And yet here we are. And somehow, despite the danger and the fear and the uncertainty of what comes next, it feels right that she's here. That I'm the one keeping her safe.
"Finn." She steps closer, her hand coming up to rest against my chest. "Be careful out there."
"Always am."
"I mean it." Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt. "Don't take unnecessary risks because you feel responsible for me. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you because of me."
The raw honesty in her voice steals my breath. This woman who has been hunted, terrorized, forced to flee her home and her life, is worried about me. About what might happen to me while protecting her.
Something breaks open inside my chest. I pull her to me, my mouth finding hers in a kiss that contains none of the gentleness of last night. This is possession, desperation, fear and hope and need all tangled together in a way I can't express with words.
She responds instantly, her body molding to mine as if we've been doing this for years instead of days. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, demanding more with every stroke of her tongue against mine.
The memory of last night floods my senses – Nova beneath me, around me, her body responsive and eager, her cries of pleasure as I claimed her completely. The way she looked at me afterward, with wonder and trust and something dangerously close to love.
For a brief, reckless moment, I consider staying. Sealing us both inside this room, letting my brothers handle Vance, keeping Nova in my arms where I can protect her directly, physically, and completely.
But that's not who I am. And it's not what she needs from me right now.
I break the kiss reluctantly, resting my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. "I have to go."
"I know." She doesn't try to hold me back, doesn't make this harder than it already is. "Just come back to me."
"I will." A promise I have no right to make, but can't stop myself from giving. "Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone but me, no matter what you hear, no matter who calls for you. Understand?"
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine. "I understand."
I force myself to step back, to move toward the door, to prepare to leave her alone while I hunt the man who wants to hurt her. It's the hardest thing I've ever done.
I take one last look at her, committing to memory the way she looks right now. Strong. Determined. Beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with her fame or her face on magazine covers.
Then I step out, hearing the heavy door seal behind me, the locks engaging automatically. She's as safe as I can make her, protected by steel and technology and contingency plans for every scenario I could imagine.
I just hope it's enough.
"She settled?"Cade asks as I rejoin my brothers in the main room.
"Yes." I check my weapons one last time, mind shifting fully into operational mode. "Panic room is secure. No one gets in or out until this is over."
"And how are you?" Sawyer asks, his eyes seeing more than I'd like.
"I'm fine."
"Are you?" He steps closer, keeping his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Because I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her, and that concerns me given what we're about to do."
"My feelings for Nova won't affect my judgment."
"They already have." He glances toward the master bedroom where Nova is safely locked away. "You're emotionally compromised, Finn. That makes you dangerous in ways that might not help us out there."
He's right, and I know it. After last night, my need to protect Nova has moved beyond professional obligation to something primal and consuming. I would tear apart anyone who threatened her with my bare hands if necessary.
"I can handle it," I say, meeting my brother's gaze directly. "Trust me, Sawyer."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. "I do trust you. But be aware of your blind spots. Don't let your feelings for her make you careless."
"I won't."
With that settled, we move to final preparations. Communication checks, weapons distribution, patrol assignments. The familiar routine of men preparing for conflict, a dance we've all performed in different contexts throughout our lives.
