28. Mira
twenty-eight
Mira
" Y ou're bleeding through the bandage."
I press fresh gauze against Jax's shoulder while Remy unpacks his medical kit across the safe house kitchen island. Eight bodies. Ninety seconds. He watched every single kill.
My hands shake against the white fabric as I apply pressure to his wound. The adrenaline crash hits hard, but it's not from the warehouse fight. It's from the way he's been looking at me since we extracted—like I'm something miraculous instead of monstrous.
"Sit still." Remy nudges Jax toward better lighting, spreading supplies across the granite surface. "Bullet went clean through, but there's muscle damage."
Pain medication is starting to take effect. I can tell by the way Jax's usual inability to sit still is mellowing, though his fingers still tap nervous rhythms against his thigh.
"Pretty lady's totally hovering." His words come out slower, unfiltered. A dopey grin spreads across his face as he tracks my movement, but his free hand fidgets with the edge of the gauze. "That's new territory for us."
Heat floods my cheeks. The endearment should annoy me, but coming from his honest assessment, it sends warmth spiraling through my chest.
I'm not hovering. I move to check the tactical displays, then immediately drift back to his side like I'm tethered.
"You definitely are." Remy's tone stays professional as he cleans the wounds, but his lips twitch with amusement. "Step back. Let me work."
But I can't move away from Jax's warmth. Can't stop watching for signs of delayed revulsion, waiting for the moment reality crashes through whatever protective shock is keeping him from running.
"Hey." Jax catches my hand with his uninjured one, intertwining our fingers. His thumb traces across my knuckles while Remy works. "You saved my life back there."
The wonder in his voice cracks something open inside me.
"You moved like death was an art form or something." He searches for words, verbal filters stripped away. "Probably shouldn't be saying that out loud, but here we are."
Death as art. Not butchery. Not mindless violence.
"Most people would be horrified by what they saw."
"Most people are total idiots." His focus sharpens on my face despite the drugs. "You didn't even hesitate when they had me cornered. Didn't think twice about tearing through them to get to me."
Remy's hands pause, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline before he continues working.
"That level of precision under pressure was like, the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed. Hot as fuck too."
Hot as fuck. Heat floods through me so fast it's almost dizzying. No one has ever found my violence arousing. But Jax is staring at me like my lethality turns him on.
"I should terrify you."
"You totally do." His thumb continues its slow path across my knuckles. "But like, in all the best possible ways."
The secure comm system crackles to life. Vanessa's worried voice fills the kitchen space.
"Frost? You better be breathing over there."
Asher's dry response comes from his position monitoring the perimeter. "Still vertical, Echo. Stop worrying."
"I'll worry as much as I want to worry." Her retort carries typical manic energy. "Did everyone make it back in one piece?"
Remy catches my eye over Jax's shoulder, that knowing smirk growing. Like he's witnessed something significant between us that he finds entertaining.
"Package secured," Cole's voice carries through the comm with tactical precision. "Minor injuries only."
"Define minor," Vanessa demands immediately.
"Through-and-through shoulder wound. Clean entry and exit, missed the major arteries." Remy applies antibiotic ointment. "Though our patient seems more interested in flirting with his girlfriend than staying still."
Girlfriend. Is that what I am now?
Jax's good hand finds mine again, fingers intertwining in full view of everyone. Public claim in front of our found family.
"You comfortable with that description?" His question carries weight beyond the simple words.
I stare at our joined hands. At Remy's knowing expression. At the team moving around us like this moment has significance they're pretending not to notice.
He watched me kill eight men and called it beautiful. Claimed me in front of everyone who matters.
"I should terrify you," I repeat, testing the words against his unwavering gaze.
"Terror and attraction aren't mutually exclusive." His thumb traces the sensitive skin between my fingers. "Especially when the terror comes from knowing you'd burn down the whole world to protect me."
I would. The realization hits with crystal clarity.
"Mission debrief in ten," Cole announces, moving through the kitchen toward the main briefing area. "Intelligence needs immediate analysis."
