Page 90 of Rupture

The honesty in his voice lifted goosebumps on her arms, made her heart stumble out a frantic beat.

This man.

“I’d like that very much.” She pushed herself up, the sheet falling to her waist, caught in the gravity of his gaze. Her palm found his cheek, thumb catching against his unshaven beard.

His pupils dilated, darkening his eyes to midnight blue. Muscle tensed along his jaw as he leaned in, hesitating a breath away. The moment stretched. Rose closed the final distance, meeting his lips with gentle pressure.

Time slowed, measured only by the flutter of her pulse and the warmth of his palm as it slid up her arm to cradle the back of her neck.

He kissed her like she was infinitely precious. His lips, his touch, an act of adoration.

The sharp beep of his phone shattered the connection.

With a low groan, he pulled away, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as he reached for it. “Sorry. I have to take this.” Swiping the screen open, he brought it to his ear. “Ethan?”

“Finn. Rose with you?”

She glanced away, pretending she couldn’t hear.

Finn coughed. “Um...”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

His gaze landed on her when she looked back and she blinked, warmth creeping up her neck. She wanted him to know what he meant to her. How ready she was to move forward, to find a way to be with him.

“Thea’s turned up.” Static crackled through the speaker. “Middle of the desert. Some student archeologists found her. Sending you the coordinates now. We’re en route.”

The name hit like a physical blow. Her fingertips instantly cold where they gripped the sheet. The morning’s warmth blown away as if Ethan had opened a window to winter.

Thea was alive.

51

The rentedjeep bounced across the uneven terrain, each jolt making the vehicle’s frame shudder and leaving clouds of orange dust in their wake. Rose braced her hand against the dash, stealing glances at Finn as he navigated around patches of scrub brush.

Dawn splashed the sky in watercolor strokes of rose gold, transforming the harsh landscape into something almost magical. Her skin still hummed where Finn had touched her just hours ago, and even now, racing toward uncertainty, the lingering warmth kindled something deep in her chest.

She’d achieved so much with MARV, earned respect for her research, but those victories had been like pressing her face against a window and watching life happen on the other side. Now, with desert light warming her face and Finn beside her, she felt truly awake for the first time in years. Like she’d been moving through the world in gray-scale, and he’d suddenly switched on the color.

Her seatbelt snapped taut as another bump jarred them, the jolt bringing her thoughts back to their destination. Thearchaeological dig waited somewhere ahead, and with it, Thea. The situation twisted in her mind like a Rubik’s cube that wouldn’t align. Thea had always moved like a chess master, each step calculated three moves ahead. But the empty stretch of wilderness before them made no sense in any game Rose could imagine.

“Hey.” Finn’s hand bridged the space between them, his strong fingers threading through hers. Her throat tightened at the gesture. She lifted his hand to her lips, pressed them against his scarred knuckles. His scent of gun oil and leather wrapped around her.

He rubbed his thumb over her fingers. “We’re almost there.” A cluster of faded tents shimmered on the horizon like a mirage.

She squeezed his fingers and nodded, locking down the maelstrom of emotion he’d brought to life within her as her pulse kicked up.

“You ready for this?”

A laugh stuck in her throat. Had she ever been ready for the hurricane that was her sister?Never.

She forced her lips into a smile. “Of course.”

Finn parked at the edge of the encampment. Beige tents sprouted from the desert floor in a rough circle, canvas walls flapping in the gritty breeze. A beaten path through the outer tents opened onto a central gathering space. Wooden tables, weathered gray by sun and sand, ringed a fire pit where embers still glowed beneath a blackened pot. The rich aroma of spiced meat made her empty stomach grumble. Breakfast had been lukewarm coffee and a pastry grabbed at the hotel.

Young archaeologists bent over ancient vases, wielding small brushes with surgical precision among the careful rows of artifacts in clear bags. Several tables stood empty,waiting for new discoveries. One student looked up as they entered. A woman. Her gaze skimmed past Rose before freezing on Finn. Her brush stilled mid-stroke, mouth parting as she took in the gun holster riding low on his lean hips, the dark lines of ink visible beneath his short sleeves, the lethal grace of his stance.

Heat flared under Rose’s skin, not entirely from the desert sun.

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