Chapter 56
Callum
We were wreckage—no other word for it. Quinn’s arm was torn up somethin’ awful, Basen had taken a blow to the ribs that made him cough blood every time he moved, and Emerson was runnin’ on fumes with a bullet graze across his temple.
We were lucky, if you could call it that, but lucky in the way survivors always are—at someone else’s expense.
I’d carried Mallin’s body out meself. Bastard tried to kill me, nearly succeeded, but there was history in those eyes. The devil in him died starin’ me down like I was still that feral thing he’d raised from blood and grit. I didn’t feel triumph. Only weight.
The safehouse Quinn managed to secure was a gutted-out property near the coast—nothing more than an old fisherman’s shack with two rooms, busted windows, and a creaky floor.
But it had a roof, a door that locked, and no digital footprint.
Kieran held it down and safe while we were on the mission. That’d have to be enough.
Basen was out cold on a mattress on the floor, Emerson hunched over a bottle of antiseptic, swearin’ under his breath. I sat on the porch, watchin’ the sea crash in darkness, thinkin’ how close it had all come to endin’.
And Sera… she hadn’t spoken much. Not really. Just did what had to be done, eyes like glass, all that fire dulled by ash .
We didn’t lose her, I kept remindin’ meself. We didn’t lose her. But somethin’ in her was cracked. The way she’d looked at that console, hands dancin’ over keys like her soul was on the line—hell, maybe it was.
But it wasn’t just the mission that haunted her. I knew that look. It was the weight of survivin’ when others hadn’t. Of realizin’ you’re still breathin’ and wonderin’ why.
And then there was the feelin’ that we weren’t alone.
Not just ghosts behind our eyes—real watchers. The kind who don’t blink, don’t miss a thing. Emerson caught a spike in drone surveillance on our way out—unmarked, military-grade eyes-in-the-sky. Facility E hadn’t been the top. There was someone above Langston. Someone who saw what Seraphina did.
They knew she was alive.
And now, they’d want her.
Seraphina
I shut the door quietly behind me, the dull click sounding louder in the silence between us. Callum was already lying on the bed—if you could call the old frame and mattress that—shirt off, a bottle of water clutched in his hand like he wasn’t sure what else to do with it.
His eyes found me fast. Always did.
I hesitated near the foot of the bed. “You okay? ”
He didn’t answer right away. Just patted the space beside him, gaze softer than I expected.
I climbed in without another word.
The mattress groaned, but neither of us said a damn thing. It was like every breath had weight now. The kind of silence that wrapped around bones and stitched itself into your skin.
I stared at the ceiling. My chest was too tight. My heart felt like it was beating in someone else’s body.
“I should’ve seen it,” I whispered. “That they were still out there. That it wasn’t over.”
Callum rolled onto his side to face me. “We weren’t ready to see it, love. Doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. “But I survived. And they didn’t. Patrick, those techs, all the people in the lower levels. I pressed a button and ruined everything for them.”
“You didn’t ruin anythin’. You exposed what they were hidin’. You gave us a chance.”
My eyes burned, but I didn’t let it fall apart. Not all the way. Not yet. “I don’t know how to carry this. I thought I did. I thought I was ready for it.”
He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “You’re stronger than you think. But even the strongest can break.”
I turned to face him, my other hand brushing over his chest, down to the scar that jagged across his ribs. I hadn’t seen it before. He didn’t flinch when I touched it, but his jaw ticked.
“Callum…” I whispered.
He closed his eyes. “That one’s from when I tried to run. Back before I even had a name worth speakin’. They cut it into me as a reminder not to try again.”
“God…” My throat tightened.
He opened his eyes again, and they were haunted. But soft. “But I did. And I’ll keep runnin’. Just not alone anymore.”
That cracked something open in me. That stubborn wall I kept up, even with him. I leaned in slowly, brushing my lips against his.
It started tentative—soft, like we were still learning the shape of each other. But then it deepened. His hand cradled the back of my neck, and mine slid across his jaw. The kiss turned slow, warm, bruising in the way it made everything else fade.
I climbed over him, straddling his waist, our bodies fitting like they’d been made for this exact moment. His hands moved to my hips, grounding me, anchoring us both.
We rocked slowly against each other, a friction that wasn’t desperate, but intimate. His mouth trailed along my collarbone, and I buried my fingers in his hair, holding on like the world would spin out if I let go.
And maybe it would’ve.
But we didn’t rush it. Didn’t need to. The kiss slowed. Our breath evened out. I rested my forehead against his, our hearts still racing.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured .
And I believed him.
I curled into his chest, still straddling his lap, the rise and fall of his breathing lulling me into sleep.
The war wasn’t over. But right here, for tonight—we were alive.
And that had to count for something.