Chapter 106 Harper
Harper
The fire had burned down to glowing embers, filling the cabin with a soft heat that wrapped around us. Carter hadn’t let go of me since the door shut behind the team. His arms were still around me, his breath steady against my hair, like he needed to convince himself I was real.
And maybe I needed that too.
I sank into him, my cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. Strong. Unyielding. Alive. The sound was a balm against the echo of gunfire that still haunted my ears.
When I finally pulled back, his eyes caught mine. The weariness there was sharp—bruises darkening his jaw, blood seeping through the torn fabric at his shoulder—but there was something else too. Something softer, rawer.
“You should sit,” I whispered, my fingers brushing the edge of the wound.
He caught my hand, pressing it flat against his chest. “I don’t care about that. I care about you.” His voice was rough, low, breaking something inside me in the gentlest way.
The tears welled again, but I didn’t look away. “I thought I lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me,” he said firmly, no hesitation. “Not while I’m breathing.”
The vow settled into my bones, easing some of the fear that had gnawed at me for days. I traced the lines of his face with trembling fingers, memorizing every scar, every shadow.
Then he leaned down, and our lips met again. This kiss wasn’t hurried or frantic. It was unhurried, reverent—like he was staking his claim not just on my body, but on my soul.
I melted into it, my hands sliding up to his shoulders, careful of the wound but desperate to hold on. For the first time since the nightmare began, I felt something close to peace.
Because no matter what Redwood threw at us, no matter how deep the shadows went, I knew the truth:
Carter wasn’t just my protector. He was my partner.
And together, we were unbreakable.