Chapter 21

POV: Mike

The second we got back to the safe house, I was on her.

“What the hell was that back there?” My voice was sharp, cutting.

Amanda rolled her eyes as she yanked off her heels, tossing them near the door. “It was me getting the job done. Successfully, might I add.”

I stepped closer, jaw clenched. “I was this close to coming in, Amanda. You don’t get to tell me to sit on my ass while you risk your life like that.”

She scoffed, rubbing a hand over her temple like I was giving her a headache. “I do get to tell you that. Because I know what I’m doing. I handled it.”

My pulse pounded. “You shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”

Her green eyes flashed. “That’s not your decision to make.”

She turned away, heading toward the kitchen. I followed, every muscle in my body still tight. “You don’t get it, do you?” I snapped.

She whirled on me. “Oh, I get it, big guy. You wanted to storm in there, consequences be damned. You always want to storm in when it comes to me.”

“You think that’s a bad thing?”

“I think it’s dangerous.” Her voice cracked on the word, and fuck if that didn’t hit me straight in the chest.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then Lara’s voice cut through the tension. “Okay, enough.”

I blinked, barely noticing that she and Johnny were leaning against the counter, watching us with equal parts amusement and exasperation.

Lara tilted her head. “We all know this argument isn’t about tonight.”

Amanda stiffened.

My throat tightened.

Lara just raised an eyebrow and grabbed a beer from the fridge, handing one to Johnny. “So, unless you two plan to keep dancing around whatever this is, maybe take a breather.” She walked past me, slapping my shoulder. “Or at least have a drink first.”

Johnny chuckled, following her. “Better yet, have several.”

When they disappeared down the hall, Amanda exhaled, leaning against the counter. I ran a hand down my face.

Neither of us said anything for a minute.

Then I grabbed two beers from the fridge, twisting one open and sliding the other to her.

She caught it, hesitating before cracking it open.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

Amanda lifted her gaze.

I exhaled. “For pushing. For… almost blowing it.”

Her lips twitched, like she was deciding whether or not to argue. But then she nodded. “I’m sorry too. For snapping.” She took a sip of her beer, then added, “And for making out with Johnny.”

I coughed. “What?”

A teasing smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “Well, pretending to. But still. Must’ve been rough for you.”

I groaned, scrubbing a hand over my face. “You love torturing me, don’t you?”

She grinned around her beer bottle. “A little.”

I shook my head, but the tension between us had shifted. It was still thick, still humming under my skin, but now it was different.

Quieter.

Heavier.

I watched her take another sip, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. She was still in that dress. Still looked fucking stunning.

And I still wanted to kiss her.

Badly.

Amanda must’ve felt it too because her grip tightened around the bottle. Her breath hitched slightly. Her gaze flicked to my mouth.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then, just when I thought she might close the distance—just when I thought I might—she stepped back.

“I’m gonna go change,” she murmured.

I nodded once, forcing myself to stay rooted in place.

She turned, heading down the hall, leaving me standing there, gripping my beer like it was the only thing keeping me from going after her.

The room was dim, lit mostly by the glow of laptop screens and the occasional flicker of streetlights slipping through the blinds. Papers were spread across the table, half-empty coffee cups and beer bottles scattered between them.

We’d been at this for hours—analyzing everything we pulled from Carl’s office, piecing together the puzzle Horatio and Xavier had spent years trying to keep buried.

And we were finally getting somewhere.

“This is it,” Dana murmured, staring at her screen, eyes sharp with focus. “This isn’t just blackmail material—there are facility blueprints, coded transactions… and look at this.”

She angled the laptop, showing us a list of locations.

Amanda leaned in, tracing a finger along the screen. “These are storage facilities. But this one…” She tapped a specific entry, brow furrowing. “It’s different. Heavily encrypted. More security than the others.”

“That could be it,” Lara said.

“The facial recognition software,” Johnny added.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, forcing myself to stay focused on the mission—on the job. Not on Amanda, standing too damn close, her scent wrapping around me, her voice sending something sharp and deep straight through my ribs.

She was in sweatpants now, a loose hoodie, hair slightly damp from a shower. And yet, she still had my pulse hammering.

I forced my attention back to the screen. “We need to figure out where it is before they realize we have this,” I said, voice rougher than I intended.

Amanda nodded. “If we can decrypt the rest of these files, we might get an exact location.”

“Easier said than done,” Dana muttered. “These encryptions are insane. It’s gonna take time.”

Time.

Something we didn’t have much of.

Everyone kept working, picking through files, throwing around theories, while I kept pacing, my body too restless to stay still.

At some point, Johnny cracked a joke, and Amanda laughed softly. I clenched my jaw, something dark and possessive curling in my chest before I could shove it down.

I needed air.

I stepped out of the room, heading to the back porch. The night was cool, the scent of damp earth and distant rain thick in the air. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open behind me.

I knew who it was before she spoke.

“Figured you could use this,” Amanda said.

I turned. She held out a beer, her fingers wrapped around the bottle, nails tapping softly against the glass.

I took it, our fingers brushing—just barely, but it sent a spark straight down my spine.

