The Paper Vow Chapter Thirteen
The knock came just as Hozhoni’s smile touched the rim of her mug. Three sharp taps. Not loud. Not frantic. Just precise enough to drain every bit of warmth from the kitchen.
Everything stopped. Soap’s grin vanished. Ghost’s hand moved under the table. Price set his tea down without a sound. Kyle was already moving. One second he stood beside the counter, still flushed around the edges from the hallway kiss he was pretending hadn’t altered gravity.
The next, his hand closed around Hozhoni’s wrist and pulled her behind him. Not rough. Not painful. But immediate. Protective. Absolute.Hozhoni’s back hit his chest for half a breath before he shifted, placing his whole body between her and the kitchen doorway. Her mug clinked against the table. Kyle’s voice dropped into something cold and military.
Her pulse kicked hard. For once, she didn’t argue. Not because she liked being told what to do. Because his body had changed. No warmth now. No awkward almost-smile. No husband who had kissed her like she mattered. This was Sergeant Garrick, every soft part locked away behind steel. And still, his hand reached back until his fingers found hers. Hozhoni grabbed on. Tight. Price lifted one hand, signaling silence. Ghost rose from the table and moved toward the front hall with a quietness that made the room feel haunted. Soap went the opposite direction, toward the rear door, weapon already drawn. Another knock.
Hozhoni’s breath snagged. Kyle’s thumb pressed once into her knuckles. Not now, love. The word wasn’t spoken. She heard it anyway. Price moved toward the hallway after Ghost, gun low at his side. Kyle took one step back, pushing Hozhoni farther into the corner near the cabinets.
His voice was barely sound. Her throat tightened. She hated being afraid. Hated it more after the kiss. Because now fear had something new to threaten. The front hall went silent. Then Ghost’s voice, low and dangerous.
A pause. Through the door came a woman’s voice.
Hozhoni felt the entire kitchen breathe again, but Kyle didn’t move. Not yet.
Price’s voice sharpened. “Code?”
Laswell answered immediately. “Blackthorn. Six. Delta. Rain at noon.”
Only then did Price unlock the door. Even then, Ghost opened it with his weapon ready. Laswell stepped inside wearing a dark coat, rain beading on her shoulders, expression grim as winter. Behind her stood another agent Hozhoni didn’t recognize. Kyle’s grip on Hozhoni’s hand did not loosen. Laswell’s eyes flicked through the room. To Price. To Soap. To Ghost. Then to Kyle standing in front of Hozhoni like a locked door with a heartbeat. Something in her face changed. Not surprise exactly. Confirmation.
“Well,” Laswell said, voice dry. “I can see the honeymoon is progressing normally.”
Soap, because apparently survival instincts were optional, muttered, “You missed the hallway bit.”
Kyle’s head turned slowly. Soap shut up.Hozhoni’s face went hot despite the danger still buzzing in the walls. Laswell looked between them once. Then decided, mercifully, not to sharpen that knife yet.
Price closed the door behind her. “Only one?”
“Today? We’re being optimistic.”
Kyle stepped slightly aside, though not enough to leave Hozhoni exposed.
“What happened?” he asked.
Laswell held up a thin folder.
“The man at the market wasn’t sent to kill her.”
The kitchen went colder than the knock had made it. Hozhoni’s fingers tightened around Kyle’s. He looked over his shoulder at her for the briefest second. Then back at Laswell.
Laswell’s gaze settled on Hozhoni.
“He was sent to test the protection around you.”
Hozhoni’s stomach dropped. Soap went still near the back door.
Laswell nodded. “Exactly. They wanted to see who moved first, how fast, what vehicle you used, where you ran, who responded, and where you’d be taken afterward.”
Price’s jaw hardened. “So they know about this place.”
“Maybe,” Laswell said. “Maybe not. But we can’t assume they don’t.”
Hozhoni’s breath began to turn shallow. Not again. Not again. Kyle felt it through her hand. He turned slightly, still keeping his body angled toward the room.
She shook her head once. “No.”
“I’m not doing this again.”
“You’re not alone this time.”
