Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
We ease into the truck. Lincoln helps me climb into the passenger seat as if I’m made of fragile glass, and for a moment, I almost protest—I’m not helpless. But exhaustion tugs at my limbs, so I let him. Once he’s settled behind the wheel, I can feel his attention flicking toward me, concern etched into every line of his face.
“How do you feel?” he asks softly, sliding the key into the ignition. “Need anything? Water?”
I shake my head. “I just want to sleep,” I admit, voice trembling. “But… maybe after we get cleared at the hospital.”
His expression gentles, and he briefly touches my cheek. “We’ll do that.” Then he starts the engine. The tires crunch on gravel as we pull away from the container yard.
The drive is quiet. The adrenaline is fading, leaving me bone-weary. The city lights blur past the window, and I rest my head against the seat, letting the rumble of the engine lull my racing thoughts. I sense Lincoln’s gaze flick to me every now and then, as if he’s checking to make sure I’m still here, still breathing. He must be as rattled as I am, I realize.
We reach the hospital at the edge of Saint Pierce, and nurses usher us into a curtained exam area. Dean is whisked off for more thorough treatment of his shoulder. Sophia insists on staying with him, refusing to let go of his hand. I watch them from across the busy ER—he’s trying to reassure her, even in his own battered condition. My heart twinges at the love there, a love that overcame fear and bullets just to save each other.
A nurse beckons me over, checks my vitals, inspects bruises on my arms and wrists. She cleans a small cut on my temple that I didn’t realize was bleeding. I flinch at the sting. Lincoln hovers in the doorway, arms folded, tension carved into his posture. He’s the only reason I feel safe in this sterile chaos.
When the nurse finishes, instructing me to rest and follow up with a doctor in the morning, Lincoln steps closer, offering his hand. I grasp it, heart fluttering. We exit the curtained area and find a quiet corner in the hallway while we wait for Dean’s final clearance. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and the antiseptic smell of the hospital burns my nose.
For the first time all night, it’s just the two of us—no police, no gunfire, no kidnappers. My stomach tightens with nerves and longing. We haven’t had a single second to talk about… us.
Lincoln seems to sense the shift in the air. He glances down, brushing a thumb over the bruises circling my wrist, a pained look crossing his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That you got hurt, that… I wasn’t faster.”
A fierce wave of tenderness and frustration hits me. I step closer, letting my free hand press against his chest. “This isn’t your fault,” I say, voice thick. “You saved me. You and Dean. That’s all that matters.”
He lifts his gaze, emotion flickering in his eyes. “I meant what I said before,” he murmurs, “about protecting you. And I know we haven’t had time to figure out… what this is between us, but I—”
I swallow, tears threatening again. “I know.” My throat constricts around the admission. I don’t have fancy words either, but the tension in my chest feels painfully real. We share so much—the memory of that first undercover dance, the nights that blurred lines we never intended to cross, the terrifying vulnerability I felt in the container, calling his name. “I’m still figuring it out, too,” I say. “But I want to figure it out—with you.”
His sigh of relief mingles with a faint, exhausted smile. We stay like that for a moment, foreheads almost touching, until footsteps break the hush. Dean appears, an arm bandaged and in a sling, Sophia at his side, the nurse trailing them. Despite his injuries, Dean’s gaze zeroes in on us, reading the tension and closeness.
He clears his throat, eyes narrowed. “Everything good over here?”
A wry smile twitches at my lips, and I step back, letting Lincoln’s warmth linger against my arm. “Yeah,” I say softly. “We’re… good.”
Dean nods slowly, not pressing the topic—probably too exhausted himself. “Let’s get home,” he says, wincing as he adjusts the sling. “The hospital wants a few more forms filled out, then we can leave.”
Sophia’s eyes brim with gratitude as she looks at me. “Thanks for fighting, for being brave when… everything was so terrifying. I didn’t think—” Her voice chokes, and she shakes her head. “I didn’t think I’d see Dean again.”
I hug her gently, tears slipping free. “We made it,” I whisper, voice trembling. “That’s all that matters.”
Lincoln and Dean exchange a look, something like mutual respect passing between them—maybe a silent agreement that, for all the times they might butt heads, tonight they were unstoppable when it came to saving the people they love.