Chapter 9 Wrecker
WRECKER
Amanda hadn’t slept much after the nightmare.
Neither had I.
She moved through the morning like she didn’t trust stillness. Pacing instead of sitting, hands flexing like she was checking whether they still belonged to her. Watching doors. Watching space. Watching me.
When she finally spoke, it wasn’t about the dream.
“I need to move,” she said quietly.
Not fight.
Not train.
Just move.
Something in my chest tightened at that. I recognized it. The itch under the skin. The way stillness made everything louder.
“Okay,” I told her.
So I brought her somewhere movement made sense.
The training room smelled like sweat and rubber mats and old metal.
It always did. The place didn’t change for anyone. You walked in carrying whatever you brought with you, and the room met you exactly where you were.
Amanda stood across from me, feet planted wrong, shoulders too tight, fists clenched like she expected them to shake apart if she loosened them even a little.
She wore borrowed sweats and one of my old T-shirts, the hem hanging past her hips.
Her hair was pulled back, but loose strands kept slipping free, sticking to the side of her neck where her pulse jumped every time she swallowed.
“Again,” I said.
She lifted her hands, tried to mirror my stance, then faltered halfway through the movement. Her weight shifted too far back, heel lifting.
I caught her elbow before she could tip.
“Damn it.” She yanked her arm free and dropped both hands. “I don’t get it.”
“You’re thinking too much.”
“I don’t know how not to,” she snapped, then immediately winced. “Sorry.”
I didn’t tell her it was fine. I stepped back instead, giving her space she didn’t seem to want but clearly needed.
“Reset,” I said. “Feet first.”
She looked down, adjusted, then adjusted again.
Still wrong.
“You’re bracing like you expect the ground to give out,” I said.
She huffed out a breath. “It might.”
“It won’t.”
She tried again. This time her stance was closer, but when I stepped toward her, slow and controlled, she flinched anyway. Shoulders up. Chin tucked. Guard collapsing inward.
I stopped immediately.
Her breath went shallow.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I just—do it again. I can do it.”
“We’re not doing it again yet.”
She looked up at me, frustration sharp in her eyes. “I don’t want to be bad at this.”
“You’re not bad at it,” I said. “You’re scared.”
Her mouth tightened.
“That’s not the same thing,” she muttered.
“It is when your body moves before your brain does.”
She tried again. And again. Each time something small went wrong. Her balance. Her timing. Her reaction speed. Every correction stacked on the last until her hands started to shake.
Not big. Not obvious.
The kind you only noticed if you were already watching for it.
“Stop,” I said.
She froze mid-motion.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” I closed the distance fully this time. Close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin, to hear the way her breathing had gone shallow and fast. “We’re done for a minute.”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t want to quit.”
“This isn’t quitting.”
She looked away, blinking hard. “It feels like it.”
I lifted my hands slowly, deliberately, so she could track every movement before I touched her. One hand settled at her elbow, the other at her wrist, adjusting her guard without forcing it.
“You’re locking everything up,” I said quietly. “You don’t need to be rigid to be strong.”
Her breathing hitched at the contact.
I slid my hand up to her shoulder, feeling the tension knotted there. “You’re trying to control the outcome instead of the moment.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine. Bright. Frustrated. Wet around the edges in a way she clearly hated.
“I don’t want to freeze again.”
The words landed heavy between us.
I studied her for a beat. The tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers flexed like she was already bracing for something that hadn’t happened yet.
“Okay,” I said. “Then we don’t practice easy.”
Her eyes flicked up. “What does that mean?”
I didn’t answer. I stepped in.
Not fast. Not rough. Just close enough that she felt the change in air, the shift in space. Close enough to matter.
Her breath caught.
“Hands up,” I said.
She lifted them automatically, stance still wrong but determined. I circled her once, slow, letting the silence stretch.
“You know I’m going to take you down,” I said calmly.
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t know that.”
A corner of my mouth twitched. “I do.”
That earned me a flash of heat in her eyes.
Good.
I moved.
Not a full attack but a controlled entry. My hand caught her wrist, the other hooking her elbow as I stepped into her space and started to turn her.
I felt it immediately.
The hesitation.
Her body stiffened. Breath locked. That familiar edge of freeze hovering right there.
“Hey,” I said, low and sharp. “Stay with me.”
Her feet faltered.
I leaned in, voice right by her ear. “Push through it.”
“I—”
“Now, Amanda.”
Something snapped.
Not panic.
Focus.
She shifted her weight instead of locking it. Dropped her center of gravity like I’d shown her. Her grip changed, tighter and surer, and suddenly I wasn’t leading the movement anymore.
She drove forward.
Hard.
I let it happen.
Her shoulder hit my chest. Her leg swept behind mine, clumsy but committed, and the next thing I knew I was going down.
The mat hit my back with a solid thump.
She followed me down without thinking, momentum carrying her right over me. Her knees planted on either side of my hips, hands braced on my chest, breathing fast and wild and very real.
Her hands were still on my chest. Not bracing. Not pushing away.
Just… there.
She wasn’t panicking.
She wasn’t apologizing.
