Chapter 9 Travis
nine
Travis
Hope Tower rises against the evening sky, Rebecca and Joseph's beacon sweeping its steady arc across the darkening forest. We made it.
Ruby meets us at the gate, her sharp eyes immediately looking for injuries. Mayson stands beside her, and I see the moment they both clock Hazel—the way she moves, the set of her shoulders, the pistol still tucked into her waistband.
"The raider cell you hit has been causing problems for months," Mayson says after brief introductions. "Taking them down will save lives."
"Hazel deserves the credit," I tell him. "That was her crew they ambushed."
"We all deserve it," Hazel corrects. "I couldn't have done it alone."
Ruby and Mayson exchange one of those married-couple glances that says more than words. Ruby gestures toward the main building. "We've got food and beds ready. You all look like hell. We can debrief tomorrow."
I expect to spend the evening going over raider patterns and security protocols. Instead, Ruby practically shoves us toward the guest quarters.
"Tomorrow," she says firmly when I try to protest. "You just survived an ambush and drove for eight hours. Rest. That's an order."
Mayson grins. "She's scary when she uses that tone. Trust me."
So we eat delicious hot food, prepared by Rebecca, better than anything we've had in weeks. The crew is exhausted, adrenaline crash hitting everyone at once. They drift to their rooms one by one.
Hazel and I are the last ones left, sitting in the common area with the remains of dinner between us.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Honestly? I don't know." She sets down her water. "I keep waiting for the panic to hit. The guilt, the fear. But instead I just feel tired. And relieved."
"That's normal."
"Is it?" She looks at me. "I shot someone today. Killed someone, probably. And I'm not falling apart."
"You defended yourself. Defended all of us."
"Tell that to the guy's family."
"The guy who was part of the group that killed your entire crew?" I move closer. "This isn't the same thing."
She's quiet for a moment. "I keep thinking about what you said. About honoring the dead by living. I think I finally get it."
"Yeah?"
"They died protecting something that mattered. The best way to honor that is to keep protecting it." She takes my hand. "Not by drowning in guilt. By doing the work."
"Exactly."
"So that's what I'm going to do." Her eyes meet mine. "Build this network with you. Help settlements. Train medics."
I pull her up. "Come on. Let's get some rest."
Rebecca set us up in adjoining rooms, but Hazel follows me into mine. The door closes, and suddenly we're alone for the first time since the ambush.
"We survived," she says.
"We did."
"I wasn't sure we would. When those motorcycles showed up, when you made that jump—" Her voice catches. "I thought that might be it."
"But it wasn't." I pull her closer. "We're here."
She kisses me, and there's relief in it—desperate gratitude for being alive. We're pulling at each other's clothes before we even make it to the bed.
I back her against the wall, my hands finding her breasts through her shirt. She gasps, arching into my touch.
We strip each other and when we're finally naked, I take a moment just to look at her. The healing wound on her shoulder. The bruises from today's chase. The flush spreading across her chest. Every mark a testament to her survival.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I tell her.
"I'm covered in bruises."
"Beautiful," I repeat, backing her toward the bed. "Every goddamn inch."
I lay her down and start at her throat, kissing and biting my way down her body. When I reach her breasts, I take my time, circling each nipple with my tongue, then sucking hard enough to make her back arch off the bed.
"Travis!"
"I almost lost you today." I move lower, pressing kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the jut of her hip bones. "So I'm taking my time. Memorizing every part of you."
"You can memorize later." Her hands fist in my hair, trying to guide me lower. "Right now I need your mouth on my pussy."
"Demanding." But I settle between her thighs, spreading her open with my thumbs. She's already wet, flushed and ready. "I like it."
I lick a slow stripe up her center, and she moans. God, I love that sound. Love the way she tastes, the way her hips buck when I circle her clit with my tongue.
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her gasp. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, hot and tight, and I work her with deliberate precision—tongue on her clit, fingers stroking deep, building her pleasure until she's trembling.
"Don't stop," she pants. "Fuck, Travis, don't stop—"
I don't. I suck her clit between my lips while thrusting my fingers faster, deeper, feeling her muscles start to flutter. She's close.
"Come for me, Hazel. Want to taste you when you come."
She shatters with a cry, her thighs clamping around my head as she pulses around my fingers. I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks fade, then kiss my way back up her body.
"Your turn," she says, breathless and flushed.
"Not yet." I position myself at her entrance, my cock hard and aching. "I need to be inside you first."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
I push in slowly, watching her face as I fill her. She's so tight, so perfect, and the feeling of being buried inside her makes my control waver.
"Fuck," I breathe. "You feel incredible."
"Move," she demands, wrapping her legs around my waist. "Please, Travis."
I start with long, slow strokes, savoring every sensation. But it's not enough—not for either of us. She digs her nails into my back, urging me faster, harder.
"More," she gasps. "I need more."
I give her what she needs. Drive into her with enough force to make the bed frame creak, angling to hit that spot deep inside that makes her cry out. Her pussy grips my cock with every thrust, hot and slick and perfect.
"I love you," I hear myself say. The words just come out, unplanned, undeniable. "Fuck, Hazel, I love you."
She goes still for a heartbeat, her eyes wide. Then she pulls me down for a kiss that's fierce and claiming.
"I love you too," she says against my mouth. "I love you too."
I thrust harder, deeper, one hand sliding between us to circle her clit. She's close again, I can feel it in the way she's tightening around me, the way her breath catches.
"Come with me," I tell her. "Want to feel you come on my cock."
"Travis!"
"Let go. I've got you."
She comes with my name on her lips, her whole body clenching around me. The sensation sends me over the edge. I bury myself deep and come hard, filling her as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
We collapse together, breathing hard, tangled and sweat-slicked. I stay inside her for a moment, neither of us ready to move.
"I meant it," I say. "What I said."
She's quiet for a beat. "I know. Me too."
"Even though it's been less than two weeks?"
"Especially because it's been less than two weeks." She shifts to look at me. "Normal doesn't exist anymore. Fast doesn't mean wrong."
"Fair point."
We clean up without talking much. She grabs one of my shirts to sleep in, and when she climbs into bed, I pull her against me.
"You're thinking too loud," she says after a minute.
"Just running scenarios. Tomorrow's debrief with Mayson, the route back, supply chain—"
"Travis."
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and go to sleep."
I almost laugh. "Yes ma'am."
She's out within minutes, her breathing evening out. I stay awake longer, staring at the ceiling.
It seems like a lifetime ago that I found her bleeding out on a road. Now I'm lying here thinking about futures that probably don't exist, making plans that assume we'll both survive long enough to see them through.
It's stupid. Reckless.
I don't care.
Tomorrow we'll deal with whatever comes next. But tonight she's warm against me and breathing steady, and that's enough.