Her eyes snapped to his. That was unfair. Cruel, almost. Because it worked. Her breathing still shook, but it didn’t spiral. Kyle’s gaze held hers a moment longer before he looked back to Laswell.
Laswell’s mouth pressed thin.
“That’s the second problem.”
Price looked at her. “Kate.”
A sound came from outside. Faint. An engine rolling too slowly past the house. Ghost moved to the window. Soap’s weapon came up. Kyle shoved Hozhoni behind him fully this time, his arm sweeping back across her middle. She grabbed his shirt. Not panic. Not entirely. Anchoring. The engine slowed. Stopped. No one breathed. Laswell’s agent touched his earpiece. His expression changed.
“Vehicle at the end of the street. White van. No plates.”
Price’s voice turned lethal. “Lights out.”
Soap hit the kitchen light. The room plunged into gray rain-darkness. Kyle pulled Hozhoni down with him behind the counter, one arm locked around her shoulders to keep her low. Her heart pounded so hard she thought everyone could hear it. His mouth came close to her ear.
The words shook. But they were there. Outside, a door slid open. Metal on metal. Then footsteps. Not at the front door this time. More than one set. Hozhoni’s body wanted to panic. Wanted to rip itself open with fear. Kyle’s arm tightened around her, warm and solid.
She closed her eyes. In. Jagged. Out. Better. Barely. The footsteps faded around the side of the house. Ghost moved soundlessly toward the rear hall. Soap joined him. Price signaled Laswell toward the sitting room. Kyle stayed with Hozhoni. She looked up at him in the dimness. His face was close. Hard with focus. But his eyes, when they found hers, were still warm. Somehow. Even now. Even with danger crawling around the safe house walls.
“I kissed you,” she whispered.
His brow tightened, confusion flickering through the urgency.
“If we die, I need you to know I don’t regret it.”
Something cracked across his face. Pain. Fear. Care. Then steel returned.
“No,” he said, voice low and fierce. “But I’m not letting one kiss be all I get.”
Her breath caught. For one impossible second, the whole world narrowed down to that. Not the van. Not the men outside. Not the guns. Just Kyle Garrick, crouched beside her in the dark, saying something too close to a confession while holding her like the universe had no right to take her. A crash sounded at the back door. Soap shouted. Ghost moved. The safe house erupted.
Kyle pushed Hozhoni lower behind the counter. “Stay down!”
This time, she obeyed immediately. Not because she was helpless. Because she trusted him. Gunfire cracked through the rear hall. Hozhoni covered her ears, but not before hearing Kyle move. He left her side. Only a few feet. Still within sight. Still between her and everything. He fired twice. Precise. Controlled. Price barked orders from the sitting room. Laswell’s agent returned fire near the front. Hozhoni curled tight behind the cabinet, breath shaking, eyes fixed on Kyle’s back. Her husband. Her inconvenient husband. Her cold arrangement. Her first real kiss. Her warmth in the dark. A man in black surged into the kitchen doorway. Kyle turned, but the angle was wrong. Too fast.
Hozhoni saw it before anyone else did. The man raised his weapon. Her fear vanished. Entirely. There was no thought. Only movement. She grabbed the heavy ceramic mug from the floor where it had fallen earlier and hurled it with every bit of panic, rage, and breakfast-table audacity in her body. It smashed into the man’s face. He staggered. Kyle fired. The man dropped. Silence fell in pieces. Not complete. Not safe. But the immediate violence stuttered to a halt. Kyle turned sharply toward her.
She was still crouched behind the counter, breathing hard, staring at the broken pieces of mug scattered across the floor.
Soap’s voice came from the rear hall. “Clear!”
Ghost followed. “Two down. One fled.”
Price shouted from the sitting room, “Front clear!”
Kyle crossed to Hozhoni and dropped to his knees in front of her. His hands hovered over her shoulders.
“No,” she breathed. “No, I’m…”
Then, absurdly, she said, “That was my tea mug.”
Kyle stared at her. For one beat, he looked like he might shake her. For the next, he looked like he might kiss her. He did neither. He pulled her into his arms. Hard. Hozhoni froze for half a second. Then she clung to him. His hand buried in her hair. His other arm locked around her back. His breathing was rough against her temple.