She was present.
For a second, we just stared at each other.
Her eyes were blown wide. Shocked.
Then something else crept in.
Heat.
“You didn’t freeze,” I said quietly.
Her chest rose and fell hard. “I didn’t.”
A smile broke across her face before she could stop it. Bright. Unrestrained. Proud.
“You took me down,” I added.
Her fingers curled in my shirt like she was just realizing where she was. “You let me.”
“I gave you the opening,” I said. “You took it.”
That did something to her.
I felt it in the way her posture shifted. Straighter. Stronger. Like her body finally trusted itself again.
“So,” she said quietly, still straddling me, breath coming fast, eyes bright. “What do we do now?”
I knew immediately the question wasn’t about training.
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head once. “You know,” I said, eyes dragging deliberately over her face, her hands braced on my chest, “most people at least pretend they didn’t mean to put me on my back.”
Her lips twitched despite herself.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” I added lightly. “Just that you skipped a few steps.”
I still didn’t move. Didn’t touch her. I stayed exactly where I was—open, grounded, letting her feel the space instead of filling it for her.
Then my voice shifted. Not playful anymore. Steady. Certain.
“What happens next,” I said evenly, meeting her gaze and holding it, “is entirely up to you.”
Her eyes flicked to my mouth.
Back to my eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, like she was second guessing herself.
I was about to say something, but her eyes quickly shifted from hesitation to determination.
Like she made a decision she wasn’t going to turn back from.
And fucking hell I sure hope she didn’t.
My hands tensed slightly on her hips without meaning to and before I could loosen them, her lips crashed into mine.
Not tentative.
Not careful.
Hard. Desperate.
I kissed her back before my brain caught up.
The second her mouth pressed to mine, the room tilted. Weeks of restraint snapped tight and burned through all at once. She made a low sound that was surprised and breathless. It made my grip tightened automatically, pulling her body closer to mine.
Her knees gripped tighter around my waist and in that moment I wanted nothing more but to be able to rip her clothes off and show her how special she truly was. But I held back. She was fully in control and I wanted her to know that.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders like she needed something to hold onto.
I forced myself to slow it for half a second, mouth moving against hers just enough to give her space to choose.
“If this isn’t what you want, tell me to stop,” I murmured.
Her answer came without hesitation. “Don’t.”
That was it.
I kissed her again, deeper this time, heat and urgency everywhere at once. Her legs locked around my waist, body clinging like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.
The door opened.
“Movement.”
Ghost’s voice cut through the room, flat and precise.
I pulled back instantly, chest heaving, hands braced on either side of her head. Amanda’s cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, eyes wide like she’d just been dragged out of something she hadn’t wanted to leave.
Ghost stood in the doorway, mask unreadable.
“You two—later,” he added. “We’ve got activity coming together.”
I growled under my breath.
Amanda cleared her throat and loosened her legs around me. We got up from the floor slowly, keeping my hands on her a second longer than necessary to make sure she stayed steady.
“Contact?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Ghost said. “Chatter. Perimeter pings. Ranger’s confirming.”
“How long?” I demanded.
A pause. Calculated.
“Thirty. Maybe forty.”
Enough time to matter. Not enough to relax.
Amanda’s hands dropped to her sides. She looked between us, then toward the door, then back at me.
“You’re leaving,” she said.
Not a question.
“Yeah.”
Her throat bobbed. “Tonight.”
“Yes.”
She nodded once, like she was bracing herself. “Okay.”
I hated that she didn’t argue.
Ghost lingered a beat longer, saying nothing. The silence stretched just long enough to feel deliberate. Like he was debating saying more.
“I’ll call when we lock it in,” he said finally.
Then he was gone.
The door shut softly behind him.
The quiet that followed pressed in on us.
Amanda rubbed her hands together like she didn’t know what to do with them. “I should go.”
“No,” I said.
She paused. Looked at me.
“You don’t have time,” she said. “You need to gear up.”
I stepped closer again. Slower this time. Deliberate.
“I need something to hold onto while I’m out there,” I said.
Her breath caught.
For a second, she just stared at me like she was weighing something heavy and fragile all at once. Then she grabbed my shirt and pulled me down into another kiss.
This one wasn’t explosive.
It was urgent.
I broke it just long enough to press my forehead to hers. “Come with me.”
Her eyes widened. “Where?”
“My room,” I said. “I need to gear up. You don’t leave my sight.”
She nodded once.
I grabbed my jacket off the bench and took her hand, threading my fingers through hers. She squeezed like she was afraid I’d let go.
We didn’t speak as we walked the hallway.
The compound hummed around us. Boots moving, low voices, the shift from standby to action but all I could feel was her hand in mine and the countdown ticking in my head.
Every step closer to my room was one step closer to leaving her behind again.
I closed the door behind us and locked it without thinking.
Amanda turned to face me, chest rising and falling fast, eyes dark with everything we hadn’t finished.
“I need something to hold onto,” I said quietly.
She didn’t answer with words.
She closed the distance between us and kissed me. Hard enough to steal the air from my lungs.
And that was it.
There was no stopping after that.