Chapter 51 Carter
Carter
Hours bled into the night, the glow from the table lamps throwing long shadows across the cabin walls. River and Gideon worked the phone, their quiet curses telling me how stubborn the encryption was. Cyclone patrolled outside, the crunch of his boots on the gravel steady and predictable.
And me? I stayed where I could see down the hall.
Every time the floor creaked or the faint shift of a bedspring reached my ears, my chest eased. Harper was still there. Breathing. Alive. That was all that mattered.
“Almost got it,” Gideon muttered, fingers flying across his keyboard. “Whoever set this up wasn’t playing around.”
“Which means it’s worth the trouble,” River said. He glanced at me, his eyes sharp. “When we crack it, we move. Fast.”
I gave a short nod, but my focus kept drifting. My rifle sat across my knees, safety off, ready. I hadn’t been able to shake the image of that stairwell—shadows rushing, Harper’s voice crying my name. It replayed over and over, a loop I couldn’t kill.
The bedroom door creaked, soft. My head snapped up.
Harper stood there in the doorway, her hair tangled from sleep, one of my flannels hanging loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were shadowed, but steady as they found me.
“You should be resting,” I said, my voice lower than I intended.
She crossed the room slowly, barefoot, until she was close enough to touch. “So should you.”
For a moment, the war on the table behind me didn’t exist. It was just her—the woman every enemy seemed to want to break, and the only reason I’d never stop fighting.
River cleared his throat, not unkindly. “We’ll give you two a minute.”
He and Gideon disappeared onto the porch, leaving us in the quiet hum of electronics.
Harper’s hand brushed mine, soft, grounding. “Don’t shut me out, Carter. I can see it in your face—you’ve already decided what comes next, and you’re planning to keep me in the dark.”
I swallowed hard, every instinct screaming to keep her shielded. But her eyes held me, fierce and unyielding.
“I won’t let them touch you again,” I said finally, my voice raw. “But you’re right. This isn’t just mine to carry anymore. You deserve to know what we’re walking into.”
Her breath caught, and for the first time since the warehouse, I saw something in her gaze that made me believe maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was ready to stand with me.
And that terrified me more than any gunfire.