He walked me toward the porch slowly while favoring his injured side no matter how much he tried hiding it.
“You’re hurting.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I’m alive.”
His voice turned quieter then.
“Which seems important to you.”
I stopped walking.
So did he.
The porch light cast soft gold across the rain between us.
And suddenly all the fear and adrenaline from tonight felt too close to the surface again.
“You took a sniper bullet for me.”
His jaw flexed once.
“I’d do it again.”
Emotion hit so hard my eyes burned instantly.
“Hersh…”
“I mean it.”
He stepped closer carefully.
Close enough I could see exhaustion pulling at the edges of him now.
Close enough to smell rain and smoke and blood and him.
“You don’t understand something yet, sweetheart.”
My heart stumbled at that word.
“What?”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“If Shepherd touches you…” His voice lowered dangerously. “I become something very hard to stop.”
The raw honesty in that statement stole my breath.
Not a threat.
A promise.
And somehow that should’ve terrified me.
Instead—
