Page 118 of Anchor
Mine.
He tried to move his hand. It didn’t cooperate. He tried to speak, but nothing came.
She stepped closer. “I’m here,” she said, thick and breathless.
God, he wanted to say her name. He opened his mouth. Something caught in his throat—dry, unused. He tried again. “C—” he rasped, barely moving air. He coughed.
She surged forward, catching his hand, her eyes locked on his. “You don’t have to talk,” she whispered.
But he did. He needed to. He swallowed, barely. “Claire,” he said, raw and hoarse and unmistakably himself.
The room around him shifted, someone moved, a breath caught, but all he saw was her.
She laughed and cupped his jaw with both hands. “Hi,” she said, barely holding together.
He blinked slowly. “How long?”
“Too long.”
He wanted to say more. Wanted to ask what happened, what came next, what they’d lost or saved. But all he could do was look at her.
His voice scraped out again, “You didn’t leave.”
She kissed his forehead, her lips shaking. “Not for a second.”
The room had gone quiet.The blur of voices had faded. The wires and monitors still hummed softly, but the air felt different, settled, private. The others had drifted back, letting the moment be what it was. Claire was standing right there. She hadn’t let go of his hand.
Reid blinked at her slowly. He wanted to memorize her all over again, the freckles beneath her eyes, the way her mouth twitched when she tried not to cry. He could see every line of strain and sleeplessness on her face.
And there was something else. Her fingers tightened on his. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly.
Reid managed a small nod. His throat ached. He couldn’t speak again, not yet, but she didn’t wait for him to try.
“Tuck figured it out the morning you got hurt.” Her voice didn’t shake, but her eyes did. “He told me after your surgery.”
He watched her, every cell in his body reaching forward.
“I waited to say it until you could hear me. I wanted it to be you.” She took a breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Reid’s breath caught in his chest, not because of shock—because it felt right. His body couldn’t move fast. His thoughts weren’t clear. But that one word, “pregnant,” rippled through him like an anchor finally sinking where it belonged.
He blinked again, tears hot in the corners of his eyes. He moved his fingers enough to squeeze hers.
Claire leaned forward, forehead touching his. “I didn’t want to do any of this without you,” she whispered.
You didn’t, he wanted to say.I’m here.
He exhaled. And he didn’t let go.
FORTY
CHASE DENVER – CLAIRE BOWMAN’S OFFICE – FOUR WEEKS LATER
The morning light cut sharp lines across the executive floor’s glass walls. Claire stood behind a secure desk, one carved out just for her. Technically, her title was Director of Special Systems Operations. In practice, it meant rebuilding what Vos had triedto destroy and proving it could never be used that way again.
Ian offered her the position before Reid even opened his eyes. Because they needed her. Because the system couldn’t run without someone who understood its backbone and its moral limits. Because he wanted to give her a purpose in case Reid didn’t come back.
Kieran had flown in personally two weeks ago. Not just to liaise, but to stay. He’d taken a private suite on the east side of the tower for his wife and family. His family’s safety was the only reason he agreed to come at all. He didn’t say it, but she could see it in his face: he wanted to protect what was left of their broken machine and to protect her.
