Afterward, tangled together in the dark, I brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.
She was half-asleep, her body warm and soft against mine.
“I mean it, Jude,” I whispered against her skin.
“I’m gonna marry you someday. As soon as I know you’re ready, I will propose to you.”
She didn’t open her eyes.
She just smiled — a small, secret smile — and tucked herself even closer against me.
And I knew, deep in my bones, that someday wasn’t that far away.
34
Jude
The days that followed blurred into a kind of beautiful routine.
Early mornings with Cyclone, lazy coffee on the back deck, teasing texts while he worked with the Team, and I settled into my new job at Owen Security.
For once, my life wasn’t about survival.
It was about living.
Laughing.
Loving.
But peace, as I was learning, was fragile.
And it never lasted long.
It started on a Thursday.
Just an ordinary day — coffee run, a quick meeting with Owen about a new case, a walk along the beach during my lunch break.
The pier was quiet, and the spring tourists were still a few weeks away.
The breeze smelled like salt and sunscreen, and kids were laughing somewhere farther down the boardwalk.
I stood at the railing, sipping my coffee, letting the sun warm my face.
And then...
I felt it.
The prickle.
The unmistakable weight of beingwatched. I knew that feeling.
I turned slowly, scanning the crowds — tourists in sun hats, a guy selling T-shirts, a couple walking a dog.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Safe.