Page 105 of Rupture

She exhaled and let herself lean against Finn’s shoulder. His slow, even breaths grounded her, a quiet reassurance that he was still here. Alive. His injuries—crushed leg, burns—had taken their toll, but he was healing. Her Finn was strong.

This man had fought his way back from his past to be with her.

His fingers found hers, tangling together in her lap, his thumb tracing deliberate strokes over her skin. A silent promise of his protection. Care.Love.

He was her safe harbor in a world that had tilted on its axis and, against all odds, righted itself again. She squeezed his hand, returning the emotion.

Nik banked the helicopter in a gentle circle, giving them a bird's-eye view.

“Well, shit.” Luca’s low voice carried over the comms. Heleaned forward in his seat, his leg stilling. “Look who rolled out the welcome wagon.”

Rose followed his line of sight, her stomach cramping.

Below, five black SUVs gleamed in the morning sun, clustered near the Wolves’ command tent like patient predators.

Margaret.

“The widow.” Liev gave a grunt of disgust. “Think she brought champagne to celebrate our survival, or pink slips?”

“Both,” Luca muttered. “You know the Widow. Likes to give with one hand, take with the other.”

Finn turned to Rose, his lips skimming her ear. “She can’t touch you now.”

God, she hoped so. MARV. The lab. Her team. Gina.

“Hey.” Luca’s usual expression was replaced by something fiercer. “Finn’s right. This whole nanobot nightmare? It’s radioactive. No one wants it hitting the press that the world almost ended because the OSC’s secret research robo-bunnies escaped their cage. This gets buried deeper than Dragon’s Breath.”

“Preparing to land.” Ethan’s steady voice carried from the cockpit. “Trays up, ladies and gentlemen.”

The engine note deepened as they descended. Desert dirt billowed beneath them, ochre clouds tinting the morning light. The helicopter settled with a gentle bump as Nik and Ethan worked their shutdown sequence.

Finn helped her remove the bulky headset. He drew her close until all she could smell was leather and smoke. “The Widow only looks out for herself. But we’ve got your back.”

She gripped his collar, breathing him in. “I know.”

He took her hand and helped her from the helicopter, following the rest of the team. Wind whipped coarse sandagainst her bare arms. She saw now there were four SUVs, but the fifth was a transport van.

He took her hand and helped her from the helicopter, his weight shifting noticeably as he favored his injured leg on the descent. A brief grimace flashed across his face but he masked it quickly, following the rest of the team with a hitch in his stride.

As if on cue, doors opened. Twelve men emerged from three of the SUVs—heavy-set, faces carved from stone.

Rose’s pulse quickened, but around her the Wolves remained loose and casual. Luca scuffed patterns in the dirt with his boot. “She sure likes to make an entrance.”

“Keeps us on our toes,” Duke rolled his shoulders, punching one hand into his open fist.

Liev snorted. “What are we, fucking ballet dancers?”

A driver opened the rear door of the fourth SUV. Finn shifted infinitesimally closer to Rose. The Wolves had positioned themselves around her without seeming to move at all.

Margaret emerged from the vehicle.

She wore white stiletto boots that somehow didn’t sink into the ground, silk pants flowing with each step, an ivory blouse with dramatic sleeves. Just as their first meeting, she was viciously elegant. The wind caught her clothes, and for an instant, she was a bird of prey, white wings spread.

Rose fought the urge to smooth her hair. Her borrowed t-shirt hung loose on her frame, crumpled and misshapen. She scratched a scabbed-over scrape, aware of red mud still clinging to her laces.

But when she glanced at the men flanking her, there was no judgment on their faces. The Wolves stood easy but alert, weapons riding their lean hips with laid-back deadliness.

Their clothes bore the same battle grime as hers.

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