I laughed, then tried to use the moment to duck under his arm. He didn’t fall for it, his hand catching mine again, lacing our fingers together.
“Fine.” I sighed, switching tactics. “How about a compromise? You show me what you’ve set up, explain the process,and I promise not to touch anything without your approval?”
He gave me a deeply skeptical look.
“Half an hour,” I bargained. “Just let me see what we’re working with.”
“Your hands are still shaking,” he pointed out, his thumb running over my knuckles. “And the compound is still in your system. Your brain needs recovery time before processing complex information.” The clinical assessment was delivered with surprising gentleness.
“This matters more than my comfort,” I insisted. “Xavier is still out there, conditioned, being used as their weapon. Every day we wait.”
“Is a day your brain heals enough to actually help him,” Reaper finished firmly. “In this condition, you’ll miss critical details, make connections that aren’t there, overlook ones that are.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, for someone who barely speaks, you’re surprisingly annoying when you want to be.”
“A hidden talent,” he said dryly.
“Here’s the deal,” I tried again, attempting to sound reasonable despite my frustration. “I’ll rest for one more hour, then we start working together on those drives. Four eyes are better than two, especially when one pair belongs to an investigative journalist.”
“Two hours,” he countered. “And you take a real shower first. Clear your head.”
“One hour,” I countered firmly. “And yes, I’ll shower.”
“Ninety minutes,” he said, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “And I’ll show you the decryption setup before you rest.”
I threw up my hands in exasperation. “Fine. Ninety minutes.”
“And regular breaks,” he added. “No working until you collapse.”
“You”, I pointed my finger at his chest, “are insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I tried to maintain my glare, but it was difficult when a part of me was thrilled to see this new side of him. Yesterday, he would have issued orders. Today, his protectiveness carried something else—an almost playful stubbornness that felt refreshingly human.
“Ninety minutes starts after you show me the setup,” I clarified, unwilling to give up completely.
“And Maeve?” he called after me as I turned toward the door.
I paused, turning back.
“Those drives aren’t going anywhere.” His expression softened slightly. “Neither am I.”
I couldn’t help the warmth that spread through me at those simple words. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Chapter 18
Maeve
I shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, exhaling tension.Ninety minutes. The promise of decrypting those hard drives sat heavy, but right now, I needed to reclaim myself before diving back into darkness.
Steam filled the small bathroom as I peeled off borrowed clothes, wincing. The mirror revealed a canvas of bruises—purple and yellow. I traced a particularly angry one along my ribs. Brock’s restraint marks had faded to thin blue lines, but the memory hadn’t.
Since arriving at this safehouse, I’d been reduced to quick washcloth baths while sitting on the toilet lid—I had been too weak to stand long. Today, my legs weren’t trembling. The promise of hot water against my skin felt like reclaiming a small piece of normalcy.
Under the shower’s spray, I closed my eyes and let water cascade down my body. The heat stung against raw patches yet soothed deeper aches. I adjusted it hotter, needing to burn away memories of cold tables and colder hands.
My hands moved methodically, working shampoo through hair, then soap across my collarbone, over my breasts. Ipaused, fingers lingering against my nipple as it hardened. The sensation shot straight between my thighs, unexpected and sharp.