“You do not throw yourself into the middle of gunfire,” he said, voice low and furious.
“It kind of feels like the point.”
Kyle pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes blazing.
“I told you to stay down.”
“And I told you not to die after one kiss.”
His expression broke. There it was. That warmth. That fear. That unbearable care. Hozhoni swallowed.
“I saw him before you did,” she whispered. “I couldn’t just…”
Her voice failed. Kyle’s anger collapsed into something softer and more shaken.
“I couldn’t let that happen.”
Kyle touched her face. His thumb brushed her cheek, trembling slightly despite all his control.
She leaned into his hand.
“I’m not helpless,” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “You’re terrifying.”
A weak laugh escaped her. Then he kissed her forehead. Not because it was safe. Not because the danger was over. Because she was there. Alive. His. Not by paper. Not by arrangement. By choice, somehow forming in the smoke and shattered ceramic. From the doorway, Soap looked at the broken mug, the fallen attacker, and then at Ghost.
Ghost holstered his weapon. “Marriage is changing her.”
Price, stepping into the kitchen with Laswell behind him, gave Kyle and Hozhoni one long look. Then he sighed.“Safe house is burned. We move in two minutes.”
Hozhoni stayed in Kyle’s arms one second longer. Kyle did not let go until she did. When she finally pulled back, her hand found his again. This time, there was no hiding it. No pretending. No cold retreat. Kyle looked down at their joined hands, then back at her.
Hozhoni breathed in. Still shaky. Still scared. But steady enough.
And for the first time, the words didn’t feel like surrender. They felt like a vow.
They moved in less than two minutes. Price didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The whole house became motion. Ghost swept the rear exit. Soap grabbed the emergency bags. Laswell was on the phone, voice low and sharp, already rerouting the next safe location before anyone had reached the vehicles. Kyle kept Hozhoni close the entire time. Not tucked politely at his side. Close. His hand stayed wrapped around hers, his body constantly angling between her and every open space, every window, every uncertain shadow. She didn’t argue once. That scared him more than her arguing would have. Outside, rain misted over the street. The white van at the end of the road sat abandoned, one door hanging open like a broken jaw.
Soap slid into Kyle’s damaged SUV first, checking the back. “Clear.”
Kyle opened the rear passenger door for Hozhoni.
She climbed in quickly, still gripping his hand until the last possible second. Kyle got in beside her instead of the front. Price took the wheel. Ghost moved into the passenger seat. Soap and Laswell took the second vehicle behind them. The convoy pulled away from the burned safe house like smoke leaving a wound. For the first few minutes, nobody spoke. Only the wipers moved. Back and forth. Back and forth. A steady scrape across glass. Hozhoni sat rigidly beside Kyle, her hands clasped in her lap. Her breathing was uneven, but not as ragged as before. Her hair had fallen loose around her face. There was dust on her jeans and a tiny smear of soot near her jaw. Kyle watched her too closely to pretend otherwise. She stared out the window.
“You’re doing it again,” she whispered.
Kyle’s jaw tightened. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me like I’m going to disappear.”
He didn’t answer. Because he was. Because twice now, in less than two days, the world had aimed something deadly at her, and twice, he had felt time split open beneath his feet. Hozhoni turned slightly toward him.
Kyle’s eyes dropped to her hands. Then to her sleeve. He went still. There, near the cuff of her jacket, dark red had begun to bloom through the fabric. Not much. Not a flood. But enough. His voice changed instantly.
The whole SUV shifted around that one word. Price’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “What?”
Kyle reached for Hozhoni’s arm.
She frowned. “What are you—”
She looked down. For a second, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. Then her brows drew together.
Kyle’s eyes snapped to hers. “Oh?”
His voice was too sharp. Too scared beneath the control. Her face softened for half a second before she covered it with attitude.
“I have had paper cuts more dramatic than this.”
Kyle did not smile. That made her stop.
Ghost glanced back once from the front seat. “Where?”
“Left forearm,” Kyle said. “Likely glass or graze.”
