Chapter 25
We Don’t Get to Pretend Anymore
Ghost
The second that she said she didn’t care, whatever control I had finally gave out for good. Not violently, not like before with sharp edges and anger. This felt slower, heavier, as if the weight of everything between us settled into something real.
My mouth found hers carefully at first, like I was reacquainting myself with something I’d tried to forget for two years. She tasted the same—dangerous, addictive, capable of pulling every buried instinct in me straight to the surface with one kiss.
This time, there was no rage driving it. Only need.
Mira’s fingers slid into my hair as she kissed me back, slow and deep, nearly wrecking me on the spot. The sound she made against my mouth connected somewhere low in my chest. It prompted my hand to tighten instinctively at her waist. I pulled her closer until there was no space left between us.
She let me.
That was what hit me hardest. Not the kiss, or the heat building between us. It was the trust buried beneath it despite everything I had done to destroy it. She leaned into me as if her body remembered exactly what it felt like to belong there.
My forehead rested against hers when we finally broke for air, both of us breathing harder than we should have from something so simple. The flickering lights below caught the exhaustion in her eyes, the tension she’d carried, and something in me softened in a way I’d denied myself for years.
“You should hate me,” I murmured.
A bitter half-smile touched her lips before she shook her head. “I do,” she whispered back. “That’s part of the problem.”
A rough laugh escaped me before I kissed her again, slower this time, less frantic yet infinitely more intimate because of it. My hands traveled over her carefully, memorizing her after two years of pretending I could survive without touching her.
I couldn’t.
That truth sat brutal and undeniable in my chest now.
She shifted against me. Her arms slid around my neck as I backed her away from the railing slowly, and guided her toward the darker end of the catwalk, where shadows swallowed us whole. Every step felt inevitable, not reckless, just overdue.
Her fingers curled into my shirt as I kissed along her jaw and down her neck, making her shiver against me before she let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to my name.
That nearly shattered me.
This wasn’t just physical anymore. There was history in every touch—familiarity… the kind that only came from truly knowing someone.
I knew where she was sensitive. Knew how her breathing changed when she was trying not to give in. And she knew me just as well.
Her palm slid against my chest before dropping lower, deliberate enough to catch my breath in my throat. Her eyes lifted to mine in the dim light … heat, exhaustion, and something dangerously close to vulnerability swirled in them.
“We shouldn’t do this here,” she whispered.
But neither of us moved to stop.
My hands settled at her hips, gripping tighter as I looked at her and felt every wall that I’d built cracking wider.
“Tell me to stop,” I said quietly, knowing she wouldn’t.
Mira’s gaze held mine before she stepped closer and pressed herself fully against me.
That was it—no more hesitation. No more pretending this wasn’t happening.
I kissed her harder, and she met me instantly. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as everything between us gave way again, slower and deeper than before, but no less dangerous.
My hands moved from her hips to her thighs and lifted her effortlessly as she wrapped her legs around me.
The movement was practiced and familiar as we reached the wall, and I pressed her back against the cold metal.
Our mouths continued their frantic dance.
Her hands fisted in my hair, pulling just enough to make me groan against her lips.
“Aiden,” she breathed, the sound of my name from her lips nearly undid me. It had been so long since I had heard it without fear or judgment.
“Mira,” I groaned back, my hips grinding against hers. I could feel how ready she was, despite the uncertainty clouding our situation.
My fingers worked at her jeans, the zipper hissing in the quiet air. Her breathing hitched as my hand slipped inside, finding her wet and ready. I circled her clit slowly, watching her eyes flutter shut, her head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.
“Aiden,” she moaned, her hips rocking against my hand. “Please.”
I knew exactly what she needed. “Please, what?” I whispered, my fingers stilled just enough to make her squirm.
Her eyes opened, dark with need. “Please don’t make me wait,” she breathed. “Not again.”
That was all it took. I freed myself, my cock hard and aching for her. Her hand wrapped around me, stroking slowly as our eyes met. There was no hesitation now, just raw, undeniable need between us.
“Now,” she whispered, her legs tightening around my waist.
I pushed into her slowly, savoring the way her body stretched to accommodate mine. She was tight, so tight it made my breath catch. Her walls clenched around me like they never wanted to let me go again. I buried my face in her neck as I filled her.
“Fuck,” I breathed against her skin. “I missed this.”
Her hands tightened in my hair. “Me, too,” she admitted quietly, vulnerability shining in her gaze. “Even when I hated myself for it.”
I started moving then, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and meaningful. This wasn’t the frantic coupling from before — all anger, desperation, and pain. This was a reconnection. This was remembering.
Her mouth found mine again, the kiss slow and deep, full of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.
I moved inside her with a rhythm that was both familiar and new.
My hips rolled against hers in a way that made her gasp against my mouth.
Her nails dug into my shoulders as I hit that spot inside her that always made her see stars.
“Right there,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
I increased my pace, my thrusts becoming deeper, harder, more demanding. Her body responded instantly, her hips met mine thrust for thrust, her breathing grew ragged as she climbed closer to the edge. I could feel her getting tighter around me… her walls fluttered as her orgasm approached.