She didn’t leave.

Instead, she leaned against the wooden railing, tilting her head back, breathing in the night air.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then, quietly, she said, “We’re close.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She glanced at me, something unreadable flickering in her green eyes. “You should get some rest.”

I huffed a laugh. “That’s funny, coming from you.”

A small smirk tugged at her lips. “Yeah, well. Maybe I want you to rest, big guy.”

That damn nickname.

I swallowed, gripping the bottle a little tighter.

She shifted closer, just an inch, but it was enough. Enough for the heat between us to sharpen, for the air to grow heavier, thicker.

Amanda lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. It was barely a touch, but it was enough to make my breath hitch.

Her fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary before she dropped her hand, turning back toward the yard.

Silence stretched again.

Then I reached out—slow, careful, my pulse hammering as I tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Amanda stilled.

I felt her breath catch, her lips part slightly.

And for a second, I thought—

No.

Not yet.

I forced myself to pull away, stepping back, lifting my beer like it was the only thing keeping me from reaching for her again.

Amanda exhaled, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“We should get back,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” I said, voice hoarse.

Neither of us moved.

Then, finally, she turned, heading inside.

I stayed out a moment longer, gripping the railing, breathing deep.

Almost.

We were so close.

To the mission.

To everything.

And fuck if that didn’t terrify me.

Chapter 22

POV: Mike

We had a location.

A warehouse facility in Virginia—one that didn’t officially exist. The encryption we cracked pointed straight to it, and everything lined up. The facial recognition software was there.

We were this close.

The room buzzed with quiet urgency as everyone prepared. Weapons were checked, tactical gear was laid out, and Lara was already pulling up satellite feeds.

I should’ve been focused.

I was focused.

But Amanda was right there, moving through the space like she belonged in it, like she was built for this. Every motion of hers was precise—packing ammo, securing comms, double-checking maps.

And I was watching her like I had no damn control over myself.

“Alright,” Dana said, adjusting her earpiece. “We move at 06:00. That gives us six hours to prep and brief.”

Everyone nodded.

Amanda slid a gun into her thigh holster, adjusting the strap. I forced my eyes anywhere else.

Then she spoke. “Before we go, I want a team on Barbara and Christopher.”

The words hit me like a punch to the ribs.

I turned to her.

Her expression was steady, controlled—but I knew her too well. There was concern in the way her jaw tightened, in the slight crease between her brows.

“We don’t know how this will go,” she continued. “If Horatio or Xavier suspect anything, they might retaliate. And if they do, Mike’s family is an easy target.”

A muscle in my jaw jumped.

I should have thought of that first.

I knew how Horatio operated. He didn’t just go after the agents hunting him—he went after the people they loved.

Amanda knew it too.

And she was protecting them.

Protecting me.

“Lara,” she said, turning to her, “can we coordinate with our contacts in the agency? Get a black ops team to move them somewhere secure?”

Lara nodded. “Yeah. We’ll make sure even we don’t know where they are.”

I swallowed hard, something thick lodging in my throat.

Amanda didn’t look at me right away. She just checked her weapon again, as if this was just another step in the plan.

But it wasn’t.

This was her making sure my family was safe.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Amanda.”

She glanced up.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I said, “Thank you.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wasn’t expecting me to say it out loud.

“I mean it,” I added. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” she cut in.

Her voice was quiet. Firm.

And suddenly, we were too close.

Her hand brushed mine as she moved past me, and it would’ve been nothing—just an accidental touch—if I didn’t feel it everywhere.

Heat prickled down my spine, every nerve on edge.

I caught her wrist, stopping her. Not hard. Just enough to make her pause.

Her pulse was fast beneath my fingers.

“Amanda.”

She looked up at me, her green eyes dark with something I couldn’t name. Or maybe I just wouldn’t name it.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us let go.

Then Lara cleared her throat from across the room.

We snapped apart like we’d been burned.

Amanda turned away first, running a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. I forced myself to do the same, clenching my fists, trying to push down whatever the hell was unraveling inside me.

“Alright,” she said, voice steady again. “Let’s move.”

And just like that, it was back to business.

But my heart was still pounding.

Because the truth was?

She could call me “big guy.” She could brush it off like it was nothing.

But every time she touched me—every time she looked at me like that—

I felt it.

And I knew she did too.

We were back.

The jet touched down smoothly, but my pulse didn’t.

France was behind us. The mission was ahead. But for now, as we stepped onto U.S. soil, there was a moment—just one—where it felt like more than just another job.

Margaret was the first to reach Amanda, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Amanda,” she breathed, voice thick with relief.

Amanda stiffened for half a second—too much emotion, too fast—but then she exhaled, letting Margaret hold her. “I’m okay,” she murmured.

Margaret pulled back, gripping Amanda’s arms, looking her over like she needed to see for herself. “You better be,” she said, eyes sharp but red-rimmed. “Because if you pull another disappearing act, I swear—”

“I won’t.” Amanda’s voice was quiet. Certain.

Margaret let out a shaky breath and nodded.

Then Gordon stepped forward.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t overwhelm her. He just looked at Amanda like a father who had gotten his daughter back. And when he finally moved, he rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing once.