Price’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Can it wait?”
Kyle carefully peeled her sleeve back. Hozhoni hissed through her teeth. Kyle’s face darkened.
That one word put ice through the car. Hozhoni looked down. There was a cut along the outside of her forearm, just below the elbow. Long but shallow, the kind that bled more than it deserved to. A thin line of red slipped down toward her wrist. Not bad. But not nothing. Kyle pulled the compact medical kit from the back pocket of the seat in front of him. His hands were steady. Too steady. Hozhoni watched them.
“I’m emotionally holding still.”
Ghost muttered from the front, “That’s new.”
Price shot him a look. Kyle tore open a gauze packet with his teeth, then pressed it gently to the wound. Hozhoni flinched. His expression flickered.
Her mouth tightened. “I said it’s fine.”
“And I’m saying you don’t have to.”
The SUV went quiet again. Hozhoni looked away, blinking hard. Damn him. Damn him and his careful hands. Damn him for hearing the things she hid under sarcasm. Kyle kept pressure on the cut, his palm warm over the gauze. His other hand slid under her wrist to support her arm.
“You didn’t tell me,” he said.
His eyes lifted. She swallowed.
“I really didn’t. I think… adrenaline.”
His face softened, but only a fraction.
Her laugh came out small and shaky. “There it is.”
Kyle’s thumb moved once near her wrist. “Because I do.”
She stared at their hands. Blood had touched his fingers. Her blood. For some reason, that made her stomach twist worse than the cut.
“What if I stain your shirt again?”
“It’s not the shirt I’m worried about.”
Her throat tightened. Price kept driving, eyes forward, but his face in the mirror had gone carefully blank. Ghost looked out the window, giving them privacy in the only way he knew how. Kyle lifted the gauze briefly to check the bleeding. The cut welled red again. Hozhoni inhaled sharply. Kyle pressed the gauze back down immediately.
He placed her hand over the gauze. She pressed down. He reached for antiseptic, bandage wrap, and a small roll of tape.
“You’re enjoying this,” she muttered weakly.
For the first time since the attack, something almost like a smile touched his mouth.
“You’re doing it internally.”
Her lips twitched, but the smile didn’t stay. Another tremor moved through her. Small. Kyle saw it. Of course he did.
He lowered his voice. “Shock’s coming back?”
She shook her head too quickly.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Her eyes filled before she could stop them.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
Kyle’s hands paused over the bandage.
“I hate being scared. I hate being hurt. I hate that every time I breathe wrong, everyone looks at me like I’m glass.”
“I’m bleeding in the back of an SUV after throwing a mug at a gunman.”
“Exactly.” His eyes held hers. “Glass wishes it had your nerve.”
A startled laugh broke out of her. It turned wet halfway through. Kyle’s expression softened. There. That tiny crack in the fear. He cleaned the cut carefully, murmuring a quiet apology every time she flinched. Then he wrapped her forearm in clean gauze, firm but not too tight, his fingers moving with practiced precision. Hozhoni watched him. The focus in his face. The crease between his brows. The way he looked angrier at the wound than she was. When he finished taping the bandage, he didn’t let go right away. His hand remained around her wrist, thumb resting over her pulse. As if he needed proof.
Still here. Hozhoni’s voice came softly. “Kyle.”
“You don’t look like you know.”
He looked down at the bandage. “I saw blood.”
The words were quiet. Rough. They hit harder than if he had shouted. Hozhoni stared at him. The SUV hummed around them. Rain streaked the windows. Somewhere ahead, Price turned onto another road, silent and steady. Hozhoni slowly turned her hand under Kyle’s until their palms met. His fingers closed around hers immediately.
Her voice trembled. “I’m okay.”
Kyle looked at their joined hands. Then he lifted them and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just there. A small, shaken kiss in the backseat of a moving vehicle. Hozhoni’s breath caught.
Ghost, from the front, said without turning, “Eyes forward, Captain.”
Price grumbled, “My eyes are forward.”
“They better be,” Hozhoni said, but her voice was softer now.
Kyle’s mouth twitched against her hand. She squeezed his fingers.
