Page 57 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

“Because if you don’t,” I said, my tone cold, “you’ll regret it.”

It took time—long,tense moments filled with threats, counterthreats, and the occasional reminder of just how outmatched Jared was. But eventually, he broke. His arrogance gave way to self-preservation, and the details spilled out.

He told us about The Fold’s inner workings, their resources, their leadership. Every piece of intel we’d been missing fell into place, painting a picture of an organization far more fractured than we’d realized. It was enough to dismantle them completely.

As Jared’smen were subdued and taken out by Marco’s crew, I turned to Hudson, my chest tight with the weight of everything we’d just uncovered. His gaze met mine, steady and unwavering, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of hope.

“It’s done,” Hudson said, his voice steady. “The Fold’s finished.”

And for the first time, I believed him.

Chapter Forty-Two

Hudson

The morning after everything fell apart—and then came together—felt surreal. The warehouse raid, Jared’s interrogation, and the dismantling of The Fold had all blurred into a single, chaotic memory. The adrenaline that had carried me through it was gone now, leaving behind a strange mix of exhaustion and relief.

I stood outside the community center, watching as people trickled in and out. The aftermath of The Fold’s threat still hung in the air, a reminder of how close we’d come to losing so much. Volunteers bustled about, setting up tables and handing out supplies. A few kids chased each other around the playground, their laughter cutting through the quiet tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Naomi was inside, helping to organize donations. She’d insisted on being here today, even though I could see the fatigue in her eyes. She always had this drive to help, this endless well ofcompassion that made her push herself harder than anyone I’d ever known. It was one of the things I admired most about her.

I leaned against the side of the truck, my hands shoved into my pockets as I watched her through the window. She was smiling, her movements quick and efficient as she sorted through boxes. Even after everything we’d been through, she carried herself with a quiet strength that never ceased to amaze me.

When she finally stepped outside,the sunlight caught in her hair, making her look almost ethereal. She spotted me and waved, her smile softening as she approached.

“Taking a break?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Waiting for you,” I said, shrugging. “Thought you might need some air.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re the one who looks like you could use a break.”

“I’m fine,” I said, though I knew she could see through me.

She leaned against the truck beside me, her shoulder brushing against mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just watched the activity around us, the quiet hum of life continuing despite the chaos we’d left behind.

“They’re going to be okay,” she said finally, her voice soft. “The people here. They’re strong.”

“They are,” I agreed. “Because of you.”

She glanced at me, her brow furrowing. “Me?”

“You kept them safe,” I said. “You gave them hope when they needed it most.”

She looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “It wasn’t just me, Hudson. It was all of us. You, Marco, everyone.”

“Maybe,” I said, turning to face her. “But you were the heart of it, Naomi. You always are.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I’m giving you enough,” I said, my voice soft but firm.

The restof the day passed in a blur of small tasks and quiet moments. Naomi and I worked side by side, helping where we could and listening to the stories of those who’d been affected by The Fold. Each person had their own struggles, their own fears, but there was a sense of resilience in the air that gave me hope.

As the sun began to set, the crowd started to thin. Naomi and I found a spot near the edge of the playground, sitting on a weathered bench as the last rays of light dipped below the horizon.

“Do you ever think about what’s next?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“All the time,” I said, leaning back against the bench. “It’s hard not to.”

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