"I know." Just two words, but they contain everything neither of us has been brave enough to say directly. Everything we've been dancing around since that first kiss by the fireplace,since the night we spent in each other's arms, since the morning after when we both pretended we could go back to professional distance.
"Please come back to me," I whisper.
"Count on it."
The connection goes dead, leaving me alone with my thoughts and fears and the knowledge that somewhere in the forest surrounding this cabin, six men are hunting a predator who wants to hurt me.
And there's nothing I can do but wait.
The first gunshotshatters the silence like a physical blow.
I jolt upright from where I've been sitting on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding against my ribs. A single shot, followed by shouting too distant to make out words, then another shot.
Then nothing.
I rush to the console, pressing buttons frantically. "Finn? Finn, are you there? What's happening?"
No response. Just static and the echo of those shots in my mind.
"Cade? Sawyer? Anyone?" My voice rises with each unanswered call, panic clawing at my throat. "Please, someone answer me!"
Nothing.Just the hollow hiss of an open channel with no one on the other end.
My mind races with possibilities, each worse than the last. Finn shot. His brothers wounded. Vance escaping. Vance coming for me while the McKennas lie bleeding in the forest.
Breathe,I tell myself.Breathe and think.
Finn wouldn't want me to panic. He'd want me to stay calm, to trust the plan, to trust him. The panic room is secure. I'm safe here. That's what matters to him more than anything.
But what about what matters to me?
Because the truth that's been building inside me for days now, the truth that was confirmed beyond doubt when we made love last night, is that I love him. Finn McKenna, with his gruff protectiveness and his unexpected gentleness and his absolute devotion to keeping me safe.
I love him, and he's out there, possibly hurt or worse, and I'm locked in this steel box unable to do anything about it.
The thought is unbearable.
I pace again, trying to think through options. The rational part of my brain knows I should stay put. That's the plan. That's what Finn would want. That's what keeps everyone focused on the mission instead of worrying about my safety.
But the part of me that has fallen for this complicated, dangerous, utterly devoted man can't stand the thought of him hurt and me safely hidden away.
The console crackles again, and I lunge for it.
"Nova?" Not Finn's voice. Sawyer's. "Are you there?"
"I'm here! What's happening? Where's Finn?" The questions tumble out in a rush of fear.
"Vance engaged us." Sawyer's voice is tight, controlled, revealing nothing. "There was an exchange of fire. We're in pursuit."
"Is everyone okay? Is Finn okay?"
A pause. Too long. "We have a situation. Finn went after Vance alone. We're tracking them now."
Ice floods my veins. "What do you mean, alone? Why would he do that?"
"Vance fired at us from cover, then retreated south. Finn pursued immediately, didn't wait for backup." The disapproval in Sawyer's voice is clear. "We're spread out now, trying to locate them."
"You lost them?" Panic rises again, sharper now. "How could you lose them?"