“Don’t go cold,” she whispered.
His gaze came back to hers.
“I’m trying not to lose my mind.”
Kyle exhaled through his nose, looking briefly toward the window before facing her again.
“I can handle gunfire,” he said quietly. “I can handle moving safe houses. I can handle Price barking at me and Ghost brooding in the front seat.”
Ghost said, “I’m sitting right here.”
“But seeing you bleed?” His fingers tightened around hers. “That’s apparently where my discipline starts embarrassing itself.”
Hozhoni’s eyes burned. “You care that much?”
Kyle looked at her like the answer hurt. “Yes.”
No hesitation. No practical sense.No convenient arrangement. Just yes.The word filled the small space between them, warm despite the rain, despite the blood, despite the danger still hunting them from somewhere beyond the windows. Hozhoni shifted closer until her shoulder rested against his. Kyle carefully guided her injured arm across her lap, then wrapped his other arm around her. She tucked herself into his side. This time, no one teased. Even Soap, in the vehicle behind them, would have kept quiet if he had seen.Kyle pressed his cheek briefly against her hair.
“You scared me,” he murmured.
His arm tightened. The admission hung there, fragile and honest.Hozhoni closed her eyes. Her forearm throbbed. Her head hurt. Her whole body felt wrung out from adrenaline and fear. But Kyle was warm beside her. His hand held hers. His heartbeat, steady beneath her cheek, told her the only thing she needed for the next few minutes.
Price drove on through the wet morning. Ghost watched the road ahead.And in the backseat, with blood drying beneath a clean white bandage, Hozhoni let herself lean fully into her husband. Not because she had to. Because she wanted to.
Hozhoni tried to stay upright. She really did. For the first few minutes, she kept her shoulder pressed into Kyle’s side, her bandaged arm resting carefully across her lap, her fingers tangled with his like she could stitch herself to him by sheer stubbornness. But the warmth of the SUV, the hum of the tires, the rain streaking the windows, the blood loss, the shock, all of it began to pull at her. A heavy tiredness rolled through her body. Not normal tired. Deep tired. Bone-heavy. Her eyelids drooped. Kyle noticed immediately.
“I’m fine,” she murmured.
His eyes narrowed. “That answer’s getting worse every time you use it.”
Her voice was smaller now. Softer. That frightened him more than the blood had. She shifted against him, then winced as her arm throbbed. Her body gave one little shiver.Kyle’s hand moved to her cheek.
“No. Just…” Her eyes fluttered closed. “Just tired.”
Price’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. “Keep her talking.”
Kyle nodded, but Hozhoni was already slipping, her head dipping toward his shoulder.
“Hey,” Kyle said gently. “Stay with me a bit longer.”
She made a faint sound of protest.
That one struck him quiet. Before he could answer, she shifted again, slower this time, curling toward him. Her head lowered until it rested in his lap, cheek against his thigh, one hand still holding weakly onto his shirt. Kyle went completely still. Not because he didn’t want her there. Because he wanted her there too much. Because she looked so exhausted, so pale beneath the fading flush of panic, and his chest felt like someone had reached in and twisted.
“Hozhoni,” he said, voice low.
That startled a laugh out of him despite everything.
Her lips barely curved. “But you’re warm.”
The word came out before he could stop it. Love. Soft. Instinctive. Hozhoni’s eyes opened halfway. Not enough to fully look at him, but enough.
Kyle’s hand paused in her hair. The SUV went very, very quiet. Even Ghost didn’t breathe loudly. Kyle looked down at her, thumb brushing a damp strand away from her face.
“Sleep,” he said instead.
Her fingers tightened faintly in his shirt.
She shivered again. Kyle immediately pulled off his jacket and draped it over her, tucking it carefully around her shoulders without disturbing her bandaged arm. Her body relaxed beneath the weight of it. The jacket swallowed her a little. Dark fabric. His warmth. His scent. She tucked her face closer against him, breathing him in like she had done with his pillow that first night. Kyle’s hand settled in her hair. Slow strokes. Careful. Reverent. Like he was afraid she might vanish if he touched too hard.
Price’s voice was quiet from the front. “How’s she looking?”
