Liam had broken into a sprint toward Nimue’s room, pencil case still gripped tight. A blur of motion had intercepted him—tall, lean, moving with lethal precision. Steel arms had wrapped around his torso, driving him into the wall.
“Nimue!” The name had ripped from his throat as he bucked against the hold. “Let me go—they’re after her!” He’d thrown his elbow back, twisted against the grip just enough to break free a half second before he was pinned to the ground.
The pencils in the case had scattered across the linoleum in an explosion of color.
His shoulder had hit first, then his face. He struggled against the weight crushing him, panic clawing at his chest. “She’s hurt—I have to?—”
“Liam?” A voice had cut through his thrashing. “Liam Kingsley?”
“Get off me!” He’d fought harder.
The words finally registered, and Liam had twisted his head. Sun-weathered face, piercing blue eyes, stubble that suggested he hadn’t shaved for days. The guy had looked like he’d walkedoff a beach somewhere, but his stance had screamed military—composed on the surface, coiled underneath.
“Calm down; she’s okay. We’re the good guys.”
The words had penetrated. He’d gone still, chest heaving against the floor.
The weight had lifted. Hands had hauled him upright. The beach guy had steadied him with surprising gentleness.
“Remember me? Steinbeck Kingston. We’re here to help.”
It hadn’t been his favorite way to re-meet Nimue’s sister’s boyfriend, but at least he hadn’t broken any bones.
Now he stared at Emberly.
“Coco just confirmed it.” Emberly’s expression never shifted. “Someone took her out during transport. Probably Alan Martin cleaning house. Too much liability.”
The breath he’d been holding for days escaped in a rush. His knees nearly buckled. No more looking over shoulders. No more shadows in doorways. No more waking at three a.m. wondering if today was the day Teresa came for them.
“Are you sure?” This from Nimue, who’d roused at her sister’s entrance. She took a breath and glanced at Liam. “These people have a way of coming back from the dead.”
“Logan Thorne confirmed it to me.” Coco appeared behind Emberly, petite, short black hair, phone glowing in her grip.
He remembered meeting Thorne three days ago. Former SEAL, now director of the Caleb Group. The guy had shoved his face into the floor so that was fun.
Coco looked at Nimue. “Found your drive exactly where you said. Still analyzing the contents, but we’ll crack it.” She stepped closer to Nimue’s bed. “I also scrubbed your digital footprint. Every file, account, breadcrumb—gone. The Bratva connection is severed permanently.” Her gaze flicked between Nimue and Liam. “You’re invisible again. Clean slate—nothing to tie you toAlan Martin. But maybe think twice before diving back into the hacking world?—”
“I’m done,” Nimue said. Her eyes found Liam’s, held them. “I’m ready to stop looking over my shoulder. Maybe focus on my art instead.”
“Perfect.” Coco smiled. “I fixed your bus tire too. You’re free to head back to Florida whenever you’re discharged.”
Oh.Liam’s stomach clenched. Florida. Of course. Safe. Logical. A thousand miles from here.
From him.
But he wouldn’t hold her back. And maybe…Well, he was committed to the Rim this summer, but after that?—
If she still wanted him?—
“Maybe someday.” Nimue turned to him and squeezed his hand. “But I’m thinking I’d like to stick around the canyon for a while.” Her smile turned sly. “Turns out home isn’t only one place. It’s wherever you’re loved.”
The words hit him square in the chest. Knocked the breath clean out of him.
But,yeah, what she said.
Coco nodded, that almost-smile returning as she glanced at Liam, then locked eyes with Nimue. “Stay free, Nim. You’ve earned it.”
Her steps faded down the hallway. Emberly left too, the door clicking shut.