Chapter 68 Carter
Carter
By the time the sun was high over the trees, the cabin was alive with quiet movement.
Gideon hunched over the table, lines of code and data flickering on his laptop.
River paced the porch with his comm, his voice low and steady as he checked in with outside contacts.
Cyclone had already gone for another perimeter sweep, his boots crunching over gravel and pine needles.
And me? I sat at the table with a rifle across my lap, cleaning each piece with methodical precision. My eyes drifted every few seconds to the hall, to the bedroom door where Harper still rested.
Her words replayed in my head like a vow carved in stone: I’ll fight too. Not just to survive. For us.
God help me, part of me wanted to lock that door, stand guard, and never let her cross the threshold again. But another part—the part that knew Harper wasn’t made to be hidden—understood what she meant. She wasn’t asking for danger. She was asking for honesty. For partnership.
River stepped back inside, sliding his comm into his vest. “Word is spreading. Graves’ death rattled cages. The network’s shifting, regrouping. If we move fast, we can track the flow of money and find who’s next in line.”
“Names?” I asked. My voice came out harder than I intended.
“Too early,” River said. “But Gideon’s working on it. Whoever’s behind this isn’t sloppy. They’ll bury the trail deep.”
I set the rifle aside, leaning forward, my hands braced against the table. “Then we dig deeper. I don’t care how far this goes. I want every name, every safehouse, every account. Until there’s nothing left to threaten her.”
Gideon glanced up from his laptop. “That’s not a mission, Carter. That’s a crusade.”
“Damn right it is.”
The room went quiet, heavy with the truth of it. This wasn’t just about closing an op anymore. This was personal.
The bedroom door creaked then, and Harper stepped into the room. My flannel still hung loose around her shoulders, her hair tangled from sleep, but her eyes—God, her eyes—were steady as they met mine.
I rose to my feet before I even realized it, the soldier in me bristling at the thought of her hearing too much, too soon. But the man in me—the one who loved her—stayed rooted, waiting.
Because I’d promised her the truth. And this time, I wasn’t going to shut her out.