Page 42 of Rebel
“You know,” he murmurs, taping a bandage over the wound, “for someone who says she doesn’t need saving, you sure keep getting shot at.”
I glare. “Maybe you’re bad luck.”
“Or maybe you’re addicted to trouble.”
“Same difference.”
His mouth twitches, half amusement, half warning. “You almost got yourself killed tonight.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, eyes catching mine, “but it’d be the last. And I’m not ready for that.”
The words hang there, heavier than gunfire. I don’t know what to do with them, so I don’t. French snorts from the counter, breaking the moment.
“Don’t get sentimental, Soldier. She’ll bite.”
Carter’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Yeah,” he says softly, “I know.”
He finishes bandaging me, his fingersbrushing my skin once more before he stands. The room hums with silence again, save for Divine’s typing.
She glances up, eyes sharp behind her glasses. “You two want good news or bad?”
“Bad,” I say.
“The Vultures weren’t just laundering money.” She gestures at the screen. “They’re buying muscle. Private contractors, small arms dealers, shipping routes. Someone’s building an army, and they’re doing it under your brother’s name.”
My chest tightens. “Then we burn it down.”
Divine’s grin is sharp. “Already working on it, babe.”
French hands me a cup of coffee, then clinks her mug against mine. “Family, fists, forgiveness, and now a little vengeance. About damn time.”
I smile, but it feels fragile. “You forgot fire.”
“Didn’t have to. That’s your department.”
Later, when the others are asleep and Divine’s screens dim to standby, I step out onto the balcony. The city glows below, endless and cold. My reflection stares back in the glass. Bloodstained, bruised, but alive.
Carter joins me without a word, two mugs in hand. He offers me one, steam curling between us. His knuckles are still raw. Mine too.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.
“Didn’t try.”
“Same.”
I sip the coffee. “We make a good team.”
He watches me over the rim of his mug. “Is that what we are?”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “For now.”
He nods slowly, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Then for now,” he says, “I’ll take it.”
The night hums quietly and endlessly around us. For the first time in years, I don’t feel completely alone in the silence.
Somewhere below, the city keeps breathing. And for once, so do I.
