Page 230 of Operation: Defiance

Chapter Sixty-Four

Raine

I wake to cool sheets and the violent, disorienting certainty that Asher’s already gone.

Until the shower turns on.

The air rushes back into my lungs. A single tear hits the pillow.

I haven’t lost him. Yet.

For a brief moment, I consider going directly to the laptop. I still need to identify which organization has the best chance of verifying the evidence fast enough to get it into the public record before anyone can bury it.

Instead, I follow the sound of the water.

Asher stands under the spray, his back to me, hands braced on the wall of the shower.

He doesn’t hear me come in. I don’t move right away, taking in the sight of him. The old scar. The dusting of reddish brown hair on his legs. The way his ass flexes when he reaches for the soap.

Eventually, I can’t stand the idea of this much space between us. Not when there’s so much left to say and so little time to say it.

“Asher.”

He turns slowly, a tired smile curving his lips, and holds out his hand.

The water is hot enough to sting. The sensation anchors me while my mind cycles through everything he needs to know before he walks out the door.

“Keep your shoulders loose.” I take the soap from him, working up a lather and tracing patterns over his chest. “If they cuff your hands overhead, don’t fight the angle.”

“Good morning to you too,” he says, and plants a light kiss to my forehead.

“I’m serious.” My voice stays steady by will alone. “They’ll expect resistance. Don’t give them any excuse to hurt you.”

He draws me against him, his expression open in a way that makes my heart ache. “Raine.”

“They’ll distort time. Make you think it’s been longer—or shorter—than it has been. Don’t refuse water. Dehydration is one of the first ways you’ll lose focus.”

His hands mold to my waist. “I know how these sorts of things generally go. I’ve survived them before.”

“Not this,” I manage. “GSD…they won’t play by the rules. Not after I send the first batch of files.”

My mind fractures, part of it here with Asher, memorizing how his hands feel against my skin, another part working out what I’ll say when—if—Northbridge makes contact, and the last part screaming at the injustice of…everything.

He brushes his thumb along the line of my jaw. “You don’t have to coach me through it.”

“Yes, I do. Please.”

If I can’t focus on logistics, I’ll say something else. I’ll blurt out the three words that will break me if he doesn’t come back. They might break me anyway, but if he’s here, at least I’ll survive it.

“If they don’t let you sleep, use the breaks. Don’t refuse medical care. Document everything in your head.”

He exhales once, almost a laugh. “You’re much better with that than I am.”

“If they move you between rooms, count steps. Turns, doors, walls. Build a map. Even if you never need it, it’ll keep your head clearer if you treat everything like a problem to solve.”

He traces slow circles over my lower back with his thumbs. Does he know how much the sensation grounds me? How much I’ve come to depend on it? How scared I am to lose this?

“Time is the first thing they’ll strip away. But when they escalate—because they will once I start releasing information—you’ll be able to find it again. I’ll have the first packet out before five. I don’t know when the others will go, but⁠—”