She met his gaze, and something passed between them—something unspoken but heavy.

I looked away, giving them that moment.

Then Gordon turned to me.

I straightened on instinct, but before I could say anything, he spoke.

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t just words.

It was weight. Gratitude. A trust I wasn’t sure I’d earned.

I nodded. “I wasn’t going to stop until I found her.”

His expression softened just slightly. “I know.”

A beat of silence.

Then the moment passed, and just like that, we were back in mission mode.

The facility was nondescript—just another industrial warehouse, one of a thousand like it. But we knew better.

Lara was already pulling up surveillance on her tablet. Tommy checked his gear. Dana double-checked entry points.

We weren’t bringing in full teams. Too many people, too much attention. This was going to be us.

I adjusted my holster, then felt it—Amanda, moving in beside me.

Close.

My body reacted before my brain could stop it.

Six years apart, but it was muscle memory. We moved in sync. Always had.

She was checking her gun, eyes scanning the perimeter. Focused. Professional. But her shoulder brushed mine, and my pulse jumped.

I wondered if she felt it too.

Probably not.

Except—

“Big guy,” she murmured, just for me.

My grip tightened on my gun.

I glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She didn’t look at me, but a hint of a smile played at her lips. “You ready?”

For the mission? Yeah.

For everything else? Not even close.

But I said, “Always.”

She nodded. And for a second, just one, I let myself believe—if we got through this, if we won—maybe, just maybe, we’d finally talk about what had been building between us for years.

Hope was dangerous.

But standing next to Amanda again, moving with her like we always had?

It was impossible not to feel it.

And this time, I wasn’t letting go.

Chapter 23

POV: Mike

I moved through the dark corridors with Amanda at my side, our steps silent, our breaths steady.

We didn’t need words.

She glanced at me—I knew what she meant. I moved right. She went left.

We cleared the hallway in seconds, moving like we always had, like we were made for this.

Lara and Johnny were covering the opposite wing, sweeping for hostiles.

Dana and Tommy were back in the van, hacking into the security feeds, controlling the doors.

“Left corridor clear,” I murmured into the comm.

“Right is clear too,” Johnny confirmed.

“I’m opening the next door for you now,” Dana said. “Keep moving.”

The door in front of us buzzed, then clicked open.

Amanda was in first, gun up. I followed.

And then—

My pulse slammed.

It was right there.

The servers hummed in the dimly lit room, dozens of monitors glowing softly. And on the center screen—

“Holy shit,” Amanda breathed.

Lines of code, a complex interface, a real-time tracking grid—this was it.

The facial recognition software.

This was what we had been hunting for.

This was what Amanda had sacrificed everything for.

And now—

Now we had it.

“Guys,” I said into the comm, barely containing the urgency in my voice. “We got it. It’s here.”

Lara cursed. “You serious?”

Amanda wasn’t even listening. She was already moving, scanning the screens, fingers flying over the keyboard.

But then—

She stilled.

“Mike,” she murmured.

Something was wrong.

I stepped closer, following her gaze.

And my blood ran cold.

This wasn’t just the facial recognition program.

There were folders. Hundreds of them.

Blackmail material.

Politicians. Agents. CEOs. Even royalty.

“Dana, Tommy,” Amanda called, urgency spiking in her tone. “It’s more than just the software. We just found—”

Static.

The line cut out.

“Dana?” I tried.

Nothing.

Just empty, suffocating static.

Amanda spun toward me, eyes sharp with panic. “They cut our comms.”

I checked my earpiece. The signal was gone.

Lara. Johnny. Dana. No one was responding.

I gritted my teeth. “We need to get out of here.”

Amanda nodded, already moving. But then—

A voice crackled through the speakers.

Not static.

Not Dana.

A slow, familiar voice.

“Going somewhere?”

My stomach dropped.

No.

No, that wasn’t—

Amanda’s entire body tensed. “Tommy?”

A low chuckle. “Surprised?”

My grip on my gun turned white-knuckled. “You son of a bitch.”

“Aw, Mike,” Tommy drawled, mockingly. “I was really hoping you’d be happy to hear my voice.”

“Where the fuck is Dana?” Amanda demanded, voice sharp as a blade.

Tommy sighed. “She’s… occupied. But don’t worry, she’ll live. Can’t say the same for the rest of you.”

I turned toward the door—

It slammed shut.

Locks clicked. Heavy. Reinforced.

I moved fast, yanking on the handle. It didn’t budge.

We were trapped.

“Open the goddamn door, Tommy!“

Another chuckle. “Now, why would I do that?”

Amanda was already at the servers, trying to override the lock, fingers flying.

“You’re making a mistake,” she snapped.

“Am I?” Tommy sounded smug. “Because last I checked, I’m making a hell of a lot of money.”

My heart pounded. “This was you,” I said, breathing hard. ”Six years ago. You sold Amanda out to Horatio.”

Silence.

Then—

“Bingo.”

I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” Tommy continued. “Do you have any idea what kind of money a CIA agent is worth? Let alone two? Horatio made me rich.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Amanda’s hands shook on the keyboard, her face pale but furious.