Kyle checked her face, then the bandage.
“Pale. Shivering. Bleeding’s controlled.”
“Adrenaline crash,” Ghost said. “Bit of blood loss too.”
Kyle didn’t look away from her. “We need proper medical once we’re secure.”
“Already arranged,” Price said.
Hozhoni stirred faintly. “No hospital.”
Kyle looked down. “You don’t get a vote if you pass out in my lap.”
“Not passing out,” she whispered.
“You’re literally losing an argument with consciousness.”
“Still winning against you.”
Her eyes closed again. Kyle bent over her slightly, shielding her from the light coming through the window, from the world, from everything he could not yet kill or control.
Her brow furrowed sleepily.
Price made a strangled noise from the driver’s seat.
Kyle huffed softly. “My actual name.”
She curled her fingers tighter into his shirt.
Kyle’s breath caught. The words were sleepy. Unplanned. Too honest to be used as a weapon. His hand stilled in her hair. Hozhoni didn’t seem to realize what she’d said. Or maybe she did, but she was too tired to take it back. Kyle’s face softened painfully.
“That’s right,” he whispered.
Her shivering eased little by little under his jacket. The rain kept falling. The SUV carried them through gray streets toward another unknown place, another temporary shelter, another layer of danger waiting to unfold.But Hozhoni slept. Not peacefully at first. Her breathing hitched once or twice, and her fingers twitched in his shirt whenever the vehicle turned too sharply.Each time, Kyle touched her hair.
Her body heard him. Even asleep, it believed him. Eventually, she settled fully, cheek warm against his lap, his jacket tucked beneath her chin, her bandaged arm safe across her middle. Kyle looked down at her for a long time. At the woman who had thrown a mug at a gunman. The woman who had kissed him in a hallway. The woman who had sworn she didn’t want his name, then fallen asleep calling him her husband. Price’s eyes met his briefly in the mirror. No teasing. No lecture. Just understanding. Kyle looked back down at Hozhoni and rested his hand over hers. Her wedding ring pressed faintly against his palm.
“You’re still here,” he whispered, so quietly only she could almost hear it.
Hozhoni, asleep and shivering beneath his jacket, breathed out softly. Kyle bent and kissed her temple.
“And I’m keeping you that way.”
At first, Kyle thought the shivering would ease. Shock did that. Adrenaline crashes did that. Fear leaving the body did that too, cruel little aftershocks rattling through muscle and bone. But this was different. Hozhoni’s shivers sharpened. One tremor rolled through her. Then another. Then her whole body began to shake visibly beneath his jacket. Kyle’s hand stilled in her hair.
She didn’t answer. Her head remained in his lap, cheek pressed against his thigh, eyes closed, lashes dark against skin that had gone too pale. Too gray. Kyle looked at her bandaged arm. The gauze wasn’t soaked through, but red had begun to creep at one edge. Not pouring. Not catastrophic. But enough. Too much. His stomach dropped.
The single word changed the whole SUV. Price’s eyes snapped to the rearview mirror. “What?”
“She’s shivering harder.”
Ghost turned in the passenger seat, gaze cutting over her like a blade. Kyle touched two fingers beneath her jaw. Pulse there. Fast. Too fast.
“Hozhoni.” He bent closer. “Love, wake up.”
Her brow tightened faintly, but she didn’t open her eyes. Kyle’s chest locked.
He tapped her cheek gently. “Hozhoni. Eyes open for me.”
A tiny sound left her. Not words. Barely breath. Kyle’s calm began to split at the seams.
“She’s not responding right.”
Price’s voice went hard. “How far?”
Ghost checked the navigation. “Six minutes.”
“Make it three,” Kyle said.
Price’s foot went down. The SUV surged forward. Hozhoni’s body shivered again, violent enough that Kyle had to steady her shoulders. His jacket wasn’t enough. His warmth wasn’t enough. His hands, his voice, his stubborn refusal to let the world take her, none of it was enough to stop the cold crawling through her. That terrified him. Real terror. Not the clean kind from combat. The helpless kind. The kind that stripped rank and training and left only a man holding the woman he was starting to love while she shook in his lap. Kyle pulled her closer, careful of her arm.
