Chapter 27
27
ISABEL
T he sheets were warm, tangled around my legs, the scent of Ryker thick in the air. The room was dim, shadows stretching across the walls. I was still breathless, my body thrumming with the kind of satisfaction that came only from him, from the way he touched me.
Ryker lay beside me, propped up on one elbow, watching me with those intense, piercing eyes, his fingers trailing along my bare hip. His touch was possessive, like he was memorizing me, like he wasn’t ready to let me go just yet. Maybe ever.
I rolled onto my side, mirroring him, letting my fingers drift over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, the heat of his skin beneath my touch. His body was a work of art—every ridge, every scar, every hardened muscle telling the story of the battles he had fought, the wars that had shaped him. But it was his eyes that captivated me most. There was something unguarded in them now, something rare.
I thought about what he had just told me—his father’s disappearance, the billions left behind, the way he and his brothers had abandoned everything to chase down ghosts. It was a pain I couldn’t fully understand, but I knew loss. I knew what it was like to ache for something that would never come back.
“That must have been so hard,” I whispered, letting my fingers graze along the edge of his jaw, my thumb sweeping over the rough stubble. “Losing him like that. Never knowing your mom.”
His expression flickered, just for a second, before settling back into that careful, unreadable mask. “We never talked about her,” he admitted. “Dad didn’t even keep pictures. Just said she wasn’t built for the life they had. That she wanted something else.”
I frowned. “You never wanted to find her?”
He exhaled. “Not really. If she wanted to be found, she would’ve been.”
The words were gruff, but I didn’t miss the edge beneath them—the quiet, buried pain of a boy who had grown up never knowing the woman who brought him into the world.
I shifted closer, pressing my bare chest against his, absorbing his warmth. “Even though my dad didn’t die under mysterious circumstances and leave me billions, I miss him so much sometimes it physically hurts.” I swallowed, my voice turning quieter. “And my mom … she died when I was too young to remember her much at all.”
Ryker’s fingers slid up my spine, his touch grounding, anchoring. “Tell me about them.”
I sighed, staring at the space between us, watching the way my fingertips traced the hard lines of his abs. “Dad used to take Will and me ice skating at the Holiday Festival of Lights on James Island every year.” I smiled softly, the memory washing over me. “It didn’t matter that we lived in the Lowcountry, that it never snowed. The festival had lights everywhere—millions of them. A skating rink, hot cocoa, Christmas music. It was like stepping into another world.”
Ryker was quiet, listening.
“He had a magic like that,” I continued, my voice thick with nostalgia. “He could always find a way to show us a world that was better than reality. More fun, more interesting.” I let out a small, sad laugh. “Maybe that’s why Will does what he does. Why he risks his life, puts himself in danger. Maybe he’s trying to make the real world more like the ones our dad always found in experiences and novels.”
Ryker’s hand curled around my waist, his grip firm. “Your dad read to you, too?”
I nodded. “Every night.” I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. “It’s kind of neat that both of our dads did that. Like they wanted us to believe in something bigger.”
He didn’t say anything, but his fingers flexed slightly against my waist, like he was holding onto something.
I hesitated, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I never thought about it before,” I admitted. “But Will always provided that magic, too. He watched over me. He made me feel safe in the world.” I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “How am I supposed to go on if he doesn’t make it out of this alive?”
The silence between us was thick, heavy. Then?—
“He’s going to make it.” His voice was a growl, edged with something raw. “And if he doesn’t?” His jaw clenched. “Then I’ll burn the fucking world for you.”
My breath hitched, my pulse pounding.
I nodded, my throat tightening, my fingers tracing slow circles against Ryker’s chest. He didn’t say much— never had. But the things he did say? They always carried weight. Always meant something.
I’d known guys who talked just to fill the silence, who made promises they never planned to keep, who said all the right things because they thought that’s what I wanted to hear. Ryker wasn’t like that. He didn’t give me empty reassurances, didn’t waste words trying to soothe me with false hope. He told me the truth—brutal, unvarnished, but real.
I sighed, resting my chin against his chest, looking up at him through my lashes. “You know, I probably say five times as many words in a day as you do. Maybe more.”
His lips quirked, his fingers lazily running down my spine. “Sounds exhausting.”
I let out a soft laugh, my breath warming his skin. “You must think I never shut up.”
“I don’t mind it.” His hand slipped lower, tracing slow, teasing patterns over the curve of my ass. “I like the way you talk.”