“But that was then,” Tommy went on. “Now? Oh, now I’m getting so much more.”

I swallowed back the burning rage clawing up my throat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Horatio is on his way.”

The words crashed into me like a bullet.

Amanda froze.

I turned slowly to meet her eyes.

For the first time in years, I saw it.

Real, raw fear.

Tommy hummed. “You two have been a pain in his ass for a long time. But don’t worry—he’s going to enjoy handling this himself.”

Amanda sucked in a sharp breath, then turned back to the computer, typing faster.

I pressed my palm against the locked door, my mind racing.

We had minutes. Maybe less.

We were locked in, comms were down, and Horatio was coming.

And for the first time in years—

I didn’t see a way out.

I never gave up.

Not on her. Not on us.

Not for one goddamn second.

I stared at the locked door, at the monitors filled with blackmail, at the empty comms in my ear—none of it mattered. Not more than her.

Amanda.

I turned to her, my chest tight, my heart hammering. She was kneeling by the servers, hands clenched into fists, jaw tight with rage and something deeper, something raw.

Despair.

Because we both knew.

There was no way out.

Horatio was coming. Tommy had sealed us inside. The mission was over before it even truly began.

And just like that, six years of war, of searching, of never stopping—

All for nothing.

Amanda exhaled sharply and dropped to the floor, her back against the desk, her legs stretched out in front of her. She looked at me, exhaustion in every line of her body.

I sank down beside her, my arms resting on my knees, my hands clasped together so she wouldn’t see them shake.

The silence between us was heavy. Choking.

Then, finally, I broke it.

“I never gave up, you know.”

Amanda turned her head toward me.

I stared straight ahead, focusing on the flashing lights of the servers, afraid that if I looked at her, I’d shatter.

“I never stopped looking,” I said, voice hoarse. “Your father blocked me. He had me transferred, erased every lead I had. But I still searched. Every free moment, every night in my apartment, I tried. I called in every favor, dug through every contact, every whisper of Horatio’s name.”

My throat tightened.

“I never stopped, Amanda.”

Her breath hitched.

Slowly, she turned her face away, staring at the floor like it held all the answers.

Then—

“Neither did I.”

I froze.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it slammed into me like a bullet.

“Six years,” she said, her fingers clenching against her knee. “Six years of running. Hunting. Of never stopping, never resting. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t breathe. I trained. I killed. I hunted him like an animal. And do you know why?”

I turned, my chest rising and falling too fast, too hard.

She let out a bitter laugh.

“Because I thought if I finished this, if I ended it, we could finally be free.”

I closed my eyes, my head dropping forward.

God.

“And now look at us,” she muttered. “Six years for nothing. Because now we’re trapped, and he’s coming, and—”

She stopped herself, exhaling sharply, her voice shaking for the first time since I’d found her again.

“Amanda.”

She didn’t look at me.

I reached out before I could stop myself, my hand closing over hers, gripping it tight.

“Did you ever forget me?” I rasped. “In those six years… did you ever let me go?”

She inhaled sharply, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead—

Her free hand moved under her tactical vest, fingers searching for something beneath the fabric.

And then—

She pulled out a thin chain.

I stopped breathing.

There, hanging from the delicate silver, was the engagement ring I’d given her all those years ago.

The one I thought she’d left behind.

The one I thought was long gone.

I stared.

My heart pounded so hard it hurt, my vision tunneling, my chest aching like something had just cracked wide open inside me.

“Amanda—”

“I never took it off,” she whispered. “Not once.”

I swallowed, my throat too dry, my pulse too erratic.

She was still mine.

She’d never stopped being mine.

My hand trembled as I reached for it, my fingertips barely grazing the ring, tracing the cool metal like it was the only real thing in this goddamn nightmare.

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

She’d never given up.

When I couldn’t search—she had.

When I thought I’d lost her—she was still holding on.

I was shaking, my fingers tightening over hers, my body moving closer until—

Until our foreheads touched.

I could feel her breath against my lips, shallow and uneven.

Her hands gripped my arms, grounding herself, or maybe grounding me.

I searched her face, her green eyes locked onto mine, searching too—

For what, I didn’t know.

For a way out.

For an answer.

For something that had always been there, always been us.

My breath was ragged, hers just as unsteady, our lips just inchs apart coming close and—

And—

The door beeped.

Locks clicked.

Chapter 24

POV: Amanda

The first time I saw him, he looked like a machine.

Everything about him was controlled. Precise. Built for war. Six-six, all muscle, sharp angles, and dark intensity. His face unreadable, his hazel eyes scanning everything without an ounce of emotion. Michael Kevin Lancaster. He moved like a soldier, breathed like one. Even standing still, he looked like he was ready to strike.

He had that sharp, unreadable face that screamed soldier, a man who could rip someone’s throat out if he needed to—if he was ordered to. He was strong. Dangerous. Inaccessible.

Everyone in the training session whispered about him. The new guy. Ex-military. Sniper. Some said he had a past. I knew he did. We all did.

