The Breach #2
I drive up. I enter her in one smooth, hard motion.
A shock to the system. Tight. Wet. Perfect. The sensation overrides the cold, the wind, the threat outside. There is only this heat, this connection, the world narrowing down to the point of entry.
She cries out, throwing her head back, exposing the frantic pulse in her neck.
I bite the soft skin there, marking her to leave a trace. If they come for her, they’ll know she was mine first. They’ll know she didn’t die untouched.
I drive into her hard and fast.
No finesse. No gentle lovemaking. It’s survival and the primal need to be deep inside her, filling the void carved by fear.
The wall thuds rhythmically behind her with every thrust. The sound echoes in the hallway, a primitive beat. The hollow knock of wood and plaster is proof that we’re still here.
She meets me. Sobs tear from her throat, but she kisses me, biting my shoulder, her nails scoring my back. She needs this violence as much as I do. She needs to feel the impact to know we’re still alive.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
The mantra spills out of me, desperate and harsh.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
The friction builds unbearably. Adrenaline acts as an accelerant, dousing the fire with gasoline.
She shatters around me. Her body convulses, clenching, unmaking me with a high, sobbing cry.
I follow her over the edge.
I pour myself into her. Emptying everything: the fear, the rage, the want, until nothing remains. Until I am hollowed out and filled only with her.
We collapse.
I slide down the wall, my legs giving out. We end up on the floor, our limbs tangled, our breath harsh and loud in the silence.
The hallway drops freezing cold now. The adrenaline fades, leaving the chill to creep back in. But where our skin touches, it’s an inferno.
She rests her forehead against mine, her body still trembling, the aftershocks moving through her in waves that press against my chest.
I wait until her breathing evens out. Until the tremor leaves her limbs. Until the danger recedes enough that I can think again.
Only then do I speak.
“You disobeyed a direct order.”
Her eyelids flutter open, hazy and warm. She nods once, slowly. No argument or bravado left.
“I told you to go to the safe room. That wasn’t optional. That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to decide when you’re brave or when you’re useful. When I give an order like that, I’ve already done the math, and you stepping out of position puts both of us at risk.”
Silence stretches between us. She absorbs it. She doesn’t apologize, knowing an apology won’t fix the tactical error.
I shift just enough to make sure she rests securely, wrapped in my coat, shielded from the cold floor. Protection first. Always. Even when I want to shake her in anger.
“This is how this works.” My voice holds level and final. “As long as you are under my protection, your safety isn’t negotiable. I don’t debate it. I don’t weigh feelings against it. I decide. And you follow.”
I wait until I know she listens. I wait until her gaze clears.
“The next breach, real or false, you move immediately. Safe room. Lock it. You stay there until I come for you. No matter what you hear. No matter how long it takes. Even if you hear gunshots. Even if you hear me dying.”
She swallows. Her throat works.
“And if I don’t.”
I hold her gaze under my own weight. I let her see the line she stands on, the edge of the cliff.
“Then I still protect you, because that’s my job.” I hold the pause deliberately. “But whatever this is between us ends. Completely. No second chances or explanations. You disobey me, and this becomes strictly professional. Forever.”
That lands.
Her breathing pauses, not out of fear but out of understanding. The stakes register. My protection stays tied to my control, and if she breaks the control, she breaks the man.
She nods once. Sharp. Certain.
“I understand.”
“Good. Because this is no game to me, and if you want both, my protection and whatever’s burning between us, your obedience is the cost.”
I hold her there until the tension drains out of her shoulders from knowing exactly where the line is.
Only then do I settle in to keep watch. Discipline isn’t about punishment. It’s about survival, and if she stays alive, she has to follow my orders.
Eventually, she drifts off. The adrenaline crash takes her. She sleeps right there in my arms, trusting me to keep watch. Trusting the monster to keep the other monsters away.
I don’t sleep.
I can’t sleep. My mind still runs threat assessments. My skin still burns where she touched me.
Carefully untangling myself from her, I carry her to the bedroom. She’s light in my arms. I tuck her in, standing there a moment to watch her steady breathing. She looks peaceful.
I hate that she looks peaceful. She should be terrified. She should be running.
I walk back out to the living room and scan the darkness.
I pick up my weapon from the bench, wiping the condensation from the slide.
Then it catches my eye.
The sat-phone.
It sits on the kitchen counter where I left it. The distinct blue light blinks.
A message.
I didn’t hear it come in. I was too busy breaking my own rules.
I unlock the screen and stare at the text.
Sender: Unknown—I know you have her. You have 24 hours to bring me the documents, or I send the cleanup crew.
The phone nearly cracks in my grip.
They found us.
How?
Hutchinson is the only one with the frequency. Unless… My thumb traces the casing of the phone. Triangulation. If they have tech better than ours. If Mercer has agency resources we don’t know about. They just needed us to stay in one place long enough for the net to close.
I look toward the bedroom where Iris sleeps.
I promised to keep her safe. I failed. By touching her, by stopping, by staying, I let them catch up.
I engage the slide on my Glock. The metallic click echoes in the empty room.
We’re not waiting for them to come.
I give her three more hours while I strip the house to what we can carry. Then, in the dead cold before the sun, I go to wake her.