Chapter 36
Vera's POV
Her body was still trembling.
Not violently—just soft aftershocks that rolled through her every time she breathed. She was draped over me now, her bare skin flush against mine, cheek resting against my collarbone, one arm curled possessively around my waist like she wasn’t ready to let go.
And I didn’t want her to.
My hands moved slowly, one tracing the length of her spine, the other tangled loosely in her hair. I felt her heart pounding against my ribs, still echoing the rhythm she’d fallen apart in just minutes ago.
I’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Not in blood.
Not in power.
Not in victory.
Her body still humming against mine, warm and spent, trusting me with all of it—that wrecked me more than anything else ever could.
I closed my eyes, resting my chin lightly against the top of her head.
She wasn’t speaking. Neither was I.
But everything we weren’t saying sat between us—thick, quiet, and real.
She breathed in deep against my skin, her lips brushing my chest. I felt her settle into me like she belonged there.
And maybe she did.
Because I didn’t feel like a weapon with her.
I didn’t feel like a monster.
I just felt… human.
I never thought I’d get this. Never thought I’d want this.
But right now?
With her skin on mine, her scent in my lungs, her fingers still tracing absent circles across my stomach—
I didn’t want the world.
I just wanted her.
Her breathing slowed.
Bit by bit, the tension melted from her body. Her legs tangled with mine, her arm slackening where it had been tight around my waist. Her hand stayed against my skin, though—like even in sleep, she needed that connection.
I kept my eyes on her, watching her lashes flutter slightly before finally stilling.
She didn’t say anything.
She didn’t have to.
Her sleep was the answer.
She trusted me.
That realization did something I wasn’t ready for. It settled heavy in my chest—not suffocating, just... unfamiliar. Foreign in a way that made me feel everything I’d buried for years.
Her breath brushed against my collarbone, steady now. Her mouth barely parted, her cheek warm against my skin. I could feel the shift when her body went limp with sleep, completely surrendered.
She didn’t fall asleep next to me.
She fell asleep on me.
That meant something.
I tightened my arm around her, slow, careful not to wake her, and stared up at the ceiling—at the cracks, the shadows, the stillness I’d never noticed until she was lying on top of me.
I could still feel her pulse where our chests touched.
And mine?
It finally slowed to match hers.
Claire's POV
I woke to warmth.
Not just heat—but weight, skin, breath. The kind of warmth that wraps around you and makes you forget for a second where you are, what the world outside the sheets looks like.
It took a moment before I remembered.
Vera.
Her arm was slung low around my waist, her leg tangled with mine, chest rising and falling against my back in a rhythm I wanted to bottle. She was still asleep—something I never thought I’d see. Her body, always tense, always ready to move, was now relaxed and loose against mine.
She looked… soft.
Not in the fragile way.
In the real way.
I turned slowly in her arms, careful not to wake her.
Her face was turned toward me, strands of dark hair falling over her cheek.
Her lashes were long, and her lips slightly parted, like she was still chasing the quiet.
I studied every line—every scar, every little shadow on her skin.
She wore her life on her body like armor, and somehow, I was beneath it now.
My fingers moved before I could stop them, brushing lightly over her jaw, then down her collarbone. She didn’t stir. Just breathed. Steady. Trusting.
I swallowed hard.
What the hell are we doing?
But I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to overthink it. Not yet.
I leaned in slowly, pressing the softest kiss to her shoulder. She exhaled, a small shift in her breathing—just enough to let me know she felt it.
Her eyes fluttered open.
For a second, she just looked at me. No walls. No smirk. No command behind her eyes.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hey,” she murmured back, voice still rough with sleep.
Silence settled again—but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the kind of silence you could live in.
I smiled faintly and tucked my face back into the space beneath her chin.
And she pulled me closer.
No words.
Just arms around me.
And I realized—I’d never felt safer than in the arms of someone who’d killed for me.
Claire's POV
I stayed there a while, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her fingers idly tracing along my back. It should’ve felt like a win—like I’d conquered something impossible.
Instead, it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if I was going to fall or be pushed.
My stomach twisted.
Because what if this was the part where she slipped away?
Where she quietly detached, gave me one last kiss on the shoulder, and disappeared into her world of guns, smoke, and silence—like this never happened?
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. Her eyes met mine, still soft, still open. But I knew how fast she could shut down. I’d seen it.
“So…” I said, tone light, too light. “Is this where you usually disappear before breakfast? Or do I get coffee first before you pretend last night was a tactical error?”
Her brow lifted just a bit, like she wasn’t sure if I was joking or calling her out.
I smiled through the ache in my chest. “I mean, not that I mind being your emotional vulnerability experiment. I just like to know the terms up front.”
She didn’t respond right away. Her hand slid up my back, settling between my shoulder blades, grounding me.
“You think I’m running?” she asked, her voice low, unreadable.
I shrugged, still smiling. “Not yet. But give it time. You’re probably already building an exit strategy in your head.”
Her grip on me tightened.
And that silence?