But while everyone else saw a machine, I saw something else. Beneath the thick armor of discipline, the walls of silence, the rigid control—there was a man. A man with ghosts in his eyes. A man who held too much weight on his shoulders. A man who watched, listened, and measured every interaction like it was a battlefield.

But I saw him. I really saw him.

And I saw the walls, too. He had them up high and fortified, keeping everyone at arm’s length. But what he never realized was that I was already inside. I didn’t need to climb. I didn’t need to break anything down. I just walked right in.

He let his guard down around me before he even realized he was doing it. And once I got in, I wasn’t going anywhere.

Michael Kevin Lancaster.

No one called him Michael. And he avoided that middle name like his life depended on it. But me? I knew it. I saw the way he carried himself, the way his jaw clenched when he was deep in thought, the way his hands twitched at his sides when he was restraining himself from acting on an instinct. He was all sharp edges and precision, but beneath all of that, there was more. There was the man no one else got to see.

And from the very start, he let me see him.

I don’t even know when I first called him Big Guy. It just slipped out, and the look he gave me—the way his lips twitched, just barely—told me he didn’t hate it. And when he started calling me Sparky? I knew I had him.

We were partners, training together, moving together, fighting together. My world adjusted to his presence like it had always been meant to fit. We understood each other in ways we never had to say out loud. He’d read my shifts in stance before I moved. I’d catch the way his fingers twitched before he made a call.

It wasn’t just skill—it was us. Our connection. Something that existed before either of us was willing to admit it.

I was in love with him before he ever kissed me.

But he wouldn’t act on it. Not at first. Rules. Work. The job came first. And he thought that meant we had to hold back. That two people like us couldn’t afford to have something real. So I waited.

And I regretted every second of it.

I never told him that. I figured he knew. I figured he felt the same but wouldn’t act on it because of our jobs, because we were agents and it was dangerous, because it was reckless. I thought he was the responsible one, the one who cared too much about the rules to cross that line.

Because when we moved together, when we fought side by side, when our bodies synced up without a single word—none of it was because of training. It was because we understood each other. It was because there was something between us that made us better at what we did.

Then there was that mission. The explosion. The moment where everything could have ended, but he shielded me with his body. He threw himself over me, and I remember the weight of him, the heat, the way my heart pounded in my throat, his body covering mine as debris rained around us, I felt it. That wild, terrifying ache in my chest. Like something had cracked open inside me. I clung to his vest, feeling his heartbeat hammer against my cheek, and I knew. I had never been safer than in that moment—wrapped in his arms, the world burning around us.

He was willing to die for me. And I realized then what I should have known all along.

He wasn’t holding back because of the job.

He was holding back because he was terrified.

But he still didn’t kiss me.

Not until I took a damn bullet.

The pain was sharp, bright, but it was nothing compared to the look on his face. He thought he was losing me. I saw it in his eyes—pure, unfiltered terror. And then, when he realized I was alive, something snapped. He kissed me like he had no choice. Like he’d been holding back for so long that he couldn’t anymore. And God, it was everything. Heat and need and six months of longing poured into one desperate kiss.

That kiss—it was everything. It was desperation and relief and years of pent-up frustration. It was him finally letting go, finally allowing himself to have what he wanted. What we both wanted.

And after that? There was no stopping it, it was over for both of us..

We were together. We were a team before, but this was different.

He loved me in a way I had never known love before—silent, deep, consuming. He wasn’t a man of many words, but when he looked at me, when he touched me, I knew.

And I kept every piece of him he gave me.

He gave me three origami flowers—clumsy but carefully folded—and I hid them in my favorite book like a treasure.

I think about the first time he made me sneak out of the agency for a date. I was raised in this world, in walls filled with secrets and missions and duty. But he made me feel like I could be a person outside of all of it. He made me wear a dress and took me into the city, and the way he looked at me that night—it was the same way he looked at me in our first mission undercover together, like I was something worth stopping the world for.

He kissed me like I was his whole world. And when we were together, in the dark, in bed, it wasn’t just sex. It was more. It was everything.

I was happy. We were happy.

And I never wanted it to end.

Chapter 25

POV: Amanda

Living with him was like living a dream. The way he remembered things. The way he made me feel seen. The way I could breathe when I was with him, like the weight of the agency, of the missions, of everything—disappeared when he held me. And I was so, so happy.

Italy was supposed to be our forever. He proposed to me in a vineyard, under the warm glow of the setting sun, and for a moment, I forgot we were spies. I forgot there was a world beyond that moment. We spent five days there, drinking wine, making love, pretending we had no past and no future, just us, just then.

And then Horatio found us.

They tortured him. They tortured me. And when they wanted to break me, they showed me what they were doing to him. And when that wasn’t enough, Horatio came in and told me exactly what would happen if I didn’t make a choice.

He knew what we were. Knew what we were capable of together. And he knew Mike had a family. A sister. A nephew. Barbara and Christopher. And he would destroy them, wipe them off the earth, if I didn’t walk away. If I didn’t disappear. And he would release everything Mike ever did, every mission, every kill, every classified operation, and it would never stop. They would never be safe. Not as long as Mike and I were together.

