Page 39

The Cessna dropped through a violent pocket of air, jolting Leo’s spine against the seat. After the long-haul jet from England, this last leg in a glorified sardine can felt like penance.

Kat had escaped the UK without a ripple. Brock had handled the exit—new identity, clean passport, and a digital shadow scrubbed clean enough to fool Interpol. She sat beside him now, tension evident in the set of her shoulders as his team faced one another in two tight rows.

Her brother, Gage, was silent in the corner, flicking through local intel on his combat tablet. Still officially grumpy, but committed. For now, a truce.

Across from him, Zak had nodded off mid-turbulence, head tipped back. Griff sat beside Zak, checking the loadout schematic, boots braced wide.

Fox sat nearby, cleaning his modified SIG. Across from him, Abe worked a protein bar one-handed while scrolling through weather data on his tablet.

Eli hunched over his laptop, the blue glow casting shadows across his frown.

“Leo.” Eli turned the screen. “Satellite pass from thirty minutes ago. They’ve doubled security since yesterday.”

“They know we’re coming?” A knot twisted at the base of Leo’s skull.

Eli’s head clipped once. “They’ve reinforced our primary insertion point.”

“Alternatives?” Leo worked a hand over the back of his neck.

“Southern approach, through the reef break.” Eli turned the device back toward himself. “Minimal patrols because it’s technically suicidal.”

Leo exhaled. “We adjust. Southern approach, full stealth.”

Fox grinned without looking up from his SIG. “Almost dying on the landing? Might be just what we need. Gets the nerves out early.”

Griff lifted a brow. “Admit it—you’d be disappointed if we didn’t almost die on arrival.”

“Fact.” Fox’s grin widened. “Where’s the fun otherwise?”

Abe glanced up from his tablet. “Twelve hours until the tech goes live. After that, it’s out there for good.”

Fox’s smile faded. “Then it’s a good thing we’re fast.”

His team.

They were the only ones he trusted when everything went to hell.

Outside, purple-black storm clouds crowded the windows, their bellies swollen with rain that hammered the fuselage. Lightning flashed, illuminating the churning sea below in stark, violent bursts.

Somewhere beneath the angry sky lay their target—a private island fortress housing the core of Project Nightshade.

Another downdraft slammed them. “Jesus,” he muttered. “I’m so done with all the fucking rain. When this is over, I’m lying on a beach until my skin peels.”

Next to him, Kat’s knuckles were white against her safety harness. Her jaw was set in a rigid line, her breath strained.

He leaned in, voice low by her ear. “I’m picturing you on that beach. Tiny bikini. The kind I’ll take my time stripping off you. With my mouth.”

She looked at him then, cheeks flushed despite the turbulence. “If that’s a distraction tactic… it’s working. A little.”

“First time in a puddle jumper?”

“Not my first.” Her eyes locked forward again. “Just my least favorite.”

He covered her hand with his. “Almost there. Just a few more minutes.”

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Fox balled up a granola bar wrapper and lobbed it across the cabin. It bounced off Zak’s forehead.

Zak snapped awake, instantly alert. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was meditating.”

“Sure.” Fox eye rolled. “And I moonlight as the Queen of Sheba.”

The plane banked left, angling toward the strip. The El Nido airstrip was little more than a slab of tarmac carved from the jungle. But it was their best access point.

Leo raised his voice above the engines. “Everyone clear on the plan?”

Abe answered first. “Boat insertion, 0200. Disable perimeter defenses and internal security.”

“Land breach to the compound.” Fox nodded.“Kill the array. Pull what intel we can before the whole thing lights up.”

Zak’s elbows were on his knees, his fingers laced together. “What about survivors?”

“Any civilians, we extract. Hostiles…” Leo didn’t have to finish.

After the Royal London, they all knew what hesitation cost.

The wheels hit the tarmac with a hard bounce and a squeal of rubber.

The Cessna skidded, then straightened. Rain hammered the fuselage as they taxied toward a row of squat buildings swallowed in mist.

Leo touched Kat’s knee. “You good?”