It wasn’t just silence anymore.
It was choice.
She was either going to prove me wrong—or prove me right.
The silence stretched just a little too long.
Long enough for the tightness in my chest to crawl higher, coil around my throat like regret. I should’ve shut up. Should’ve just let the moment stay soft. But that wasn’t me. I didn’t know how to sit still in something good without poking at it to see if it would break.
And Vera?
She broke people for a living.
So yeah. I expected her to pull away. Expected her to go cold. Expected the shift in her eyes, the one I’d seen a dozen times before when she decided a person was no longer worth her time.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, her fingers slipped into my hair, curling at the back of my neck, holding me still as her eyes pinned mine.
“I’m not running,” she said finally, voice low and steady. “Not from you.”
I blinked, thrown off balance. “That sounded dangerously close to a real answer.”
She smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You want more?”
“Maybe,” I said, trying to sound playful. It came out quiet.
She shifted onto her side, facing me fully now, her hand still at the back of my neck, thumb brushing gently over my skin. Her gaze didn’t waver.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “I’ve never done it. Not like this. I don’t wake up next to people. I don’t… stay.”
I swallowed.
“But I didn’t want to move,” she added, quieter this time. “Not when you fell asleep on me.”
That hit harder than it should’ve. I looked away, blinking quickly. My throat felt tight.
“Well,” I said, voice rough. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me in bed.”
She rolled her eyes, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. “You’re exhausting.”
“You like it.”
“Unfortunately.”
She leaned in and kissed my forehead.
Just that.
Soft. Final.
The kiss on my forehead hit harder than anything else she’d done.
Not the sex.
Not the way she moaned my name.
Not even the way she held me afterward.
That kiss was something else.
It was gentle. Intentional. And it left me completely defenseless.
I didn’t move. Didn’t joke. Didn’t hide.
I just lay there, eyes open, staring past her shoulder like I was afraid if I blinked, it would all disappear. Because it didn’t feel like Vera. It felt like something she didn’t know how to give but gave anyway.
My chest ached.
Not from fear. Not from doubt.
From wanting.
Wanting this to be real. Wanting her to mean it. Wanting her to wake up next to me again and again and not look at me like a mistake she let happen in the dark.
I’d walked into her world not expecting to stay. Just chasing answers, maybe a thrill. And now?
Now I wanted to stay so badly it hurt.
I curled a little closer, tucking my face into the space between her neck and shoulder. Her arm moved instinctively, wrapping around me tighter.
She didn’t say anything.
And neither did I.
Because for the first time, I didn’t need to fill the silence.
I just needed to feel her body against mine.
To believe, for one more second, that this—whatever this was—wasn’t temporary.
And if it was?
I’d still take it. All of it.
Because there was no going back now.
Vera's POV
I stared at the ceiling, one hand tracing the bare skin of her back in lazy, absent motions, like maybe if I touched her gently enough, she wouldn’t vanish when the sun came up.
She hadn’t said a word since I kissed her forehead.
That scared me more than if she’d cracked a joke or thrown a sarcastic jab to break the tension. Silence from Claire meant something was sitting heavy in her chest—and for once, I didn’t want to push her for it.
Because I could feel it too.
This thing between us—it was no longer a game, no longer curiosity or lust. It was something deeper, something neither of us knew how to name without breaking it.
She trusted me.
Even after everything.
Even after the bullets, the blood, the threats. She still climbed into my arms like I was safety.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
Because if I lost her now… I didn’t know who I’d become again.
I closed my eyes, pressed my lips against the top of her head, and held her tighter.
For once, I wasn’t thinking about who was coming for me.
I was thinking about who I’d be if she ever stopped choosing to stay.
She shifted a little in her sleep, just enough to press closer. Her thigh slid between mine, bare skin against bare skin, and her breath hitched—but she didn’t wake. She just sighed and settled again, her lips brushing lightly against my throat as she breathed.
I felt it everywhere.
This closeness.
This fragility.
It was a new kind of war for me. One I wasn’t trained for. There were no guns, no blades, no backup plans. Just the soft weight of her body and the terrifying truth that I didn’t want her to go.
I wasn’t built for this. Not for comfort. Not for quiet. Every instinct in me screamed to move, to make distance before I got used to this—before I forgot how to be without her.
But I didn’t move.
I stared at the wall, jaw tight, heart pounding in a rhythm that wasn’t fear—but something worse.
Hope.
And it was Claire who did that to me. Her presence. Her stubbornness. The way she pulled me apart piece by piece without even realizing it. Or maybe she did realize—and kept going anyway.
I ran my hand gently down her back, fingers tracing the dip of her spine. Her skin was soft, still warm from the heat we’d built between us. I wanted to memorize every part of her, like if I held it long enough, it wouldn’t be taken from me.
But I knew better.
People like me didn’t get to keep things like her.
And still—I held her tighter, pressing my lips to her hair again, whispering a truth I knew she wouldn’t hear.
“I don’t know how to let you stay. But I don’t know how to let you go either.”