Chapter 87
-Hailey-
I leaned against the doorframe of the weapons room, just watching him.
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Each movement was smooth. Practiced. A ritual he’d performed a hundred times, before a hundred different hells. It would’ve been sexy as hell if it wasn’t so… terrifying.
This was the part they never really showed you in the movies the violence.
—
the quiet, domestic dread that came before
Logan stood at the long metal table. Fluorescent light glared on the variety of lethal toys laid out in front of him. He picked up his Glock, ejected the magazine, checked it, and slammed it back home.
He didn’t look at me. It was almost like he was meditating.
This was how he prepared to go to war.
Viktor’s men had delivered the schedule. Ledger had worked his magic and found old blueprints of the Burnsville warehouse.
Despite his initial protest, I’d finally talked Logan into telling me everything. The plan was simple, brutal… and probably suicidal. They’d hit the shift change, get the most out of the distraction.
In and out.
I knew better than to argue now. There would be no point. My choice to stay had led directly to this moment.
Me, watching the man I loved turn himself into a death machine. All to protect me and the cage I refused to leave.
A part of me… the old me, wanted to scream. Throw myself between him and the door. But that girl was gone, suffocated by the dark reality of this life.
This was the price of admission. You didn’t get the man without the danger.
You didn’t get the love without the fear.
He reached for a shotgun, taking the weight off his bad leg at the same time. He was hurting, pushing through it, using the pain as fuel. I could see the tension in the set of his jaw, the grim determination that had replaced the frantic energy from earlier.
This was a calmer, deadlier version of him.
He finally glanced over at me, his green eyes catching the light. They weren’t soft. They were the eyes of the man who kidnapped people and tortured them. The man who buried friends and left enemies tied to poles.
“You good, Ace?” Even his voice wasn’t soft.
Chapter 87
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“Peachy,” I said, my own voice surprisingly steady. “Just… enjoying the view.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips, then it was gone. He knew what I meant. It wasn’t the guns. It was him. The terrible, awful beauty of his dexterity.
He tucked the Glocks into his shoulder holster, then shrugged into his cut.
He stuffed extra magazines into his pockets, and the weight pulled at the fabric of his jeans. He was a collection of hard edges and worn leather. A storm in human form.
He holstered the shotgun on his back, then turned to face me. The transformation was complete.
He looked like he was made for this. He probably was.
He didn’t say anything else. He just looked at me, and I looked back. The silence said it all. The fear, the hope, the desperation.
He gave a single, short nod. A promise and an apology all in one. Then he moved past me, his fingers reaching out to brush my hip on his way through. The simple touch sent goosebumps up my arms.
I followed him back to the main room, and my eyes instantly landed on the rest of his team Link, Mason, and Dex- each paired off with their wives and girlfriends.
―
–
River, Monty,
Seeing my sister in River’s arms sent warmth through my chest and a stabbing pain through my gut. I was so stupid for dragging her into this mess. But I had to admit, they were cute together.
They were all geared up, cuts on, faces set in stoic masks. Dex kissed Becky and adjusted his heavy backpack. Full of explosives, I knew.
Mason ruffled Kayla’s hair, then checked the action on his rifle.
They didn’t joke. They didn’t pace. They just stood there. Coiled springs of violent intent. It was in their posture… in the casual way they wore their arsenal.
Logan nodded to them, then turned around to face me. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. His fingers smelled like gun oil.
He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, his green eyes searching mine, and then his mouth was on mine.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claim. A promise. A transfer of the fear, the fury, the clawing need to make it back to this. To me.
I kissed him back just as hard, my fingers digging into the leather of his cut. I poured every ounce of my fear, love, and stupid, stubborn hope into that kiss.
When we finally broke apart, I was breathing ragged,
“Come back,” I whispered, my forehead pressed against his. “Just… come back. No new holes. Promise me.”
He pulled back a little, kissed my forehead, and his voice was a raw whisper meant only for me. “I’ll always come back to you, Ace.”
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Chapter 87
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He gave me one last searing look, then turned away. The warrior was back. He joined the others, and the six of them moved as one unit toward the door.
The prospect by the door hauled it open, and the cold night air rushed in. Then it was gone, and the door was deadbolted behind them.
The deep–throated rumble of their bikes vibrated through the soles of my boots and into my bones as I ran to the window to watch.
Logan
didn’t look back. He twisted the throttle and his bike snarled. Then they were rolling out of the lot in a tight formation, red taillights cutting through the darkness. I stood there and watched until the sound faded into a distant purr and then into nothing.
The silence they left behind was the loudest thing I’d ever heard.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