So I made the only choice I could.

When they let me go, I was in France. My parents were the first ones to find me. My father, the Director. My mother, still believing in the agency more than anything. They wanted to take me home. But I didn’t care about home. I only wanted to see Mike. But I couldn’t. Because I knew if I did, Horatio would come after us again. So I left. I wrote him the note, told him I loved him, and I disappeared.

But I never stopped looking for a way back.

I hunted Horatio the way I breathed. He was my purpose. My obsession. Because if I could destroy him, if I could burn down everything he built, maybe—maybe I could go back. Maybe Mike and I could have what we were supposed to have.

But something went wrong. I had been tracking Xavier for months, believing he was the key to Horatio, and I walked straight into a trap. They kidnapped me. And when I saw Mike, when he was suddenly there, breaking through my prison, for a second, I thought I was hallucinating. That my mind had finally snapped after days of no food, no water, no sleep.

But he was real. And when he held me, when he said my name—my heart stopped.

I had been drowning for six years. And suddenly, I could breathe again.

The last few days felt like a ghost of the past, like slipping back into the rhythm of years ago—when Mike and I worked together as the perfect team, always knowing each other’s moves, predicting reactions before they happened. But now, there was a weight pressing against my chest, heavier than before.

Back then, it was simple. At least, it seemed simple. We had feelings neither of us were willing to admit, tension crackling beneath the surface of every touch, every lingering glance. But now? Now there were six years of silence, of separation, of pain. Six years of nights spent chasing ghosts and hunting demons so that maybe—just maybe—we could have a future.

I never knew where Mike’s heart was back then, and I still didn’t know now. He was right here, inches away, fighting beside me, covering my back like he always had. But where was he—truly? Did he resent me for leaving? Did he regret loving me at all?

It was a dangerous thing, hope. And yet, I couldn’t stop hoping. Every time I caught him looking at me, every time his touch lingered just a little too long, I felt it again—the pull, the gravity that had always drawn us together.

And then he broke me.

“I never gave up,” he said, his voice hoarse, raw. His hazel eyes locked onto mine, burning with an intensity that stole my breath. “You hear me, Sparky? I never stopped looking for you. Your father blocked me, the agency buried you, but I didn’t stop. I tried every contact, every back channel. Every night in my apartment, I was looking for you. Looking for Horatio. Trying to end this.”

His words hit me like a gut punch. I swallowed, my throat tight, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Mike—”

“I never let you go,” he whispered, stepping closer. “Not for a damn second.”

Tears burned at the back of my eyes, and I forced out a bitter laugh. “I spent six years hunting him. Six years of my life, obsessed, not stopping, not resting. And for what? We’re trapped here. It was all for nothing.”

He shook his head. “No. Tell me, Amanda. In all these years, did you ever forget me?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. My fingers trembled as I reached for the chain beneath my tactical gear. Slowly, I pulled it free, letting the small, familiar weight slide against my fingers before lifting it into the dim light.

His ring. His engagement ring.

I had never taken it off.

Mike sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, and I saw it—the moment it hit him, the realization sinking into his bones. His hand lifted, trembling slightly, his fingers brushing against the ring before tracing it with reverence, as if touching it would confirm that this was real.

His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling too fast. “Amanda…” His voice was wrecked, full of something so raw it made my heart ache.

I barely had time to react before his hands came up, cupping my face with the kind of care that broke me apart. His forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine, so close I could feel the heat of him, the way he was unraveling right alongside me.

I closed my eyes, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing tethering me to the earth. I felt him tilt his head just slightly, felt his breath ghost over my lips—

And then the door burst open.

We tore apart, weapons up, bodies snapping back into mission mode, but my heart was still racing for a completely different reason.

Mike never let me go.

And I never let him go either.

Chapter 26

POV: Mike

The door burst open, and instinct took over. Amanda and I moved in sync, guns drawn, muscles tense, ready to shoot first and ask questions later. My heart was still hammering from what had just happened—the ring, the almost-kiss, the way she looked at me like she had never stopped loving me. But none of that mattered in this second. Threats came first. Always.

Then Dana’s voice crackled in our earpieces.

“I never truly trusted Tommy,” she said, her voice sharp, clipped. “His encryption methods are trash. I don’t trust a guy who codes like that. So I left some safe spots in everything we worked on. And even now, while he’s running, I already have agents after him.”

Amanda exhaled next to me, and I stole a glance at her. She had that same expression she always did after a mission took an unexpected turn—calculating, adapting, two steps ahead. Her fingers flexed on her gun, but she wasn’t lowering it yet.

Dana continued, “I also just did you a favor—I opened the doors for you to get the hell out.”

Relief flickered in Amanda’s eyes, but before we could move, a voice echoed through the hall.

“Going somewhere?”

That voice. That goddamn voice.

Horatio.

He stepped into the dim light like he belonged there, like he wasn’t the most hunted man in the world, like we weren’t seconds away from ending his miserable life. He was calm, too calm, with that same smug look he always had when he thought he had control of the board.

“You two,” he mused, shaking his head. “It’s almost poetic. A perfect team. A perfect love story. And yet, you let your emotions get in the way of who you are. Agents.”

