They lay down on top of the covers, fully clothed, the world narrowed to the quiet weight of one another’s presence.Eliza curled toward him, tentative at first, as if her body were still learning what safety felt like in another person’s arms.He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, careful, protective without being possessive.Her head settled beneath his chin, the rhythm of her breathing slow and steady.
No demands.No expectations.
Just closeness.
She fell asleep like that—held, not claimed.
Kol stayed awake longer than he meant to, memorizing the weight of her trust.
Morning came softly.
Kol woke to light filtering through the curtains, pale and unobtrusive.For a moment he stayed still, cataloguing sensations the way he always did when something mattered—the weight of Eliza against his chest, the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the unfamiliar absence of tension in her body.
She shifted first.
He felt it when she woke, the subtle change in her breathing, the careful way she eased herself out from under his arm as if afraid to disturb something fragile.He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to rush her, not wanting her to feel watched.
When the bed dipped and then stilled again, he opened his eyes.
She was gone.
Kol lay there for another minute, staring at the ceiling, letting the reality of the night settle fully into him.He didn’t regret it.Not the closeness.Not the choice.If anything, it sharpened his resolve.
He found her in the kitchen a few minutes later.
She stood at the island, hair loose, sleeves pushed up, moving with quiet focus as she worked.Bread toasted.Eggs in a pan.Coffee already brewing.The domestic normalcy of it hit him harder than any firefight ever had.
She looked up when she sensed him, not startled—just aware.
“You didn’t have to,lvitsa,” he said, because it was the only thing that came to mind.
“I wanted to,” she replied simply and then tilted her head in question.“What does that word mean?”
He grimaced.“It’s Russian, and it means lioness.”
She blinked.“You see me as a lioness.”
“Fuck yes!”Kol said emphatically.“You survived all for that shit, still managed to hold all that information in your beautiful head that we will use to take these assholes down, and you never give up.”
He loved the blush and smile his words drew from her, and made a note to call her that as often as he could.
They ate together on the island.Knees brushed beneath the counter.Conversation came easily—light, unforced.He listened more than he spoke, watching the way her shoulders relaxed as the minutes passed, the way her voice gained strength when she talked about the house, the quiet, the way mornings felt different here.
He noticed things most men would miss.
The way she no longer positioned herself with her back to a wall.
The way she met Mara’s eyes when she entered the room, instead of looking past her.
“Morning,” Mara said, her voice warm but unintrusive.
Eliza hesitated for only a fraction of a second before answering.“Morning.”It wasn’t loud, but it was steady.Present.
Mara’s smile softened, as if she’d heard more in that single word than the greeting itself.
The way humor crept back in, dry and sharp, when Mateo’s voice echoed faintly from the command room.
“If he reroutes that feed one more time,” Mateo called, irritation threaded with amusement, “I’m going to start charging consulting fees.”
