Page 41 of Saving Meri

She didn’t feel relief. Not yet. But she didn’t feel regret, either.

“Meri.”

Her name was a low growl, threaded with dominance, with something dark and satisfied. She turned to find Bear watching her from across the lawn, blood streaked across his forearm, his vest scuffed from the fight. He looked lethal, every inch the warrior who had cut through DeLuca’s men with ruthless precision, but his focus was entirely on her.

His gaze swept her, taking in every inch, his eyes burning with something deeper than approval. It was pride. Satisfaction. Possession.

She wasn’t a victim anymore. She wasn’t something fragile to protect.

The realization hit harder than the battle itself, harder than the gunfire or the fight she had spent so long anticipating. She had earned her place—not as some broken thing Bear had rescued, but as something far stronger. And Bear knew it.

Her fingers tightened around the gun. “He’s dead.”

Bear stepped closer, closing the space between them in slow, deliberate strides. “Yes, he is.”

He didn’t touch her. Not yet. He let her stand there, let her own the moment, the victory, the final severing of the past that had haunted her. He waited.

Meri lifted her chin. “I don’t regret it.”

Bear’s lips curved slightly, his voice low and rough. “Good.”

Then, and only then, did he reach for her. His fingers closed around her wrist, gently prying the gun from her grasp. She let him take it, not because she couldn’t hold it, but because she didn’t need to anymore. He flipped on the safety and tucked it into his waistband, lifting his other hand to her face, his thumb brushing her temple, before trailing down to trace her jaw.

Bear exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening at her jaw. “You’re fucking perfect, little one.”

A tremor passed through her—not fear, never fear with him. Just something deep, something visceral, something that made her pulse hammer against her ribs. He tilted her chin up, his breath ghosting over her lips, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet.

“You came for me,” she murmured.

Bear’s gaze darkened. “Always.”

A sharp whistle cut through the tension, pulling them both back to the present.

Fitz strode up to them, rifle slung over his shoulder, his face grim but satisfied. “The compound is secure. We’re cleaning up. Archer’s in the east wing handling the last few holdouts.” His gaze flicked between them, assessing, before landing on Bear. “DeLuca’s on the run.”

Meri felt the shift in Bear instantly. The change in his stance, the lethal calm that settled over him like a predator who had finally locked eyes on his prey. He released her, his fingers trailing down her arm before he turned away.

“Where?”

Fitz jerked his head toward the south entrance. “When his man fell, he took the SUV and headed to a set of tunnels. We found a passage leading out beneath the compound. He’s got maybe a five-minute head start.”

Bear’s expression didn’t change. “Not enough.”

He turned to Meri, his hand cupping the back of her neck, grounding her, as if making sure she was still solid. Still standing. Still his.

“Stay here.”

She should have argued. Should have pushed back. But she didn’t need to. Not this time. Because this wasn’t her fight anymore. It was his.

She nodded. “Go.”

Bear kissed her, hard and claiming, then released her and stalked out of the room, Fitz falling in beside him. Meri watched them go, a slow, steady pulse of something dark curling in her gut. She wasn’t worried about him.

Because Bear was hunting. And DeLuca was, in Bear’s mind, already dead.

DeLUCA

He jerked to a stop, jumping out of the SUV and heading into the tunnel. It was damp, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desperation. His footsteps echoed against the narrow stone walls, his breath ragged, panicked.

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