tender and real was enough to fortify them.

“I want to be sure,” she said quietly, her voice catching, “of who I am before I lose myself in another identity. Before I lose myself in you.” Her heart thumped, an unguarded moment in the middle of her usually well-fortified existence. “This mission, we’re both in danger of losing ourselves to it.”

Skull’s hand cupped her cheek gently, thumb brushing away the single tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Take your time,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She knew him well enough to trust whatever he said, and she hoped, in the end, he wouldn’t get his heart broken. He drew her into the circle of his arms, and she nestled her head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. She knew the coming days would demand everything—her stamina, her mind, her skill. But here, in the warmth of Skull’s presence, she felt a flicker of hope.

Perhaps the CIA had shaped her, but she wasn’t quite lost. Not as long as there was someone who recognized the real person beneath the disguises and wanted her to stay just as she was.