Chapter 12
TWELVE
ROWAN
I wake up warm. That’s the first thing I notice, before my brain can catch up to reality. Warmth at my back, a solid arm draped over my waist, a slow steady breath at the nape of my neck.
Sin.
My body settles into it like it’s always belonged there.
Which is terrifying. Because I’m not supposed to be the woman who falls in love in the middle of a threat assessment.
I’m supposed to be the woman who writes the threat assessment, names names, and publishes it with a bow.
But the last few days have done something to me.
The safe house. The drills. The way he watches the world like he’s decided it won’t get to touch me.
The way he touched me like he was starving and still found the strength to stop when he needed to.
My chest aches in that quiet way that isn’t fear. It’s wanting.
I lie still for a moment, listening to the house breathe around us. Early morning quiet. The faint creak of wood. The soft hush of trees outside. A bird call somewhere distant.
Sin’s hand tightens slightly at my waist, as if even asleep he’s checking I’m still here.
I turn carefully in his arms, slow enough not to jostle him.
His face is softer in sleep. Less sharp. The scar near his cheekbone is still there, but it looks like part of him instead of a warning. His lashes rest against his skin. His mouth is relaxed, and my stupid brain thinks, You could kiss him right now.
I inhale instead, filling my lungs with the scent of him. Clean. Warm. A trace of soap. Something faintly woodsy that clings to his skin like the safe house itself. My heart squeezes. This is the problem. I feel safe with him. Safe enough that I can feel everything else too.
The betrayal. The rage. The need to do something other than sit here while Cal’s team “handles it.” I shift again, and the familiar thought hits me like a jolt.
Randy O’Connell.
My boss.
My mentor.
The man who clapped me on the shoulder after my first big piece ran and said, “That’s how you tell the truth, kid.
” He put spyware on my phone. He fed my location to a corporate security team.
He helped orchestrate intimidation meant to scare me into silence.
My stomach twists violently, and the warmth of Sin’s arms can’t keep that out. I can’t sit in this house today.
I can’t.
If I keep waiting, the anger will rot into something useless. If I keep waiting, the story will become someone else’s version of events. If I keep waiting, Randy will find a way to disappear or twist the narrative or claim he was helping me. And I’ll never know why. Or how deep it goes.
I need to look him in the eyes. I need to hear him say it. And maybe, if there’s any shred of the man I trusted left in him, I can push him hard enough to flip. Give up the corporation’s location. Their security contractor. Their leverage file. Something. Enough to end this.
My fingers tighten on Sin’s forearm. He stirs, not fully awake, breath shifting against my hair. I whisper, “Sin.”
A low sound rumbles in his chest. Not a word yet.
I try again, gentle but firm. “Sin. Wake up.”
His eyes open, immediately alert, like sleep is just a shallow pool he never fully steps into. He scans the room in one sweep, then focuses on me. “Rowan,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
My throat tightens at the way he says my name. Like it matters. I press my palm against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my hand. “I need to do something.”
His gaze sharpens. “What?”
“I need to go to the office,” I say.
The stillness that follows is instant. Sin’s body goes rigid beneath me. His arm tightens at my waist, not in comfort now. In restraint. “No,” he says, flat.
I sit up slightly, still in his hold. “Hear me out.”
“No.”
“Sin.”
He shifts, propping himself up on an elbow, eyes hard now. “We stay put. Cal said stay put.”
“I know what Cal said,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. “But I can’t sit here while my boss plays innocent. I trusted him. I need answers.”
Sin’s jaw flexes. “You want answers, you wait for Cal’s team to bring them.”
“I want answers from him,” I insist. “From his mouth. If I can talk to him, maybe I can convince him to give up the corporation’s location. Their contractor. The leverage. Anything. We can end this.”
Sin stares at me like I just asked him to juggle knives. “That’s not how blackmail works,” he says. “He’s cornered. He’ll lie. He’ll deny. Or he’ll panic and do something worse.”
“That’s why you’d be with me,” I argue.
His eyes narrow. “I’m with you now.”
“And I’m losing my mind,” I shoot back, then soften because this isn’t a fight I want to win by force. “Sin, please. I can’t just wait. I need to try.”
Sin exhales slowly, controlled. “You want to walk back into the place where he has access, resources, and a network. You want to confront him in his territory.”
“My territory too,” I say fiercely. “That office is mine. That desk is mine. Those files are mine. He doesn’t get to take that from me.”
Sin’s gaze flicks over my face, reading me the way he always does. Anger. Hurt. Determination. And something else. Loneliness. Because betrayal does that. It isolates you. It makes you feel like the world is full of people wearing masks.
I swallow hard. “If I don’t do something, I’m going to feel powerless. And I refuse to let him make me powerless.”
Sin’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel his grip loosen slightly. Not agreement. Consideration.
“You’re thinking,” I say.
“I’m assessing,” he replies.
“Same thing,” I mutter automatically, then catch myself. Not the time.