Amanda stiffened beside me, but she didn’t speak. I felt the weight of his words settle between us, the past clawing its way back. He had already stolen six years from us. He wasn’t getting another second.

“You really think this ends with me?” Horatio continued. “Even if you kill me, someone else will take my place. There will always be another name, another enemy, another war to fight.” He smirked, eyes flicking to Amanda. “And that’s why I know you’ll never be together. Because you both belong to this life more than you belong to each other.”

He was trying to get in her head. I saw it. I felt it. And I wanted to rip his throat out for it.

“You talk too much,” I said, stepping forward, my gun aimed straight at his forehead. “Let’s end this.”

The moment snapped like a live wire. Horatio moved first, reaching for his weapon. I fired, but he dodged, and chaos erupted.

Gunfire.

Amanda diving to the side.

Horatio’s men spilling in from the hallway.

I moved without thinking, a bullet grazing my arm, but I didn’t feel it. All I cared about was Amanda, keeping her covered, keeping her safe. She was pure force, dropping two of Horatio’s men with clean, sharp shots.

Then I heard it.

The sound I never wanted to hear again.

A gunshot.

A small gasp.

Amanda’s body jerking backward.

My world tilted off its axis.

She hit the ground, her breath ragged, her hand pressing against her side where blood was already staining her shirt. I stopped breathing. My mind blanked. Everything blurred, except for the crimson spreading beneath her fingers.

“Amanda.”

I was on my knees before I even realized I had moved, my hands hovering over her, my chest tightening so hard I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Stay with me,” I choked out. “Amanda, stay with me.”

She blinked up at me, fighting to stay conscious, her lips parting—but I didn’t hear whatever she tried to say.

Because the next thing I saw was Horatio standing there, his gun still raised, his expression unreadable.

Red.

Everything went red.

I moved on instinct, my rage white-hot, blinding. I stood, aimed, and fired. Twice to the head. Once to the heart. Just to be sure.

Horatio’s body hit the ground, lifeless, and I didn’t give a damn.

I turned back to Amanda, scooping her into my arms, pressing down on her wound, panic clawing at my throat.

“You’re okay,” I said, my voice shaking. “You’re gonna be okay.”

She was still looking at me, her hand reaching for my arm, gripping weakly. I saw it in her eyes—she was fighting, but she was fading.

“Help is coming,” Lara’s voice cut through my earpiece, but she sounded far away. “Hold on, Mike. We’ve got her.”

I held Amanda tighter, my forehead pressing against hers.

“Don’t do this to me,” I whispered. “Not again.”

Her lips curled just slightly, the barest hint of a smile. “Big guy…” she breathed, and then her eyes fluttered closed.

And for the second time in my life, I thought I had lost her.

I held Amanda like I could keep her alive just by sheer will. My hands were covered in her blood, pressing against the wound, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough. Her breath was shallow, her face too pale, and I could feel my own heart tearing apart with every second that passed.

“Stay with me, baby,” I murmured, my forehead pressing against hers, not giving a damn that Lara and Johnny were still taking out Horatio’s men around us. “Just stay.”

The help arrived in a blur. I barely registered them pulling her from my arms, barely heard the rush of orders and movement as they loaded her into the emergency vehicle. I climbed in after them, refusing to let go. Refusing to be separated from her again.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and death, and I paced the waiting area like a caged animal. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Amanda was in surgery. The words kept repeating in my head like a damn mantra I couldn’t escape. I had seen her shot before. I had seen her hurt. But this—this felt different. Maybe because we finally had a chance, and now fate was trying to rip it away from me again.

Gordon and Margaret arrived not long after. When I saw them, I straightened, saluting out of instinct, but Gordon shook his head.

“Not here, son” he said quietly. “Here, we are not the McDawsons. We’re just Gordon and Margaret. We’re family.”

The word hit me hard, knocking the air out of my lungs. I wasn’t just standing there as an agent. I was standing there as the man who loved their daughter. The man who should’ve had a future with her.

Gordon stepped closer. His expression was solemn, his voice thick with something I had never heard from him before—regret.

“Mike,” he said, and for the first time, he looked less like a commanding officer and more like a father. “I need you to forgive me.”

I swallowed hard. My throat was too tight. “For what?”

“For not telling you the truth.”

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

“If I had told you why Amanda really left, you wouldn’t have let her go. You would’ve fought to the ends of the earth for her. And she knew that. She made me swear not to tell you.”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “What are you saying?”

Gordon exhaled, his eyes filled with something heavy. “She didn’t leave you because she wanted to, son. She left because she was protecting you. Horatio threatened your family. Your reputation. He had dirt on you, and he was ready to use it. Amanda knew that if you found out, you wouldn’t stop until you killed him—even if it cost you everything. She took that burden on herself so you wouldn’t have to.”

My knees nearly gave out.

I had spent six years thinking she left me. That she didn’t love me enough to stay. And the whole damn time, she was carrying the weight of my world on her shoulders.

Margaret stepped forward then, her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me like a mother would. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “For bringing her home.”