She didn’t look away from the window. “Eldridge.”

“What about her?”

“She’s involved, but her endgame doesn’t track.” Her brow furrowed. “I think she might be here.”

“Here? You sure?”

“Professional hunch.” She finally turned to him, eyes clear and sharp despite the fatigue that had marked them both for days. “It’s the only thing that still makes sense.”

A jolt rocked the cabin again.

He nodded once. “If she’s here, we deal with it. Until then, we stick to the plan.”

The engines wound down.

Leo unbuckled and stood. “Let’s move.”

One by one, they descended the folding stairs into Palawan’s thick air. The rain had eased to a drizzle, but the humidity was dense enough to drink, saturated with the scent of wet earth and overripe vegetation. Heat wrapped around them like a damp wool blanket.

“Loving this tropical soup.” Fox spread his arms wide and spun in a slow circle. “Can we do this more often?” He smacked suddenly at the back of his neck. “Dammit!”

“Better than rainy England.” Abe stepped onto the tarmac and glanced at the bruised sky.

“Yeah, well, England’s bugs don’t try to drain your soul.” Fox studied the mosquito on his palm like it had insulted his family.

Abe shrugged, grinning. “Fair point.”

Leo lingered at the rear, watching his team work.

Gear unloaded. Comms checked, quiet murmurs. The familiar rhythm of an op falling into place. Weapons, vests, focus—everything locking into place like a well-oiled machine.

But his attention kept returning to Kat.

She stood apart from the others, arms folded, gaze fixed on the mountains where storm clouds still gathered. The woman who had upended his carefully ordered life.

The woman he would follow into fire.

The truth he’d shoved down since London—hell, maybe since Oslo—hit home.

He loved her. Not just want or trust—love.

He’d loved her since Oslo.

But he hadn’t let himself admit it.

Not until now.

Not until this moment, standing in the rain, watching her hold the storm at bay with nothing but willpower and grit.

He’d spent years locking away emotion, believing attachment made him weak and that he didn’t deserve love. But now, looking at her silhouetted against the storm-lit sky, he understood something with absolute, bone-deep certainty.

She wasn’t walking away from this without him. And he’d never let her try.

Since Sangin, when everything human in him had shut down, the hollow void had held fast—until her. Her laugh. Her fire. All of her.

He had paid for his failures.

And maybe the best way to honor the dead was through love, not loneliness

“Bychkov.” Landon’s voice split the air, yanking Leo from his thoughts.

Great. Protective-brother speech—volume nine.

Leo swallowed a sigh as Landon’s boots crunched up behind him, fingers biting into his shoulder—just shy of bone-grinding.

“Quick reality check.” Landon’s tone was airy, but his stare could strip paint. “If my sister comes back with even a bruise, you and I are going to have a very short, very one-sided conversation.”

Leo kept his eyes on Kat. “Bruises won’t even register on her radar.”

“Good. Then she won’t mind you bleeding in her place.” Landon’s grip grew painful. “I’m not joking,” he murmured. “I bury threats—it’s a family thing.”

Thunder boomed off the peaks.

Landon’s jaw flexed. “She presents as unbreakable. But I’ve seen what it costs her to pretend. And what it looks like when she finally can’t. So no screw ups. I mean it.”

Leo shifted, prying Landon’s fingers free. Knuckles popped. “Anyone who comes for her goes through me.”

A beat passed—two wolves measuring teeth—before Landon’s mouth hit a thin smile. “Fair warning delivered.” He tapped Leo’s chest once and walked off, rain plastering his hair to his skull.

Well. That was warm and fuzzy.

Breathing in the ozone-charged air, Leo joined Kat and ran his thumb across the soft skin at the back of her neck. “You good? Transport’s ready.”

She turned, the storm reflected in her eyes. “Yeah. Just—getting my head right.” Her gaze swept the ridge line—the battlefield calculus that had kept them both breathing this long.

Raindrops caught in her dark hair like flecks of silver. The urge to pull her close was a steady thrum beneath his ribs. But not yet.

Lightning strobed.

There would be time—after.

He would make damn sure of it.