Chapter 12 Harper
Harper
Ishould’ve looked away.
Should’ve turned back into the hall, let security and Carter finish what they started. But I couldn’t.
From the top of the stairwell, I watched him take that man apart—every move sharp, controlled, like his body was built for this exact kind of violence. Not chaos. Precision.
And God help me, it did something to me.
The scalpel clattered against the concrete, the man’s curses bouncing off the walls, but all I could hear was the low growl in Carter’s voice when he snarled, You threaten her—any of them—and you don’t walk out breathing.
My breath caught. He hadn’t just meant the patients. He’d meant me.
Heat flushed through me, a tangled and confusing sensation. Fear, yes—because these men weren’t stopping, because now I was in their sights. But underneath that, thrumming like a second pulse, was something I hadn’t expected.
Want.
It wasn’t just that Carter had fought for me. It was how he did it—with lethal grace, with total control, with the kind of intensity that made me feel seen and protected in a way I didn’t know I craved.
When his eyes found mine at the top of the stairs, the rest of the world blurred out. His chest heaved, sweat darkening his shirt, jaw clenched with fury still simmering under the surface. But his gaze softened when it landed on me, as if I were the tether pulling him back from the edge.
My knees nearly gave.
I pressed a hand to the doorframe, trying to steady myself, but the truth burned too bright to ignore.
Yes, the danger terrified me. But Carter Robinson, unleashed Navy SEAL and all?
He terrified me in a completely different way.
Because some part of me—some reckless, undeniable part—wanted more.