31. Finn’s POV
Finn’s POV
The waterfront was peaceful, and I think that memory will stay with me forever.
The waves rolled gently against the shore while the wind carried the smell of salt and cedar through the air. Beside me, Eli walked with his hands tucked into his pockets, talking about nothing and everything all at once. It wasn’t the exact conversation I remembered later. It was him.
For once, he wasn’t looking over his shoulder.
For once, he wasn’t scanning every passing car or every stranger who walked by.
For once… he was just Eli.
I glanced across at him and smiled to myself. He looked lighter. Not healed, not yet anyway, but lighter. Like he was finally starting to believe there might actually be a life waiting for him beyond Adrian. Eli deserved this peace more than anyone I’d ever known.
Then his phone buzzed.
I watched him read the message before his eyes immediately searched for CJ. The smile that spread across his face wasn’t forced.
It was real.
I followed his gaze to where CJ and Deck trailed behind us, giving us space while never really taking their eyes off Eli. CJ looked down at his own phone, waiting.
I chuckled.
Oh. That was cute.
Must be nice.
God… I wanted that.
With Deck.
Unfortunately, Deck and I were… complicated.
We’d kissed a couple of times. There had been Ass-Gate, which still lived rent-free in my head. One completely innocent smack on the ass from the world’s biggest, grumpiest ex-soldier, and suddenly I was questioning my entire personality.
Turns out, apparently I liked that. Who knew?
The problem was that every time I thought we’d finally crossed whatever invisible line Deck had drawn, he’d take one careful step backward again.
Always careful.
Always respectful.
Always pretending he wasn’t looking at me the same way I looked at him.
Mostly.
There were moments, though: his hand settling against my lower back as he guided me through a crowded room; his fingers resting on my shoulder while we worked side by side.
And the kiss. Holy fucking shit. Even thinking about it now sends a stupid flutter through my chest. I hated how much I wanted him.
I swore my entire nervous system rebooted. I just didn’t get why he was still holding himself back. The man had all the emotional availability of a brick wall wearing combat boots.
I was so busy trying to solve the mystery of Deck Mercer that I almost missed it.
The shift.
It wasn’t something I saw.
It was something I felt.
The waterfront suddenly didn’t feel peaceful anymore.
Every instinct my father had ever beaten into me rose to the surface without warning.
Danger.
Beside me, Eli went rigid at the same moment.
An SUV pulled in far too fast and stopped much too close.
Neither of us spoke. We didn’t have to. My heart rate spiked until I could feel it slamming against my ribs. Every instinct screamed at me to move. To protect. To survive.
I looked at Eli. He looked back at me.
We both knew.
Then the driver’s door opened.
The man stepped out with a handgun already raised.
“Get in.”
Everything narrowed, and my training took over before fear could. Eli and I moved together, stepping backward before spinning to run.
We never made it.
Hands exploded out of nowhere, grabbing both of us from behind.
I fought immediately.
So did Eli.
I heard him scream: “CJ!”
The fear in his voice wasn’t for himself; it was for the man he loved.
My own voice tore from my throat: “Deck!”
The world became fists and bodies.
For years, I’d hated what my father had turned me into: every sunrise training session, every bruise, every broken bone, every lesson about pain.
He hadn’t trained me because he loved me.
He’d trained me because he wanted a weapon he could control.
Useful. Disposable. Never his son. Just another tool.
But standing there, watching strangers drag Eli toward that SUV, I thanked the asshole for the first time in my life.
Because these men looked at me and saw exactly what everyone always saw: small, easy, harmless.
They didn’t see years of combat training.
They didn’t see every time I’d been thrown onto a mat until I learned how to get back up, or the boy who’d been taught how to survive men exactly like them.
One of them grabbed me, and I twisted underneath his arm, driving my elbow hard into his ribs.
He stumbled backward with a grunt.
There it was: the moment, the exact second he realized I’d lied to him without saying a single word. He’d mistaken my size for weakness.
Big fucking mistake.
I shoved past him, reaching for Eli.
Nothing else mattered.
Get Eli away.
Get him back to CJ.
Get him home.
The men forced us toward the SUV anyway.
I planted my feet, fought for every inch, and landed another strike, but there were simply too many of them.
Then I saw them.
CJ running, gun already drawn.
And beside him… Deck.
Our eyes met for the briefest second, and I’d never forget the look on his face.
Pure terror.
Not anger.
Not rage.
Fear. Real fear.
His hand reached toward me even though we were far too far apart. Like somehow, if he reached just a little farther, he could still stop them from taking me.
That look hit harder than any punch ever could.
Because in that single moment, I knew: he wasn’t scared for himself. He was scared of losing me. And the truth knocked the breath from my lungs. I didn’t know anyone could look at me like that.
The SUV door slammed shut between us, and the vehicle lurched forward.
And Deck disappeared behind a wall of steel.