Page 40 of Cyclone

Not this time.

I let them fall.

Let myselffeel it.

All the grief.

All the rage.

All the love that never died.

When I finally tucked the photograph safely back into my pocket, I felt lighter somehow—not whole, but stronger.

I turned back toward the house, my heart pounding harder with every step.

The time for mourning was over.

The time for fighting had come.

I watchedher through the cracked screen door, my hands fisted tight at my sides.

I saw the way she moved now, not like a woman broken, but like a woman forged in fire.

I had never loved anything more in my life.

And I knew—no matter what happened tonight—I would never let her walk away again.

My team checked in silently over the encrypted line. Faron, Lieutenant Carter Robinson, Lyon, Tag, and Oliver were with them.

Positions ready.

Guns loaded.

Eyes on every approach.

I acknowledged them with a single nod.

Then I turned and opened the door for her.

Jude stepped inside, the sunset painting her hair gold, her face set with fierce determination. She was beautiful, and she’s mine. I would kill anyone who tried to take her from me.

Our eyes locked.

No words needed.

They were ready.

Together.

It was midnight.

The first sign was the shimmer of headlights far off across the desert, masked by the low ridges and dust.

I watched from the darkened living room, crouched behind the window, heart hammering.

Cyclone crouched beside me, his body a wall of heat and silent strength.

In the distance, I saw dark figures slipping from vehicles—too many for a simple “message.”

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