Something about that sent a delicious little shiver through me. I bit my lip, letting my fingers wander over the ridges of his stomach. “I just want you to know,” I said softly, “you never have to try to be someone you’re not with me.”
His hand stilled for just a second.
“I know you’re not the kind of man who’s going to sit around spilling his feelings all day,” I continued, my voice quiet, steady. “I know you’re not going to make long speeches or tell me things just because you think it’s what I want to hear. And that’s okay.” I pressed my lips to his chest, right over his heart. “Because I believe you. When you say something, I know you mean it. And that’s enough for me.”
His fingers tightened against my skin, his breath coming just a little deeper. I felt the tension in his body, the weight of something unspoken.
Then, he exhaled, his grip sliding up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheek. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured.
I smiled, tilting my head into his touch. “You’re just figuring that out now?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His eyes said everything.
We lay there for a while, wrapped in the quiet warmth of each other, his fingers idly stroking my hip, my leg draped over his. But as much as I wanted to stay in this moment forever, reality crept back in.
The op.
The danger.
I chewed my lip, staring at the way our fingers tangled together on his chest. “What if something goes wrong tomorrow?”
Ryker’s grip tightened around me. “It won’t.”
“But if it does?”
His jaw ticked, his expression hardening. “Then we handle it.”
It was so simple for him. So absolute. And maybe I needed to hear that—needed to believe that these men, these soldiers, would find a way no matter what.
I sighed, shifting slightly, my fingers toying with the sheet. “I don’t have many people left, you know.”
Ryker watched me, silent.
“I mean, obviously Will.” I swallowed. “And Pia and Sasha. And Aunt Maude.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Aunt Maude?”
I let out a small laugh. “She’s my dad’s sister. She lives up in Sumter. She’s … different. Kind of eccentric. Bu t she cares about me.” I hesitated. “I probably don’t let her in enough.”
He didn’t say anything, just ran his fingers through my hair, listening.
“I should probably call her before tomorrow,” I admitted. “Tell her what’s happening.”
Ryker’s body went stiff.
I sighed, shaking my head. “I know. Bad idea.”
“You can call her after,” he said, his voice low, firm. “We’ll go see her when this is over.”
I smiled, tilting my head. “Yeah?”
His lips curled slightly. “Take me up to Sumter. Let me meet this aunt of yours.”
I let my fingers trace along his stomach, teasing. “You sure you’re ready for that?”
“I’m ready for whatever you throw at me, Isabel.”
I laughed, rolling onto my side, facing him fully. “Well, in that case, we can swim in the lake behind her house.”
Ryker snorted. “With the gators?”
I grinned. “You’re not scared of a few alligators, are you?”
He shot me a look, deadpan. “I’m not scared of anything. But I also don’t fuck with prehistoric murder lizards.”
I laughed, shaking my head, then sighed, my expression softening. “I’d like for you to meet her.”
His thumb brushed over my bottom lip. “Then I will.”
My heart squeezed. I didn’t want to think about what might happen tomorrow, about what might go wrong. I wanted to think about the people I had left, the ones I loved.
I thought about Pia. About Sasha .
They weren’t just a roommate and a coworker. They were my closest friends. The kind of friends you kept for a lifetime. The kind you wanted standing beside you for every big moment.
Like bridesmaids.
The thought sent a slow, unexpected thrill through me, my pulse skipping.
And Ryker—he caught it.
His pupils flared just slightly, his grip tightening on my waist. “What are you thinking about?”
I bit my lip, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”
His hand slid lower, gripping my thigh, dragging me closer. “Tell me.”
I tilted my chin up, my voice turning teasing. “Just … Sasha and Pia. How they’d probably be my bridesmaids if I ever got married.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Oh?” he murmured, his fingers digging into my skin.
I smirked. “Mm-hm.”
Something dark flared in his gaze. Possessive. Predatory. He rolled on top of me in one fluid motion, pinning me beneath him, his weight pressing me into the mattress.
“You like saying things to get me worked up, don’t you?” His voice was rough, low.
I grinned. “Maybe.”
I absolutely did like saying things to get him worked up. It had become my guilty pleasure.
He growled, his mouth crashing against mine, his hands dragging down my body.
And then there were no more words. Only the sound of our bodies moving together, the sharp, breathless moans he pulled from me, the way he worshipped me like he was trying to brand himself into my skin.
Like he was already planning on making me his forever.
I barely had time to catch my breath before Ryker’s hand was sliding down my thigh, gripping, squeezing, dragging me closer. His mouth was at my ear, his voice dark, rough, full of something I didn’t quite understand but wanted more than anything.
