Chapter 32 Ethan
Ethan
The compound burns behind us.
Flames claw through broken walls, smoke rolling thick into the sky, swallowing whatever Hayes built.
I don’t look back.
Not for long.
Not long enough to feel satisfied.
It’s not enough.
It’ll never be enough.
We keep moving.
Through trees.
Through shadow.
Boots crunching over dirt and debris until the noise fades behind us—until the fire becomes distant, swallowed by distance and night.
Only then—
only when we’re clear—
do I look at her.
Really look.
Ava walks beside me like she always does.
Steady.
Controlled.
Like nothing touched her.
Like she didn’t just tear through a compound full of armed men and walk out alive.
But I see it.
The slight hitch in her step.
The way her arm stays tight against her side.
The blood.
Too much of it.
My chest tightens.
“Stop.”
She glances over.
“Ethan—”
“Stop.”
Quieter this time.
But there’s no give in it.
She exhales, slow, like she’s deciding whether to fight me on it—
then finally stops.
The team keeps moving.
Ronan doesn’t say anything.
He just gives us space.
They all do.
I step in front of her.
Close.
Too close to pretend this is just another checkpoint in a mission.
My hands come up—
pause for half a second—
then settle on her.
Careful.
Measured.
But I feel everything.
“You’re hit.”
“It’s nothing.”
I give her a look.
She huffs a breath.
“Okay… not nothing.”
“Where?”
She hesitates.
That’s all it takes.
My jaw tightens.
“Where, Ava.”
Her expression softens—just a fraction.
Then she lifts the edge of her shirt.
My breath leaves me.
The bandage is soaked through.
Dark.
Still bleeding.
My stomach drops.
Three days.
Three days and it’s still like this.
Anger hits fast.
Cold.
Sharp.
I glance at her wrists—
raw.
Torn.
Blood still slick along her skin where the restraints cut in.
She notices the look and shakes her head like it doesn’t matter.
It does.
My hands are already moving.
Checking.
Pressing lightly.
Assessing.
Trying to stay steady when everything in me is anything but.
“You were shot,” I say. “And it wasn’t treated right.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not the point.”
The words come out rough.
Too rough.
She doesn’t flinch.
She just watches me.
Really watches me.
Like she can see everything I’m trying to keep locked down.
“I handled it,” she says softly.
“I know you did.”
That’s the problem.
That she always has to.
I press lightly near the wound.
She flinches—
barely there—
but I feel it.
My chest tightens harder.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
She lets out a small breath.
“Because the moment you saw me, you were already ready to burn the world down.”
She’s right.
Doesn’t make it easier to hear.
My hand slides from her side—
up her arm—
to her face.
I cup her cheek.
Careful.
Like she might disappear if I’m not.
“You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Something shifts in her expression.
That strength she carries—
that armor—
cracks.
Just a little.
“I didn’t know if I still had you,” she admits.
That hits.
Hard.
I lean in, resting my forehead against hers.
Same as before.
But quieter now.
Real in a way that doesn’t need words.
“You never lost me.”
Her breath stutters.
“I thought I did.”
My thumb brushes just under her eye.
She didn’t even realize she was that close to breaking.
“I looked for you,” I say. “Every day.”
Her hand finds my shirt again.
Not desperate.
Not panicked.
Anchoring.
“I wanted to come back,” she whispers. “When my memory came back… I wanted to find you.”
“What stopped you?”
Her eyes darken.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something heavier.
“The people I was with,” she says. “The ones behind all this… they don’t let people walk away.”
My jaw tightens.
“They’re about to regret that.”
A faint smile touches her lips.
Tired.
But real.
“I figured you’d say that.”
Silence settles between us.
But it’s not empty.
It’s full.
Of everything we didn’t get to say.
Everything we lost.
Everything we’re standing in now.
My hand slides from her face—
to the back of her neck—
pulling her just a little closer.
She doesn’t resist.
Doesn’t pull away.
Her breath mixes with mine.
And for a second—
just a second—
the world falls away.
No mission.
No war.
No Hayes.
Just her.
“I thought you were dead,” I say quietly.
“I almost was.”
My chest tightens.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t care.”
She studies me.
Soft now.
Open.
“I’m here.”
That’s what matters.
I lean in—
pause just before her lips—
giving her the choice.
Always her choice.
She closes the distance.
The kiss isn’t rushed.
Isn’t desperate.
It’s slower.
Deeper.
Like we’re relearning something we never really forgot.
Like we’re proving this is real.
My hand tightens at her waist—careful of the injury—but still pulling her closer.
She exhales softly against me.
Fingers curling into my shirt.
When we finally pull back—
foreheads resting together—
I don’t let go.
Not yet.
Not again.
“After this,” I murmur, “we’re not done.”
Her lips curve slightly.
“Good,” she says softly. “Because neither are they.”
The war.
The list.
Hayes.
All of it still waiting.
But now—
she’s beside me.
And that changes everything.
Ronan’s voice cuts through.
“Extraction’s ready.”
Ava pulls back just enough to look at me.
“You good?” I ask.
She nods.
Steady again.
Strong.
But not alone anymore.
“Yeah,” she says. “I am.”
I take her hand.
Not letting go.
“Let’s finish this.”
Together.