“Stay with me,” he whispered fiercely. “You hear me? Stay with me.”
The sound of his name nearly broke him.
“I know.” His voice roughened. “I know, love.”
Her teeth chattered once.
That was when Ghost swore under his breath.
Price barked, “Blanket. Back compartment.”
Ghost reached over the seat, yanked open the emergency compartment, and threw a thermal blanket back. Kyle caught it one-handed and wrapped it around Hozhoni over his jacket, tucking the silver edges around her trembling body. She looked too small under it.Hozhoni Vargas had never looked small to him before. Sharp, yes. Stubborn. Difficult. Terrifying. Beautiful, though he hadn’t allowed that thought much room. But never small. Now she looked frighteningly fragile, and Kyle hated the word so much he could barely breathe around it. He pressed his palm to her cheek.
Her lashes fluttered. Barely.
“That’s it,” he said, voice shaking despite his best efforts. “Come on. Look at me.”
Her eyes opened to slits. Unfocused. Too glassy. Her brows pulled together like she was trying to find him through fog.
“There you are,” he whispered.
“You’re loud,” she murmured.
A broken laugh caught in his throat.
“Yeah, well, you’re worrying me.”
“No,” he said, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “You’re very much not fine.”
Her hand twitched against his shirt. Weak. Trying to hold on. Kyle covered it immediately.
Her eyes drifted shut again.
“No. No, keep them open.”
Her face pinched. “Tired.”
“I know. But you need to stay awake.”
“That’s right.” He leaned closer, forcing steadiness into his voice like steel into a blade. “Be angry at me. Tell me I’m insufferable.”
Kyle’s heart clenched hard enough to hurt.
Her lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.
“Then I’ve got to set the standard.”
Her breathing hitched. The shivering kept coming. Kyle looked at Price. “She’s getting colder.”
Price’s knuckles were white on the wheel. “Two minutes.”
Ghost was already on the phone. “Medical team at entry. Possible blood loss, shock response, altered responsiveness. Have warming ready.”
Hozhoni tried to curl in tighter. Kyle held her carefully, one hand braced at her back, the other wrapped around her uninjured hand.
“Listen to me,” he murmured. “You are not allowed to drift off before yelling at Soap one more time.”
Her eyes fluttered again.
“Because he’ll get smug.”
Even pale and shaking, she managed the faintest scowl.
The words slipped out. My girl. Not tactical. Not practical. Not convenient. Kyle felt them leave him and did not take them back. Hozhoni’s eyes opened a little wider. Through the haze, through the cold, through the shock dragging at her, she heard it. Her gaze found his.
His thumb moved across her knuckles.
His throat closed. The SUV took a hard turn. Tires hissed over wet pavement. Price cursed under his breath as he cut through a narrow side street. Kyle lowered his forehead near hers.
Her trembling mouth softened. For half a second, even the shivering seemed to pause. Then another wave hit her and she clenched her eyes shut. Kyle’s fear roared back.
“Almost there,” he said. “You’re doing so well. I know you hate hearing that, but you are.”
“I’m a terrible husband, remember?”
Her breath came out weak and shaky. But it was almost a laugh. Almost. The SUV screeched to a stop. Doors opened around them. Rain rushed in with cold teeth. Kyle immediately covered Hozhoni’s face from the draft with his shoulder. Voices outside. Laswell. Soap. A medic. Price’s door slammed. Ghost stepped out first. Then the rear door opened beside Kyle.
A medic leaned in, bag already open. “What do we have?”
“Left forearm laceration. Bleeding mostly controlled. Increased shivering, pale, altered responsiveness. Possible shock.”
The medic nodded. “Let me see her.”
Kyle’s arm tightened instinctively. Hozhoni stirred weakly against him.
The medic’s voice softened but stayed firm. “Sergeant, I need access.”
For one awful second, Kyle didn’t move. Then Hozhoni’s fingers squeezed his shirt with what little strength she had. “Don’t go.”
His eyes burned. He looked at the medic. “I’m not leaving her.”
