Page 81 of Rupture

He took it, crumpling it in his fist. “Fucking widow.”

Thea’s research still lay locked away in the Io. Secrets better left buried.Yet soon, they’d be forced to unearth them.

“Come on.” His hand settled at the small of her back. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

They took the elevator in silence, Rose leaning against him, fatigue seeping into her bones. The corridor stretched ahead, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps.

“This is your room.” Finn slid the credit-card sized key into the lock. The door swung open.

He turned to her, his eyes soft with concern. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering. “Get cleaned up. Rest. I’ll be next door if you need anything.”

The door closed behind him with a subdued click, leaving her alone.

The room was spacious. A massive white bed. Open French windows letting in the scented evening air. On the dressing table, a silver bucket of flowers with a card tucked beside it.

Rose picked up the card, turning it over in her fingers. The script was embossed, an elegant touch meant to imply sincerity.

Compliments of the OSC.

Her chin dipped.

How thoughtful. A lethal experiment, a cover-up, and now flowers. Like that erased the damage done to the crew or Luca and Finn’s injuries. Like that made any of it right.

She flipped the card over and left it facedown.

The pain in her head had dulled to a whisper, leaving room for other sensations to surface. She crossed to the window, letting the evening breeze skim her skin. Her skin was hypersensitive. Heated.

But not from the air.

From the man in the room next to hers.

Finn.

As the older sister, she’d spent years trying to be the fixer, the responsible one. Countless nights lying awake, strategizing ways to bridge the chasm between herself and Thea. But tonight, she wanted to claim something for herself. Something that couldn’t be measured in data points or family obligations.

The plastic edge of the room key dug into her palm as she stepped into the hall. Her feet carried her to his door before her mind could marshal its usual defenses. She raised her hand, pulse thrumming in her fingertips.

What if he turned her away?

The thought terrified her, but it wasn’t enough to make her retreat. She was tired of living in the shadow of Thea’s betrayal, of measuring her life against past wounds. And if science had taught her anything, it was sometimes the most significant discoveries came from taking risks.

She wanted to be seen not just as Dr. Rose Wyndham, scientist, but as a woman with desires she’d kept locked away for far too long.

Her knuckles met the door with three sharp raps before doubt could paralyze her.

The door swung open and her breath stalled, caught between one heartbeat and the next.

Dear God.

He filled the doorway like a force of nature, raw power radiating from his frame. Something primitive stirred deep in her belly in response. He’d discarded the sling, his injured arm now marked only by a dressing, white against his bruised skin.

She couldn’t help herself.

Her gaze tracked downward, drinking in the sight of him. The lean muscles of his chest, the sharp cut of his hip bones where his combat trousers rode dangerously low, turning her mouth dry.

His eyes were smoldering black coal as he stepped backward on bare feet, inviting her in.

Rose swallowed hard.

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