Page 92 of Carter
The safehouse quieted after the suits left, the team finally scattering—Cyclone to the cot he’d claimed, Gideon muttering about stitches, River and Faron still bent over the map, unwilling to let their minds rest. But Carter’s hand never left mine.
When he finally tugged me down the hall, the silence between us wasn’t heavy. It was charged.
The room he led me into was dim, just a single lamp humming in the corner. The door clicked shut, and for the first time since Redwood’s shadow fell over us, it felt like we were alone. Really alone.
Carter didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, eyes locked on mine, the weight of everything we’d been through crowding the space between us. Then his hand came up, brushing a strand of hair back from my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw like he couldn’t believe I was real.
“You scare me,” he said finally, his voice low, rough. “Not because you’re weak. Because you’re stronger than you should have to be. And because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
The lump in my throat was sharp and unrelenting. I stepped into him, pressing my palms flat against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart under my fingers. “You’re not going to lose me,” I whispered. “Not to Redwood. Not to anyone.”
That broke something in both of us. His mouth crashed against mine, hot and desperate, and I kissed him back like I’d been holding my breath for months. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and the sound he made when I melted into him was raw enough to undo me completely.
The cot groaned as he lowered me onto it, his body covering mine, but the way he touched me—slow, reverent, aching—was nothing like the violence we’d survived. It was love, fierce and undeniable, poured into every kiss, every brush of his calloused hands over my skin.
“Harper,” he murmured against my throat, like my name was the only word that mattered.
I tangled my hands in his hair, my voice breaking when I whispered, “I’m yours. Always.”
And when we finally came together, it wasn’t about erasing the fear or proving we’d survived. It was about claiming something Redwood could never touch. Us.
The world outside could burn, the files could wait, but in that moment, there was nothing but Carter and me—breathless, tangled, alive.
145
Harper
Morning light crept through the thin curtains, pale and hesitant, like it didn’t quite belong in a place that had seen so much darkness. I stirred against the steady rise and fall of Carter’s chest, his arm heavy around me, his hand still curled possessively against my hip.
For one fragile moment, I let myself just be. No Redwood. No files. No cameras flashing or faces haunting my dreams. Just the sound of Carter’s heartbeat beneath my ear, steady and strong, like it was synced to mine.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, voice rough from sleep.
“Barely,” I whispered, smiling into his skin.
His fingers traced lazy circles against my side, each one grounding me more. “I meant what I said last night.”
I tilted my head, meeting his eyes. They were clearer now, softer, but still carrying that storm he never quite let go of. “Which part?”
“All of it,” he said simply. “That I can’t lose you. That you’re mine. That you’re stronger than you even realize.”
Emotion swelled so thick in my chest I couldn’t speak.Instead, I leaned up and kissed him—slow, lingering, a reminder that we’d both found something worth fighting for.
A knock at the door broke the moment, followed by Gideon’s gravelly voice. “Lovebirds, if you’re done, we’ve got work to do.”
Carter groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow. I laughed, the sound shaky but real.
When I stood, pulling on my clothes, the weight of reality settled back on my shoulders. Redwood was in chains, yes—but his network wasn’t gone. Those faces were still out there, waiting.
Carter came up behind me, pressing a kiss to my temple as his hand found mine again. “We’ll face it,” he said simply.
I nodded. “Together.”
And with that, we stepped out of the room, ready to join the team around the table once more.
The war room smelled like stale coffee and determination. By the time Carter and I joined, the table was already covered in files, laptops blinking, maps pinned with bright markers. No one looked rested, but everyone looked ready.
Cyclone shoved a stack toward me as soon as I sat. “You’ve got sharp eyes. Help me cross-reference these names with the shipping manifests.”