“No one asked you to,” the medic said. “Just give me room to work.”
Kyle shifted carefully, helping lift Hozhoni enough for the medic to check her bandage and pulse. The cold air made her shiver harder. Kyle swore softly and tucked the blanket closer. Soap appeared behind the medic, face pale in a way Hozhoni would have teased him for if she had been able.
Hozhoni’s eyes cracked open.
“Don’t… look scared,” she whispered.
Soap’s mouth trembled into something that was not a smile.
Ghost stood behind him, silent and rigid.
Price came around the vehicle. “Inside. Now.”
The medic nodded. “We need to move her.”
Kyle looked down at Hozhoni. Her eyes were half-closed again, but she was still breathing. Still here. Still stubbornly gripping his shirt like even unconsciousness would have to pry him from her hand.
“I’ll carry her,” Kyle said.
The medic hesitated only a beat, then nodded. “Keep her arm elevated. Don’t jostle the bandage.”
Kyle slid one arm beneath her shoulders and the other under her knees. Hozhoni made a tiny sound of pain. His face twisted.
Her head fell against his chest.
He stepped out into the rain with her in his arms. The new safe location was less a house and more a converted medical flat tucked behind an unmarked building. Lights glowed warm inside. A second medic held the door open. Kyle carried Hozhoni through with the kind of care that made everyone else move out of his way without being told. Inside smelled like antiseptic, clean linen, and hot tea. The medic guided him toward a low examination bed.
Kyle lowered her gently. But Hozhoni’s hand stayed locked in his shirt. Even half-conscious, she wouldn’t let go.
The medic glanced at Kyle. “You can stay beside her.”
“Wasn’t planning on leaving.”
Hozhoni’s fingers loosened only when Kyle’s hand covered hers.
“I’m here,” he said again. “Right here.”
The medic cut away the sleeve around her bandage. Kyle’s jaw clenched at the sight of blood against her skin. Not enough to kill her. Probably not even close. But enough to remind him that bodies were breakable, even hers. Especially hers. The medic cleaned the wound properly, checked depth, wrapped it again, and started warming measures with heated blankets. Hozhoni hissed weakly when antiseptic touched the cut. Kyle leaned close.
“Hurts,” she whispered, sounding ashamed of admitting it. His face softened completely.
Her eyes opened a little.
The question was small. So small it cut straight through him. Kyle bent and kissed her forehead.
“Yes,” he whispered against her skin. “With me, you’re allowed.”
Her eyes filled, then drifted closed again. But her breathing eased. The violent shivering slowed under the heated blankets. Not gone. But less.
The medic checked her pulse again. “Better. She’s responding. Blood pressure’s low but improving. Keep her warm and awake if you can.”
Kyle nodded, though his gaze never left Hozhoni. Soap hovered near the doorway, arms folded tightly. Price stood beside Laswell, voice low as they discussed routes, threats, next steps. Ghost remained near the window, watching the rain. But Kyle sat beside the examination bed, holding Hozhoni’s hand in both of his. No one told him to move. No one dared. After a few minutes, her eyes fluttered open again.
He leaned in immediately.
A breath of laughter left him.
Her gaze drifted over his face, unfocused but searching.
“You called me your girl.”
His heart stopped for one beat. Then restarted painfully.
Kyle looked at her bandaged arm. At her pale face. At the woman who had thrown herself into fear, saved his life with a tea mug, then shivered in his lap calling him her husband. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
Her eyes closed. This time, not from slipping away. From relief.
Kyle rested his forehead against her hand. For once, he did not care who saw him come undone.
The marriage had been a shield at first. A legal wall. A forced arrangement. A paper vow. But somewhere between shattered glass, blood on her sleeve, and her trembling hand in his, Kyle realized the shield had become something else. Not obligation. Not convenience. Something living. Something fierce. Something that made him hold her hand tighter as the blankets warmed her and the room slowly stopped spinning around danger. Hozhoni shivered once more, smaller this time. Kyle brushed his thumb over her fingers.
Her voice was barely there.
And for the first time all morning, Kyle believed they might both survive the shape of what was growing between them.