Sin sits up fully, running a hand over his face. He looks exhausted for half a second before the control slides back into place. “You’re not going alone,” he says.
Relief hits so hard I almost cry. I don’t. I blink it back. “I don’t want to leave you stranded,” I say quickly. “I know your brothers need you. I know you’re already stretched.”
His eyes lock on mine. “You’re not stranding me. You’re my mission.”
My chest tightens again, warm and painful. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” he says. “But listen to me. If we do this, we do it my way.”
I nod immediately. “Yes.”
Sin’s gaze sharpens. “Don’t agree until you hear the rules.”
“I’ll still agree,” I admit.
His mouth tightens like he’s trying not to smile. “That’s a problem.”
“It’s a personality trait,” I counter.
He exhales once, like I’m wearing him down with sheer stubbornness. “Fine. We go. But this isn’t a confrontation. This is reconnaissance.”
I frown. “I want to talk to him.”
“You don’t,” he corrects. “Not yet.”
My frustration flares. “Sin.”
He holds up a hand. “Rule one. You don’t walk up to him. You don’t corner him. You don’t accuse him to his face in a public space. Not until we know where his loyalties sit in the moment.”
“But—”
“Rule two,” he continues, voice firm. “You don’t go anywhere alone. Not to the bathroom. Not to grab something from your desk. Not to ‘just check one thing.’ You stay in my line of sight.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
“Rule three. We keep this low profile. We get in, we look for anything useful, and we get out.”
My mind races. “How are we getting in unnoticed?”
Sin’s eyes narrow slightly, like he’s already planned the logistics. “We’re going to approach from the back entrance. Service access. Less traffic. I’ll cover. You’ll move.”
I stare at him. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”
“I have,” he says. That sends a chill up my spine. He leans closer, gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping up to meet my eyes. “Rule four. If I say move, you move. No questions. No argument. If I say down, you get down. If I say run, you run. You trust me?”
I swallow. “I do trust you.”
His eyes flicker. “Good. Because this is the part where trust keeps you alive.”
I nod, heartbeat pounding.
Sin stands, already shifting into mode. He crosses the room, starts pulling on clothes with quick efficiency. Shirt. Pants. Belt. Holster. The sight of him gearing up does something to me. It’s a strange mix of fear and excitement.
This is real.
This is happening.
I throw the blanket back and get up too, suddenly hyper-aware I’m wearing his shirt and nothing else.
Sin’s gaze drags over me for half a second, dark and heated, then he looks away like he’s forcing himself to remember the mission.
I swallow, heat creeping into my cheeks.
“Get dressed,” he says, voice rougher than it should be.
“I was going to,” I mutter.
“Something you can run in,” he adds.
I nod and head for my bag, hands shaking slightly as I pull out jeans and sneakers. My mind is racing with images of Randy’s face, my office, the newsroom, the story draft I left behind. I want to walk in and slam the truth on his desk.
But Sin is right. If Randy is cornered, he’ll lash out.
He’s not a cartoon villain. He’s a man under pressure who made a choice.
Men like that do dangerous things when they’re exposed.
I lace my shoes, take a breath, and look up at Sin.
He’s watching me, expression unreadable, but his eyes are sharp and protective.
“You hate this,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t deny it. “Yes.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
Sin’s gaze holds mine, and for a moment the room feels too quiet. “Because you won’t stop,” he says.
I blink. “That’s not—”
“And because you’re right about one thing,” he cuts in.
I wait.
He steps closer, lowering his voice. “There might be something at your office that helps Cal’s team close this fast. Evidence. A file. A device. Something your boss kept close.”
My pulse kicks. “So you think it’s worth the risk?”
“I think you’re going to go whether I agree or not,” he says bluntly. “So I’d rather be the one controlling the risk.”
My chest warms. “That’s… kind of sweet in a terrifying way.”
“Don’t call it sweet,” he mutters.
I smile, quick and nervous. “Okay. Tactical protectiveness. Very manly.”
Sin’s mouth tightens. “You ready?”
I nod, then hesitate. “If we find something… do I get to talk to him?”
Sin studies me, then gives a single controlled nod. “If it’s safe. If we can do it without putting you in the crosshairs.”
Relief hits hard. “Thank you.”
Sin looks away like gratitude makes him uncomfortable. “Final rule,” he says, stepping toward the door. “If you get the urge to be brave, be smart instead.”
I follow him, heart pounding. “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Sin glances back at me. “With you, they tend to be.”
I glare. “Rude.”
He opens the door, scans outside, and gestures for me to move first. I step through the door and into the morning air as we head out. The world is pale with early light, the trees washed in gray-blue, the quiet still heavy. We head to the airport, boarding a plane that sits waiting for us.
Sin moves beside me like a shadow made solid.
And even though fear is buzzing under my skin, even though I know this could go sideways, I also know this.
I’m not alone anymore. Not with him at my side.
Not with his steady presence making my heart believe, even in the middle of betrayal and danger, that we might actually win.