Page 24 of Carter
I did a perimeter check—windows, doors, sight lines—before I let myself turn back to her. She was watching me with those eyes that saw too much.
“You don’t have to—” she started.
“Yes, I do.” I dropped to one knee in front of her, cupping her face with both hands. My thumbs brushed her cheeks, lingering like I was afraid she might vanish if I looked away. “He said you’re marked. I don’t know how far that goes, but Harper, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Her throat worked, and for a moment I thought she’d argue. Instead, she reached for me, tracing the scrape across my jaw with shaking fingers. “Then at least let me take care of this.”
The gentleness in her touch nearly undid me. I’d been running on adrenaline and fury, but here—her soft hands, her fierce eyes—it all broke down into one truth. I couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.
“Carter…” Her voice cracked, a whisper between us. “I’m not as strong as you think.”
“You’re stronger than you know,” I said, leaning in until my forehead touched hers. “But you don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ve got you.”
And as I held her there in the dim light of my living room, I knew this wasn’t just a vow to protect her from whoever was coming. It was a vow to never let go of the one person who made me feel whole again.
29
Harper
The moment Carter shut the last lock, I felt the world shrink down to the four walls around us. His space wasn’t what I expected—plain, solid, almost spartan—but every inch of it felt safe simply because he was here.
Safe. The word was foreign, trembling in my chest like it wasn’t sure it belonged to me.
I sat where he told me to, perched on the edge of his couch, and watched him circle the apartment with military precision. Every window checked, every latch tested, every shadow scanned. He was a storm contained in human form, and I could see the strain pulling at him. His shoulders stiff, his jaw locked tight, his eyes never at rest.
Part of me wanted to tell him to sit down, to breathe. Another part of me couldn’t stop drinking him in, like if I let my gaze slip for even a second, he might vanish and I’d be back in that warehouse, alone.
When he finally came to me, dropping to one knee and cupping my face like I was something fragile, my heart cracked. Because the truth was, I wasn’t fragile—I wasbroken. Bruised in places no medic could reach, haunted by the echo of a voice whisperingyou’re marked now.
“Carter…” I whispered, my fingers brushing the scrape along his jaw. I needed to touch him, to anchor myself to something real. “I’m not as strong as you think.”
His forehead touched mine, his breath warm, steadying. “You’re stronger than you know. But you don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ve got you.”
The words nearly undid me. Because I’d been alone for so long, teaching myself how to stand when everything inside me wanted to collapse. And now here he was, offering to carry some of that weight like it was the easiest promise in the world.
I curled against his chest, listening to the furious drum of his heartbeat under my ear. The sound should’ve been comforting, but all I could think was how much it cost him—every second he was wound so tight, ready to fight for me, bleed for me.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, the words burning on my tongue.
His arms tightened around me instantly. “Good,” he murmured roughly into my hair. “Fear keeps us sharp. But no one’s going to touch you again, Harper. Not while I’m breathing.”
I believed him. God help me, I believed him more than I believed my own strength.
And for the first time since the nightmare began, I let myself close my eyes and rest.
30
Carter
She fell asleep against me. Just like that—one breath, then another, her body softening into mine as if she finally believed she could let go.
But I couldn’t.
I eased her down onto the couch, tucking a blanket around her, careful not to wake her. Her lashes fluttered once, her fingers twitching as though afraid I’d slip away, so I stayed right there. Sitting on the floor, back against the couch, her hand caught in mine.
Her face was pale even in sleep. A tiny crease marred her brow, proof that the nightmare hadn’t truly let her go. My chest ached at the sight of it, a dull throb I couldn’t push down.
Every creak of the building, every car passing outside had me on edge. I’d cleared this place twice, but I still scanned the shadows, the locks, the street beyond the window. Old instincts wouldn’t let me rest—and I didn’t want to.
