Chapter 61
Raine
The motel mirror was cracked in the corner, warping my reflection, but I didn’t need a perfect image to know I wasn’t the same woman who walked into this storm.
I tugged the dark shirt down over my bandaged ribs, cinched the borrowed tactical belt at my waist, and checked the holster Adam had given me. The pistol felt heavier than I remembered, but my grip was steady.
I wasn’t an Army Ranger or a SEAL. But I have fought in wars, and after last night, after the boy’s words about preserving organs, after the ridge… I wasn’t just someone to be protected anymore.
I was part of this fight.
The door clicked open, and Adam stepped inside. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes raking over me—slow, deliberate. Not the hungry way he had last night, but with something deeper. Something that mixed pride with fear.
“You sure?” he asked. His voice was low, but I caught the tight edge in it.
I lifted my chin. “I’m sure.”
He crossed the room, every step radiating tension, and stopped close enough that the heat of him seeped into my skin. His fingers brushed over my holster, then over the edge of the belt, checking, adjusting—little motions that were more about grounding himself than fixing gear.
“You look like you belong in the fight,” he murmured.
“I do belong,” I said, my hand closing over his.
For a moment, the room was quiet except for the hum of the light and the steady drum of our hearts. His thumb traced my knuckles, his eyes searching mine like he was memorizing me all over again.
“If anything happens to you—” His voice broke, rough.
“Adam.” I touched his face, feeling the stubble scrape against my palm. “We don’t get to live like that anymore. Not apart. Not in fear. We go in together. We come out together.”
His throat worked, but then he kissed me—slow, deep, reverent. The kind of kiss that wasn’t just about want, but about a vow. His forehead pressed to mine when it ended.
“Alright,” he whispered. “Together.”
I smiled faintly, though my chest tightened. “Now quit looking at me like I’m fragile. You’ve seen me take worse hits than this.”
He chuckled low, shaking his head. “You’re hell, Carter. Pure hell.”
I grinned. “And you love me for it.”
The knock at the door broke the moment. Hawk’s voice came through, clipped and steady: “Stoker. Time to move.”
Adam’s hand lingered at my waist for one last heartbeat before he pulled back. “Let’s finish this,” he said.
And just like that, we stepped out of the fragile cocoon of the motel room and back into the storm.