Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
We’re together, whatever that means in this dangerous world. And I’ll hold on to that truth as long as it takes to bring us both home.
Chapter 31
Orion
It’s a strange feeling, stepping out of a hospital. I’ve had my fair share of injuries. Yet, as I limp through the double doors, a warm breeze greets me, carrying the promise of freedom—and Briar’s hand is in mine, fingers intertwined, like an anchor that keeps me steady despite the twinge in my side.
Asher, Dean, and Ranger stand off to one side of the pickup loop, faces unreadable behind their stoic, protective postures. Each of them holds bags, flowers, or random gifts brought by well-wishers and team members over the past week. Briar insists on carrying my jacket, even though I’m perfectly capable, but one look at her determined expression tells me not to argue. I’ve learned—painfully, sometimes—that beneath her quiet exterior is a fierce spirit I can’t help but admire.
“Ready, boss?” Dean asks, crossing his arms. He’s got that slight crease between his brows that says he’s still worried about me. And, to be fair, I’m not 100 percent. My side throbs with each step, the healing wound wrapped beneath layers of gauze, but I’m done lying in a hospital bed with tubes and monitors. I need to be doing something—protecting Briar, ensuring the leftover loose ends of this nightmare get tied off.
“Yeah,” I say, offering a slight nod. “I’m good.”
Briar’s hand squeezes mine, and I glance down, catching her tentative smile. That simple gesture—her fingers in mine—is enough to remind me why I need to keep going. I nearly lost her once. I’m not about to let that happen again.
Ranger steps forward, clearing his throat. “We got the car ready. Safe house is still prepped. Figured you’d want to stay there until we nail Jason down.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “We’ll stay put until the team finishes things.” The only person still running free is Jason, and from what Dean’s told me, he’s got the entire country looking for him. Vlad and Dimitri—two of the Russian masterminds behind Chester’s kidnapping—are behind bars, turned over to the FBI. It’s just Jason, a rogue with too many grudges and a twisted obsession with Briar. It won’t be long before he slips up. Then this will all be over.
Dean gestures toward the black SUV idling at the curb. “Let’s get you home.” The word “home” sounds foreign on his lips, but I appreciate it. Even if the safe house is just a temporary fortress, it means security—somewhere Briar can rest without looking over her shoulder every second.
We pile into the SUV, Asher driving with his usual calm focus, Dean riding shotgun, and Ranger jammed in the back with Briar and me. The drive is quiet, punctuated only by my team checking in with each other about procedures and sightings. Briar leans against my arm, her head resting carefully on my shoulder so as not to disturb the bandage at my side. That simple warmth melts the tension coiled in my chest.
When we reach the safe house, the place Briar’s been staying, Asher pulls into the driveway with smooth precision. It’s a modest, single-story cabin tucked behind tall hedges. Ranger and Dean hop out first, scanning the perimeter before giving the all-clear. Then they help me out, though I grit my teeth at the fuss. My side twinges, but I push through, not wanting Briar to think I’m more hurt than I am.
“You sure you’re good?” Dean presses, always the overprotective dad of the group.
I grip his shoulder in reassurance. “I’m good. Thanks for everything. All of you.”
With that, they unload the bags—mostly medical supplies, clothes for Briar, and groceries. Then, after a round of firm nods and a mutual understanding that we’ll keep in close contact, the three men head off, leaving Briar and me alone.
The house feels quiet—peaceful, almost—once the door shuts behind them. Soft light filters through blinds, illuminating a cozy living room with a worn couch, a small TV, and a coffee table piled with mail. Briar sets my jacket on the arm of the couch, giving the place a cursory glance. Jeb, still in his cage, squawks as if expecting an explanation for our sudden silence.
Briar helps me ease onto the couch, her gentle touch making my pulse flutter. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks, eyes brimming with concern.
“Better than okay,” I murmur, meeting her gaze. “I’m alive, and you’re here. That’s all that matters.”
“Jeb here too.” The bird squawks.
I glance over at him. “Yes, Jeb’s here too.”
Briar sighs, crossing her arms. “You’re lucky,” she says, “The bullet barely missed your liver.”
“It nicked it,” I correct with a wry smile. “Believe me, the doctors reminded me of how close it was—over and over.”
Her expression softens, worry flickering in her eyes. “I was so scared I’d lose you.”