Chapter 6 #2

She looks at me for a long moment. I wait for the fear to set in. The realization of what I am, what I'm capable of. The moment she decides I'm too dangerous, too broken, too much like the violence I was trained for.

Instead, she crosses the space between us and wraps her arms around my waist.

"Thank you." The words are muffled against my chest. "For protecting me. For giving me the chance to face him. For not killing him even though he deserved it."

I set down my rifle and hold her. She's shaking, I realize. Delayed reaction. The fear she didn't let herself feel while Derek was here, hitting her all at once now that the threat is gone.

"You're safe." I press my lips to the top of her head. "He's never touching you again. Never coming near you. I promise."

"I know." She tilts her face up to look at me. Her eyes are wet but her jaw is set. "I know, Wolfe. Because you won't let him."

"No. I won't."

We stand there in the cold, holding each other, until her shaking stops and the sun breaks through the clouds for the first time in days. Valentine's Day. A holiday I've ignored for years, dismissed as commercial garbage for people who had something to celebrate.

Now I have something to celebrate.

"Come on." I release her reluctantly. "We need to give our statements. And you need shoes."

She looks down at her bare feet, half-buried in snow, and laughs. It's a watery sound, still edged with shock, but real. Alive.

"I was worried about you. Didn't stop to think about shoes."

"You were supposed to stay inside."

"I'm not good at doing what I'm told." She grins up at me. "You should know that by now."

I shake my head, but I'm smiling. Actually smiling, for the second time today. She's turning me into someone I don't recognize.

Someone I might actually like being.

Back inside the cabin, she dresses properly while I secure my weapons. The drive to the Guardian Peak compound takes twenty minutes, and I spend most of it with one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped around hers. Neither of us speaks. We don't need to.

At the compound, we give our statements to Sheriff Tom Parker, a grizzled man with sharp eyes who's worked with Guardian Peak before. He takes notes, asks clarifying questions, and doesn't bat an eye at the violence of the encounter.

"Open and shut self-defense," he concludes. "Whitmore drew first, you responded with appropriate force. Combined with the stalking evidence, he's looking at multiple felonies. Federal charges too, given the interstate component."

"What about his money? His lawyers?" Sadie's voice is tight.

"Won't help him. Not with this much documentation.

Your friend Mace is very thorough." Parker closes his notebook.

"He'll be in custody by end of day. Arraignment tomorrow.

I'd recommend you file for a protective order, but honestly, with the charges he's facing, he won't be seeing the outside of a cell for a long time. "

Sadie sags against me. Relief, I think. The weight of three months of fear finally lifting.

"Thank you," she says.

Parker nods. "Thank your boyfriend. Most people don't have a sniper on speed dial."

Boyfriend. The word lands in my chest and stays there. I don't correct him. Neither does Sadie.

By the time we make it back to my cabin, the sun is setting. The bloodstained snow has been covered by fresh powder, nature erasing the evidence of the day's violence. Inside, the fire is cold, the air still.

I build a new fire while Sadie curls up on the couch, watching me with heavy eyes. The adrenaline crash is hitting her hard. Hitting me too, if I'm honest, though I'm better at ignoring it.

"Hey." Her voice is soft. "Come here."

I finish with the fire and join her on the couch. She immediately tucks herself against my side, her head on my shoulder, her hand resting over my heart.

"So." She traces idle patterns on my chest. "What happens now?"

"Now you rest. You've had a hell of a day."

"I mean with us. What happens with us?"

The question I've been avoiding. The one that requires me to think past the immediate crisis, past the next threat, past the tactical considerations that have defined my life for two decades.

"What do you want to happen?"

She's quiet for a moment. "I don't want to leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever." A pause. "Is that crazy?"

"Probably."

"Is that a problem?"

I turn my head to look at her. This woman who fell into my life three days ago and rewrote everything I thought I knew about myself. Who sees the killer in me and chooses to stay anyway. Who makes silence feel full instead of empty.

"No." I press a kiss to her forehead. "That's not a problem."

"Good." She snuggles closer. "Because I meant what I said earlier. About not wanting to wait. About wanting you. All of it."

"I know."

"And you meant what you said? About this not being casual?"

"I meant it." I tighten my arm around her. "You're mine now, Sadie. For as long as you'll have me."

"Yours." She tests the word, then smiles against my chest. "I like the sound of that."

So do I.

We stay on the couch as the fire crackles and the night settles around us. Eventually, she falls asleep, her breathing deep and even, her body relaxed against mine for the first time since she arrived.

I don't sleep. I watch her instead, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the fan of her lashes, the small sounds she makes as she dreams. Three days. That's all it took for this woman to dismantle every wall I built.

And I don't want them back.

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