Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I nod, feeling a tiny thread of anxiety tugging at me at the thought of being separated, even briefly. But I trust him, and I trust that we’re safe now.
He hesitates at the doorway, glancing back. “Call if you need me. I’m right outside.”
“I know,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
The door closes gently behind him, leaving me in the quiet stillness of the bathroom. I lean back, closing my eyes, letting the warmth soak into my bones as my mind drifts back to Wade. I remember his eyes—wild, terrified, filled with the raw desperation of someone backed into a corner. He was unraveling, scrambling for control, and I was just a tool, a pawn in a twisted game.
I release a shaky breath, sinking further beneath the bubbles. I could have died tonight. But Asher came for me. I can still feel the strength of his arms, and hear the determination in his voice when he promised to keep me safe.
Warmth floods through me again, and this time it isn’t from the water. It’s from knowing that Asher Hawke loves me. He truly loves me. Not because of my family name or trust fund or social standing, but for who I am. And tonight proved how deeply I love him back.
When the water begins to cool, I carefully pull myself from the tub, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel before dressing in the soft pajamas Asher laid out for me earlier. My limbs feel heavy with exhaustion, but my heart feels lighter.
Stepping out into the bedroom, I find Asher sitting on the edge of the bed, phone on the nightstand, his gaze lifting immediately at the sound of the door.
“Everything okay?” he asks quietly, watching me closely as I move toward him.
“Better now.” I climb into bed, wincing slightly. He immediately moves closer, carefully pulling the covers over me and settling beside me, his arm a comforting anchor around my waist.
I lay my head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear. His hand gently strokes through my hair, his breath warm and even. “You’re safe now, Charlotte. It’s over.”
I lift my gaze to his, the intensity in his eyes drawing me in deeper. “Thank you for saving me tonight.”
He cups my cheek tenderly, brushing a thumb across my skin. “You don’t have to thank me. I’d tear the world apart for you. I realized tonight, losing you isn’t something I could survive.”
My heart stutters, tears blurring my vision. “I love you,” I whisper.
His breath catches slightly, eyes softening. “Charlotte, you’re everything I never knew I wanted. I love you more than I ever imagined possible. When this is behind us, I want a future with you. I want to build something real together.”
I smile softly, warmth flooding through every bruise and ache, healing wounds deeper than skin. “I want that too. More than anything.”
He leans forward, gently brushing his lips against mine, warm and reassuring. Then he pulls me into his arms, holding me close, and the exhaustion finally overtakes me.
Wrapped in his embrace, I drift toward sleep, secure and loved, for the first time in my life truly believing that my future belongs only to me.
28
Asher
Charlotte relaxes into sleep against my chest. Her breathing’s slow, soft, with the faintest hitch each time she shifts over a fresh bruise. I keep perfectly still and let her weight ground me, but my mind refuses to power down. Dean’s last call was a dead end. Sheriff units lost Wade’s trail two miles past the county line. Highway cameras show only taillights vanishing onto an unpaved service road. Cartel money, desperation, local terrain thick with hunting cabins. Too many places to hole up.
I stare across the dim suite. The drapes are drawn, the balcony door triple-latched, and the bathroom door is ajar. The digital clock on the dresser ticks from 03:17 to 03:18. Every minute Wade stays missing is another minute he could recalibrate—a cornered animal with nothing left to lose is always the most unpredictable variable in the field.
Charlotte murmurs, lashes fluttering, and reflexively I tighten my arm around her as I run a thumb along her shoulder blade until she settles. Minutes stretch. I catalog threats the way some people count sheep. Exterior: resort perimeter patrols increased—good, but they’re hospitality staff, not field-tested. Interior: our floor has two stairwells and a service lift Wade could breach with a stolen badge. I slipped a chair under the main suite handle, but that buys only ten seconds. Ten seconds might be enough—or not.
Decision: shower, clear head, re-evaluate defense grid.
I ease out from under Charlotte—slow as extracting a detonator wire—pillow replacing warmth at her back. She sighs but stays asleep. I ghost across the carpet, grab the Glock from the nightstand, and step into the bathroom. The marble tiles are cool; the mirror shows an unfamiliar version of me: bruised knuckles, beard shadow, eyes too awake. I lock the door, prop the pistol within arm’s reach on the vanity, strip off clothes that still carry the scent of lake water and adrenaline.