Page 12 of Shadow's Edge

“You have got to be kidding me,” one of the Valiant guys clipped out, leaning forward like he was ready to come out of his seat.

I had heard Duke mention this place earlier. It’d been where they had found the bodies of a group of girls years ago, murdered, by the same monsters we were hunting now.

Kyle didn’t react to the outburst, just watched them with steady patience, waiting for them to process what that meant.

“Game on,” Match said, breaking the silence.

Kyle’s lips twitched, just slightly, before she stepped back, letting Preacher take over the rest of the briefing.

I shifted slightly in my seat, doing my best to conceal the hard-on that was now making my life difficult. It had beenthere all day, just from being around her. But watching her command a room, watching the way she worked—calm, confident,dangerouswithout needing to flex about it?

Yeah, that just made things awhole lot worse.

Chapter 4

Kyle

Steam still clung to my skin as I stepped out of the shower, exhaustion settling into my bones like a heavy weight. All I wanted was to collapse onto the bed, let sleep drag me under, and forget the day's chaos. But just as I reached for the towel to wrap around myself, a sharp knock echoed through the room.

Figuring it was Match, because who else would it be, I didn’t bother looking up.

“It’s open!” I called, already moving toward my duffel. My muscles ached from the long day, and all I wanted was something soft and comfortable to sleep in. “I think today went well, don’t you?” I said absently as I dug through my bag, pushing aside neatly folded clothes in search of a pair of shorts and a tank top.

My civilian bag, the one with the good stuff, was a rare luxury. Unlike my work gear, these clothes were actually nice—soft fabric, rich colors, and lace-trimmed edges. Hell, even my underwear in here felt like a treat. I pulled out a pair of yellow boy shorts, the kind that fit just right, and made me feel like I had a semblance of normalcy in the middle of all this madness.

“I’m kinda impressed with how many of them know what they’re doing,” I continued, slipping the shorts on under my towel. “And did you see Jagger shooting today? That man’s got some serious skills.” I heard movement behind me, but Match wasn’t much of a talker, so I didn’t expect an answer. He usually just grunted or nodded, so he was a silent presence I’d grown used to. Still rummaging, I found a tank top and pulled it over my head, shaking out my damp hair. “Duke says they have a couple of usable rifles with scopes on them, so that should give us an advantage tomorrow night. Which group are you going in with?”

The silence stretched out with not even a grunt from Match. That was weird.

With a sigh, I decided to just let it go. “Just get into bed, Match?—”

“What the fuck?”

The voice that cut through the room wasn’t the one I was expecting. It wasn’t the usual low, indifferent response I expected either. No, this voice was sharp, rough, and pissed.

My stomach lurched as I spun around, so fast I nearly lost my towel. Standing just inside the doorway, arms tense at his sides, was Jagger. His eyes burned into me, a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite place.

“Match?” He repeated, his voice tight, questioning, demanding.

Shit.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, gripping my towel tighter even though I was mostly dressed.

“I came to talk to you.” His jaw clenched tight as he explained and looked around the room. Then, with that same dangerous edge, he asked again, “Match?”

It took me a second to process, my mind sluggish from exhaustion. And then it hit me.

Oh!He thought Match was here. In my room. In my bed.

I swallowed hard. “Nightmares,” I explained, my voice quieter now.

Jagger’s expression flickered, his anger momentarily replaced with something else—confusion, maybe? His brows pulled together, and damn, even in the middle of a standoff, the man had good eyebrows.

“Nightmares?” he repeated, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.

I nodded slowly, watching as the tension in his shoulders shifted, like he was recalibrating. Like he wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off or something else entirely.

And that? That was almost more terrifying than the anger.

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