Page 56 of Sanctuary

“Looks that way.” I ran a hand through my hair, exhaustion seeping into my bones. “Tomas knew he was dangerous. Which is crazy when you think about it as he was just as dangerous.”

Mia nodded slowly, processing this information. “Does Declan have it?”

“He knows where it is,” I confirmed, careful not to reveal more. “That’s why Matheson targeted him first, and now me, but I have no clue where it is.”

She was quiet for a moment, then looked up at me with renewed determination. “This will change everything. If we can get to that book before Matheson does, we could use it against him.”

“One step at a time,” I cautioned. “First, we survive tomorrow.”

I reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was becoming familiar, comforting in its simplicity. She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed briefly.

“You should rest,” I said gently. “Tomorrow will be... intense.”

She nodded but made no move to lie down. “I keep thinking about Wren,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “The way she looked at me when she found out the truth. Like I’d ripped her heart out.”

“She’ll come around,” I assured her, though I wasn’t entirely convinced myself. “She loves you. That hasn’t changed.”

“But her trust in me has.” Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know if I can ever get that back.”

I took her hand in mine, threading our fingers together. “Trust can be rebuilt. It takes time, honesty, and consistency. But it’s possible.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. “Rebuilding your trust in me?”

The question hung between us, loaded with implications. I considered my words carefully before answering.

“I think I’m building something new,” I said finally. “Something that acknowledges who you were and who you are now. Something that has room for both.”

Her breath caught, and I saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I don’t deserve that kind of understanding.”

“It’s not about deserving,” I replied, squeezing her hand. “It’s about choosing. And I’m choosing to believe in you—something stronger than I’ve ever felt before.”

One tear rolled down her cheeks as she moved closer, resting her forehead against mine. “I want to be worthy of that choice,” she whispered, her breath warm against my lips.

“You already are,” I murmured, closing the distance between us.

The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant—as if we were both afraid this fragile moment might shatter. But as her arms wound around my neck, pulling me closer, the restraint I’d been maintaining crumbled. My hands found her waist, drawing her against me as the kiss deepened, becoming hungry, desperate.

We fell back onto the bed together, her body soft and yielding beneath mine. For a moment, I forgot about tomorrow’s dangers, about Matheson and his tactical team, about my family’s suspicions. There was only this—her hands in my hair, her lips against my skin, the small sounds of pleasure she made as I traced the curve of her neck with my mouth.

“Connor,” she breathed, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. “If tomorrow goes wrong—”

I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “It won’t.”

“But if it does,” she insisted, “I need you to know that everything between us—every touch, every word, every moment—it was real. The realest thing in my life.”

Instead of answering, I kissed her again, pouring everything I couldn’t yet say into it. We undressed each other slowly, savoring each newly revealed inch of skin like it was the first time.

I slipped my hand beneath her lacy bra, feeling her arch into my touch as I traced circles against her nipple. She gasped when I unhooked the clasp, exposing her completely to my gaze.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, lowering my head to flick my tongue against the hard bud.

She writhed beneath me, fingers tangling in my hair as I worshipped her body. When I moved lower, trailing kisses down the soft plane of her stomach, she whimpered my name like a prayer. As I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her underwear, I looked up to find her watching me, pupils dilated with desire.

“Please,” she begged, her voice a raw whisper.

My breath scorched her thighs as I traced her clit with my finger, a torturously slow circuit. “Please what?” I growled, my voice vibrating against her delicate flesh.

I locked my gaze onto her pussy when she moaned in desperation. I watched, entranced, as she grew wetter, her juices glistening like dewdrops between her lips. I was starving for her taste.

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