Page 83 of The Scout

His fingers flexed against my thigh, like he wanted to hold back, like he wasn’t sure how much I could take. “Bad,” he admitted. “But not irreversible.”

I sucked in a slow breath, willing my stomach to stay steady. Will was tough. He was trained for this. And he was alive. That was the only thing that mattered.

I squared my shoulders, forcing the tremor from my voice. “Okay.”

Ryker’s gaze searched mine, like he was trying to gauge if I was really handling it or just pretending to be.

And maybe I was pretending. Maybe I’d fall apart later, when I wasn’t sitting in front of him, when I wasn’t fighting to keep myself together. But right now, I needed to be steady. Needed to be ready for whatever came next.

Because tomorrow, everything would change.

28

RYKER

Iwaited until Isabel finally fell asleep.

She was warm against me, her breath slow and even, her body relaxed in a way that told me she felt safe. That shouldn’t have mattered. Not with what was coming. Not with the war we were about to walk into. But it did. It mattered in a way I wasn’t ready to name.

Her leg was draped over mine, her arm curled against my chest, her fingers just barely brushing my skin. The scent of her was everywhere—soap and something softer, something her. It had settled into my sheets, into my skin, into my fucking head.

I should have gotten up the second I was sure she was out, but I didn’t. Instead, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying what she had said before sleep took her.

Marriage.

Bridesmaids.

She’d said it like a tease, like she was trying to rattle me, trying to see if I’d flinch. But the thing was?—

It didn’t scare me.

It should have. The idea of permanence, of forever, of someone like me taking something that good, that real, and trying to keep it without breaking it—that should have sent me running.

But it didn’t.

It fucking excited me.

The idea of her wearing my ring, of her being mine in every way, of her tied to me in something bigger than just bodies and instinct—it set something off in me, something I didn’t know how to shut down.

She would be mine. Forever.

And fuck, that made me want to wake her up. Made me want to roll her onto her back, slide between her legs, and ruin her all over again. Made me want to sink into her heat and let her feel what she did to me, how deep this ran, how there was no getting out of it now.

But there was work to do.

Carefully, I pulled away, sliding out of bed. She stirred slightly, shifting onto her stomach, but didn’t wake. My gaze traced the curve of her back, the way her hair fanned over the pillow, the way the moonlight caught on her skin.

Mine.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair before I turned away.

I pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed a clean shirt, and slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

The house was still awake. Dominion Hall never slept, not when we were on high alert, not when something like this was coming.

The war room was a controlled chaos—monitors glowing, men hunched over printouts, voices low but urgent. Maps of Folly Beach Pier were spread across thelong table, Elias running surveillance feeds while Charlie and Noah discussed alternate entry points.

I rolled my shoulders, stepping into the room.

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