“Aiden,” she moaned, her head falling back against the wall. “I’m close.”
“Come for me,” I growled against her neck, my teeth scraped against her skin. “Let me feel you.”
That was all it took. Her body convulsed around me, her orgasm washed over her in waves as she cried out my name. I followed her over the edge a moment later, my own release hit me hard enough to steal my breath. My body tensed as I emptied myself inside her with a guttural groan.
We stayed like that for a long time, our bodies still joined, our breathing ragged in the quiet darkness.
I rested my forehead against hers, my eyes closed as I tried to process what had just happened between us.
This wasn’t just sex. It was something more.
Something deeper. Something that scared the hell out of me.
“We should get dressed,” she whispered finally, her voice soft but firm.
I nodded slowly. I carefully lowered her to the ground before pulling away to adjust my clothes. She did the same, her movements deliberate, her eyes avoiding mine as the silence between us grew heavier with each passing second.
“Mira,” I started, reaching for her hand.
“Mira,” I started again, my hand caught hers before she could fully pull away from me.
She stilled at the contact. Tension ran through her instantly despite everything that had just happened between us.
Her eyes finally lifted to mine, guarded now in a way they hadn’t been a few minutes ago, like the reality of where we were and what this actually meant had come crashing back down around us.
And fuck, I felt it, too.
The heat was still there. I could still taste her on my mouth, still feel the imprint of her body against mine like my skin had already decided it wasn’t letting this go anytime soon.
But underneath all of that sat something heavier now, pressing down harder with every second the silence stretched between us.
Reality.
Ironhand.
The transport.
Saint’s message sitting like a live wire in the back of my mind.
I should’ve told her. That thought hit hard enough to push the words out before I could stop them, nearly.
Mira deserved to know what this had grown into beyond these walls.
She deserved to know Sanctuary was already tracking Syndicate movement outside Ironhand, that Saint and Reaper were worried enough to break radio silence after a month.
Deserved to know this wasn’t contained anymore.
My jaw tightened as the words climbed halfway up my throat before instinct slammed them back down again.
Not here. Not now.
Because the second I told her, everything would shift. This stopped being about the two of us barely holding ourselves together inside Ironhand and became something larger, uglier, and more dangerous than either of us was ready to face head-on.
And selfishly? Part of me didn’t want to watch what that realization would do to her.
Mira’s gaze narrowed slightly, like she could see the exact second I pulled back into myself again.
“What?” she asked quietly. “You look like you’re about to say something.”
I almost did. Christ, I almost told her everything. Instead, my thumb brushed once against the inside of her wrist before I let her hand go slowly. “Nothing,” I muttered. The lie tasted like shit the second it left my mouth.
Her expression hardened immediately.
There it was. That fracture between us again. Not explosive this time. Worse. Quieter. Built from all the things we still weren’t saying to each other.
Mira stepped back fully, then she put space between us while she adjusted the hem of her shirt, her movements controlled even though I could still see the lingering flush across her skin from where I’d touched her.
“You do that a lot,” she said softly, not looking at me now. “Get close enough that I think maybe you’re finally going to be honest with me… and then shut me back out.”
The words landed exactly where they were meant to. Because she was right, and the worst part was, standing here looking at her after everything we’d just shared, I still couldn’t force myself to break the habit.
The silence between us lingered after that, thick enough to feel pressed against my ribs. Mira didn’t argue again. Didn’t push harder for answers even though I knew she wanted to.
That almost made it worse. I would’ve preferred anger… even yelling. At least then I could’ve fought back against it instead of standing here drowning in everything neither of us knew how to fix.
Below us, the crowd roared again as another fight ended violently.
The sound echoed up through the metal catwalk beneath our feet.
Ironhand kept moving around us as if nothing had changed.
Like people weren’t being trafficked through its veins while the rest of the building cheered over blood and broken bones.
But everything had changed. I felt it now from every direction at once.
Silas was tightening his hold during the operation.
He pushed Mira deeper, watched more closely, and tested harder.
Sanctuary pulled at the other end through Saint’s message, reminding me that this had already spread beyond Ironhand, whether I wanted to admit it or not.
The mission was expanding faster than I could contain, and somewhere in the middle of all of it stood Mira, tangled up in me again in ways neither of us could seem to stop.
She looked at me one last time before she stepped away, and something in my chest twisted hard at the exhaustion that sat behind her eyes. Not weakness, never that. Just weariness from carrying too much pressure for too long.
I understood it because I felt the same way.
My gaze followed her until she disappeared down the far stairwell, and left me alone on the catwalk with the noise of Ironhand roaring underneath me. The weight of everything crashed together in my head all at once.
This wasn’t sustainable anymore.
Not the mission. Not whatever was happening between us. Not the lie I kept telling myself that I could hold all of this together without something eventually collapsing under the pressure.
Because deep down, I already knew the truth. This wasn’t going to end without one of us breaking.