The team disperses toward their stations, but Jax doesn't release my hand. If anything, his grip tightens as Remy finishes the bandaging.
"There." Remy packs up his supplies efficiently. "Keep the arm immobilized for forty-eight hours minimum. No heavy lifting, no sudden movements."
"Define heavy lifting," Jax asks, his grin turning slightly wicked.
"Nothing that involves your girlfriend's unique skill set." Remy's dry response makes heat flood my face.
Girlfriend. The word settles into place with surprising comfort.
I help Jax to his feet, hyperaware of every point of contact between us. His skin burns against mine, and when he stumbles slightly from the medication, catching himself against my shoulder, the brief press of his body makes my breath catch.
The main briefing room hums with post-mission activity. Cole coordinates extraction routes while Asher monitors perimeter scans. Damian emerges from the weapons cache, checking inventory. Xander adjusts equipment settings between tactical displays.
Normal operational protocol. Nothing about tonight feels normal.
The displays pulse with intelligence from our warehouse raid. Financial flowcharts, shipping routes, transport schedules. Data that makes my stomach churn with recognition while exciting my analytical mind.
"Network spans twelve countries." I move toward the main display, seeking familiar analysis comfort.
Jax follows, positioning close enough that his arm brushes mine when I point to connections mapped across continents.
"These shipping manifests match operational patterns I tracked through Alexei's European network three years ago. "
The casual contact sends electricity through me, but I force myself to focus.
Cole studies the financial structures, processing implications while adjusting display angles. "Your insight is connecting dots we've been missing for months. These aren't random criminal enterprises—they're coordinated cells."
My chest tightens with unexpected pride. Professional validation from someone whose judgment I've learned to value.
They're listening. Actually listening to my assessment instead of just using my access.
Kade's voice comes through the secure video link from San Francisco, his command presence filling the room despite the distance.
"Your tactical assessment just connected three separate ongoing investigations.
We want you as permanent tactical consultant.
This partnership extends beyond your personal mission. "
Partnership. They actually mean it.
"The transport routes follow racing circuits precisely.
" I trace the shipping lanes on the display, aware of Jax tracking my movement with drug-softened attention.
"Gideon wasn't just providing cover—he was providing comprehensive logistics.
Every major race weekend, containers move through these specific ports. "
Remy moves from his medical station to examine the data over my shoulder, whistling low. "Seasonal trafficking synchronized with legitimate sporting events. Brilliant operational cover."
"And completely fucked up," Xander adds, his voice rumbling with controlled violence as he checks weapon diagnostics.
Asher's sharp eyes track connections between data points from his monitoring position. His rare contribution carries weight when it comes. "These financial transfers are funding more than trafficking operations. Weapons procurement, narcotics distribution, information brokering."
"Alexei built a criminal empire," I say, the words bitter on my tongue while I pull up additional files. "Gideon was just one operational node. There are others like him providing similar services in every major city."
Cole steps closer, including me fully in the strategic discussion rather than treating me as just another asset. "Your analytical capabilities complement our operational expertise. We've been fighting symptoms while you understand the disease."
From the video link, Kade's approval carries command authority. "We want you as permanent tactical consultant. This partnership extends beyond your personal mission parameters."
Partnership. They actually mean it.
Jax moves behind my chair, his presence warm and protective. When I glance back, his eyes burn with pride despite the medication. Not just desire—genuine admiration for my capabilities.
"There's more." I pull up another file, fingers steady despite the emotional impact of their acceptance.
"Gideon mentioned high-level buyers during his office confession.
Political connections, institutional protection.
These aren't just criminals—they're protected criminals with government resources. "
The room falls into tactical silence. Damian shifts position in the shadows, his movement fluid and predatory. These are targets that require careful planning, the kind that fight back with resources most people can't imagine.
"Then we plan for extended engagement," Damian's voice carries deadly promise from the shadows.
"We handle this together." Jax's uninjured hand settles on my shoulder, fingers tracing the tension gathered there with gentle precision.