“You don’t get to say things like that and expect me to let it go.”
A slow, wicked thrill curled in my stomach. “Like what?”
His teeth scraped the delicate shell of my ear, sending a shiver straight through me. “Bridesmaids,” he murmured. “Marriage.” His hand slid lower, between my legs, his fingers stroking through my slick heat, teasing, taunting. “You in a wedding dress.”
I gasped as his fingers pressed deeper, my back arching against him. “Ryker?—”
He growled, flipping me onto my stomach in one quick motion, his palm pressing between my shoulder blades, keeping me down, holding me exactly where he wanted me.
The weight of him was intoxicating.
“You wanna know what that thought does to me?” His voice was thick, hungry. His free hand skimmed down my spine, slow, deliberate. “The thought of you in white. Just for me.” His fingers hooked under my hips, tilting me up, positioning me.
I moaned as he dragged the thick head of his cock through my wetness, teasing my entrance, letting me feel just how hard he was.
“Or maybe just a veil,” he rasped. “Nothing else. ”
I whimpered, my body trembling, aching, desperate for him. “Ryker, please?—”
He thrust inside me in one deep, punishing stroke, stretching me wide, filling me completely. I cried out, my fingers clutching at the sheets, my body molding to his perfectly as he drove himself deeper, pressing his chest to my back, his breath hot against my neck.
“Never gonna get enough of you,” he murmured against my skin, his hips rolling in slow, devastating thrusts. “Never.”
I gasped as he shifted slightly, angling just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars. “Oh, God?—”
He gripped my hips, pulling me back onto him, setting a brutal rhythm that had my body spiraling, my legs shaking, pleasure coiling hot and tight inside me.
“You like that?” His voice was thick, wrecked. “Like knowing you’re mine?”
“Yes,” I moaned, my body clenching around him, desperate for more.
He growled, his hand slipping under my stomach, between my legs, his fingers finding my clit, circling, teasing, sending me hurtling toward the edge.
“Come for me, Isabel.”
His voice was a command, a promise, a possession.
And I did.
I shattered around him, my body tightening, trembling, pleasure exploding through me in waves so intense I could barely breathe.
Ryker groaned, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper, until he was spilling inside me with a low, guttural growl, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me close, holding me as we came down together.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths, the steady beat of his heart against my back, the warmth of him still inside me.
Then—his lips brushed my shoulder, his voice low, gruff. “I’ve had you so many times now, but it’s never enough. Never, Isabel. Do you hear me?”
I nodded, then shivered, my stomach flipping, my chest tightening with something terrifying and beautiful all at once.
Later, when we were tangled together, our bodies spent, I reached for the notepad on the nightstand, flipping to a blank page.
Ryker watched me, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing?”
I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the pen. “Writing a letter.”
His eyes darkened. “To who?”
I swallowed, staring at the blank page. “Pia. In case …”
His jaw clenched. “No.”
I turned to him, my chest tightening. “Ryker, I?—”
“No.” His hand covered mine, stopping the pen. “You’re not writing a goodbye letter.”
I exhaled, pressing my lips together. “Then can I at least call her?”
I needed to hear Pia’s voice. I needed to feel connected to something outside of Dominion Hall, outside of this mission.
Ryker’s expression was unreadable. For a long moment, I thought he’d say no. Then, finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Go ahead.”
Relief flooded my chest.
“But keep it vague,” he warned. “No details. No risk.”
I nodded, reaching for my phone, but before I could dial, Ryker’s hand closed over mine, stilling my movements. My eyes flicked up to his, finding something different in his expression now.
“There’s something you need to know,” he said, his voice quieter.
I swallowed. “What?”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “We got proof of life.”
A shiver skated down my spine. “Proof?”
His jaw flexed. “A photo. Of Will.”
The words settled between us, heavy and sharp.
I braced myself. “How bad?”
His fingers flexed against my thigh, like he wanted to hold back, like he wasn’t sure how much I could take. “Bad,” he admitted. “But not irreversible.”
I sucked in a slow breath, willing my stomach to stay steady. Will was tough. He was trained for this. And he was alive. That was the only thing that mattered.
I squared my shoulders, forcing the tremor from my voice. “Okay.”
Ryker’s gaze searched mine, like he was trying to gauge if I was really handling it or just pretending to be.
And maybe I was pretending. Maybe I’d fall apart later, when I wasn’t sitting in front of him, when I wasn’t fighting to keep myself together. But right now, I needed to be steady. Needed to be ready for whatever came next.
Because tomorrow, everything would change.