Page 82 of The Scout

He growled, his hand slipping under my stomach, between my legs, his fingers finding my clit, circling, teasing, sending me hurtling toward the edge.

“Come for me, Isabel.”

His voice was a command, a promise, a possession.

And I did.

I shattered around him, my body tightening, trembling, pleasure exploding through me in waves so intense I could barely breathe.

Ryker groaned, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper, until he was spilling inside me with a low, guttural growl, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me close, holding me as we came down together.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of our ragged breaths, the steady beat of hisheart against my back, the warmth of him still inside me.

Then—his lips brushed my shoulder, his voice low, gruff. “I’ve had you so many times now, but it’s never enough. Never, Isabel. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, then shivered, my stomach flipping, my chest tightening with something terrifying and beautiful all at once.

Later, when we were tangled together, our bodies spent, I reached for the notepad on the nightstand, flipping to a blank page.

Ryker watched me, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing?”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the pen. “Writing a letter.”

His eyes darkened. “To who?”

I swallowed, staring at the blank page. “Pia. In case …”

His jaw clenched. “No.”

I turned to him, my chest tightening. “Ryker, I?—”

“No.” His hand covered mine, stopping the pen. “You’re not writing a goodbye letter.”

I exhaled, pressing my lips together. “Then can I at least call her?”

I needed to hear Pia’s voice. I needed to feel connected to something outside of Dominion Hall, outside of this mission.

Ryker’s expression was unreadable. For a long moment, I thought he’d say no. Then, finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Go ahead.”

Relief flooded my chest.

“But keep it vague,” he warned. “No details. No risk.”

I nodded, reaching for my phone, but before I coulddial, Ryker’s hand closed over mine, stilling my movements. My eyes flicked up to his, finding something different in his expression now.

“There’s something you need to know,” he said, his voice quieter.

I swallowed. “What?”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “We got proof of life.”

A shiver skated down my spine. “Proof?”

His jaw flexed. “A photo. Of Will.”

The words settled between us, heavy and sharp.

I braced myself. “How bad?”

---