Page 69 of Carter
And maybe I needed that too.
I sank into him, my cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. Strong. Unyielding. Alive. The sound was a balm against the echo of gunfire that still haunted my ears.
When I finally pulled back, his eyes caught mine. The weariness there was sharp—bruises darkening his jaw, blood seeping through the torn fabric at his shoulder—but there was something else too. Something softer, rawer.
“You should sit,” I whispered, my fingers brushing the edge of the wound.
He caught my hand, pressing it flat against his chest. “I don’t care about that. I care about you.” His voice was rough, low, breaking something inside me in the gentlest way.
The tears welled again, but I didn’t look away. “I thought I lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me,” he said firmly, no hesitation. “Not while I’m breathing.”
The vow settled into my bones, easing some of the fear that had gnawed at me for days. I traced the lines of his face with trembling fingers, memorizing every scar, every shadow.
Then he leaned down, and our lips met again. This kiss wasn’t hurried or frantic. It was unhurried, reverent—like he was staking his claim not just on my body, but on my soul.
I melted into it, my hands sliding up to his shoulders, careful of the wound but desperate to hold on. For the first time since the nightmare began, I felt something close to peace.
Because no matter what Redwood threw at us, no matter how deep the shadows went, I knew the truth:
Carter wasn’t just my protector. He was my partner.
And together, we were unbreakable.
107
Harper
The cabin seemed smaller with just the two of us inside, the walls holding the weight of everything we’d survived. Outside, the forest whispered, the world still dangerous, still waiting—but in here, there was only him.
Carter eased down onto the couch, his arm looping around my waist to pull me with him. I curled against him without hesitation, my head tucked under his chin, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding me.
For the first time in days, I let my body relax. The fear still lingered, sharp at the edges, but his warmth dulled it, soothed it, until all I felt was the thrum of his heartbeat against my cheek.
“You should sleep,” he murmured, his voice low, gravelly with exhaustion.
I tipped my head back to look at him, brushing my fingers along the stubble on his jaw. “Only if you do.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth, the kind of smile I hadn’t seen since before the warehouse. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t sharp—it was real, small and quiet, like a promise.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, lingeringthere as though he could breathe me in. “Together,” he whispered against my skin.
The word settled deep inside me, easing the tightness in my chest. I burrowed closer, letting the fire’s warmth and his body heat lull me. My hand stayed fisted in his shirt, like if I let go he might vanish again.
But he didn’t.
Even when his breathing slowed, even when sleep tugged at both of us, Carter held me like I was the only anchor he had left. And I realized maybe that was true—maybe we were both anchors, keeping each other from drifting too far into the dark.
As my eyes closed, a fragile peace slipped in. The world outside was still broken, still dangerous. But in this moment, wrapped in Carter’s arms, I believed in something stronger than fear.
I believed in us.
108
Harper
Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting the cabin in soft gold. I blinked awake slowly, my body warm and heavy, still curled against Carter’s chest. His arm was draped around me, the steady weight of it an anchor I never wanted to lose.
