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"And you love it," she teases back, her humor a light in the darkness that has nothing on her.
"Guilty as charged." My hand covers hers, our fingers intertwining naturally. "But here's the deal—we play this smart. We keep you safe and draw this bastard out."
Her brows draw together, her brown eyes reflecting the same steel that fortifies my spine. "I don’t like waiting around to be rescued,” she says.
"I know," I try to reassure her. "You're not a damsel in distress—you’re the queen ready to go to war."
"And you're my..." She trails off with a playful glint in her eye.
"Your what? Knight in shining armor?" I tease back.
She laughs, and it's like music amidst chaos. "More like my badass bodyguard with a heart of gold."
I lean in closer, drawn by her laughter and strength alike. "For you? I'll be anything you need."
The study is no longer just a room; it's a battleground in waiting, with maps and notes strewn across the table like a warlord's plans. Sasha stands beside me, her fierce gaze scanning the documents. She's a damn force of nature—her strength doesn't just surprise me anymore; it's what I bank on.
"So, what's the play, Cap?" Sasha asks, her voice steady despite the storm we're walking into.
I lean over the table, my finger tracing a line on the map. "We need to think like Damian. Anticipate his moves."
She nods, her brow furrowed in concentration. "He wants to unnerve you, get under your skin."
I chuckle despite the gravity of our situation. "Joke's on him then—he's not the first to try."
Sasha grins at that, and hell if it doesn't lighten the weight on my shoulders. "Oh, I bet.”
She leans into the table, studying the map. "I don’t think he’ll come to the house—there couldn’t be more security there. He’ll probably try to get us when we have to leave, since he was able to find us at the diner. What about here or here?”
I study the spot she indicates—the small grocery store near the edge of town and an old bridge we have to pass to get into town. "Not bad for a pop star," I admit grudgingly.
"Pop star slash strategic genius," she corrects with mock arrogance.
I can't fight the smirk that tugs at my lips. She brings light to this dim room, even with danger breathing down our necks.
"Okay," I concede, "let's run with that theory." My hand hovers over another area of the map. "We'll set up surveillance here and here—make sure we've got eyes on every possible angle."
Sasha nods in agreement, her fingers drumming against the tabletop—a rhythmic counterpoint to our tense planning session.
"We're a good team," she muses out loud.
"Yeah," I agree without hesitation. "We are."
Her eyes meet mine, and there's something there—an understanding that goes beyond words. She knows what it costs me to share this burden; knows how fiercely I guard my demons.
"Hey," she says softly, breaking through my thoughts with her gentle tenacity. "You're not in this alone anymore."
Her hand finds mine among the chaos of papers and plans—a simple touch that seals our unspoken pact.
"Never thought I'd say this," I confess as I squeeze her hand back, "but having you here makes me believe we might just win this damn war."
16
SASHA
The silence of the woods envelops us, the darkness outside mirroring the uncertainty shadowing my heart. Axel's safe house, with its sleek lines and soft lighting, feels like a cocoon, separate from the world I know. He stands by the window, gaze lost in the forest that stretches beyond.
I can't help but break the silence. "Ever think about trading all this for a nine-to-five?" My attempt at humor is feeble, but it does the trick. Axel turns, a half-smile tugging at his lips.