The weight of it all crushed me. I let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in years, I felt tears burn in my eyes. A soldier doesn’t cry. A man like me doesn’t break. But in that moment, I did.

We waited. We waited for what felt like forever.

Johnny, Lara, and Dana arrived at some point, filling us in on what happened. Tommy was arrested. Gordon swore he’d never see the light of day again. Horatio was dead. They had everything they needed to bring down Horatio’s entire network. Years of work, finally coming to an end.

But none of that mattered.

All that mattered was Amanda.

And she was still in surgery.

Chapter 27

POV: Amanda

I woke up to a dull, aching pain spreading through my side, my body feeling both heavy and weightless at the same time. My eyelids were stubborn, resisting the effort to open, but I forced them apart, blinking against the blinding white of the hospital room. The beeping of machines, the sterile smell, the crisp sheets tucked too tightly around me—it all came rushing in at once.

For a moment, I was lost. Floating between memories of gunfire, Horatio’s voice slithering into my mind, and the suffocating pressure of knowing it could all end. But then—

“Amanda.”

My head turned before I could process the voice. And there he was.

Mike.

His hazel eyes were dark with exhaustion, but the relief in them nearly knocked the air out of me. He looked like hell—unshaven, eyes rimmed red, his knuckles raw like he’d been gripping onto something too tightly.

He was gripping onto me too tightly.

“You’re awake,” he said, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, my body sluggish, but my mind was catching up. My parents were there too. My mother’s face was tight with held-back emotions, and my father—God, my father—looked older, like these past days had stolen years from him.

And then Johnny, Lara, and Dana. Relief on their faces, smiles breaking through exhaustion.

I tried to speak, but my throat betrayed me. I reached out instead, my fingers weak but determined, and Mike caught my hand instantly, threading his fingers through mine like he was afraid I’d disappear.

“Horatio?” I croaked. The last thing I remembered was the chaos, the gunfire, and Mike’s voice calling my name.

Mike’s jaw tensed, but then he exhaled. “Dead.” His voice was low, firm, final. “I killed him myself.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, my body sinking into the mattress. It was over. The weight of it hit me all at once. The years of chasing, the years of running, the sacrifices, the pain, the loss. It was over.

They told me the mission was a success, that Tommy was arrested, that Xavier was going to give up everyone he had blackmail on. That this was bigger than just one win—it was the kind of victory that would ripple through every dark corner we had fought against.

But none of it mattered. Not in this moment.

Because Mike was still holding my hand, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles over my skin, and I knew—

I was alive.

I was finally safe.

And for the first time in six years, I wasn’t alone.

Everyone eventually filtered out, giving us space. My parents hesitated the longest, my father squeezing my shoulder, my mother pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. Then it was just us.

Mike didn’t move, didn’t let go.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered, voice thick with something raw.

I tried to smile, but it came out weak. “You always wait until I get shot to kiss me.”

He let out a breath, something caught between a laugh and a curse, shaking his head. “You think I wanted it to be like this?”

And then he kissed me.

Soft, careful, like I was something fragile—when we both knew I was anything but. But I melted into him anyway, the warmth of his lips, the scent of him wrapping around me, pulling me in. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was everything we had held back, everything that had been left unspoken. It was a promise, sealed between us in the space of a single breath.

I pulled him closer, wincing at the pull of stitches, but I didn’t care. He exhaled against my lips, his forehead pressing against mine.

“You’re stuck with me, McDawson. I’m not letting you go again. I don’t care what it takes.”

“You sure you’re ready for me again, Lancaster? I’m a lot.”

He chuckled, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I’m counting on it. And you better prepare yourself, McDawson. When you’re healed, we’re going to do this right.”

I smiled, exhaustion tugging at me again, but for the first time in years, I felt safe. “I love you, big guy. Always.”

His grip on me tightened. “Always.”

The dinner at the agency’s meeting room felt more like a family gathering than an official event. Mike had spent the entire day teasing me about how ridiculous it was to celebrate in a place meant for classified briefings, but now, with his arms wrapped around my waist, spinning me around in the middle of the room, I could tell he didn’t actually mind.

My parents were there, watching us with a mix of amusement and exasperation. Johnny, Lara, and Dana sat nearby, all of them smiling as if they had been waiting for this moment forever.

Mike stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder as he spoke into my ear. “You know, I always dreamed of having a home to bring my friends to, not… an agency conference room.”

I smirked, leaning back into his chest. “Oh, come on, it has character. Bulletproof windows, top-tier security, and my father’s looming presence—what more could we want?”

Mike chuckled, his lips brushing my temple. “Romantic.”

The teasing started almost immediately.

“So,” Lara smirked, raising her glass, “does this mean the agency’s infamous duo, The alpha couple, is officially back together? Professionally and otherwise?”

“We were never really apart,” Mike said, pulling me even closer.

“Please,” Johnny rolled his eyes. “I needed to watch this man suffering for all these years, is good to see you two back together, and engaged now, finally…”

I grinned and glanced at Mike, who only raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. He was too busy tracing small circles on my waist with his thumb. I turned back to the group, deciding to add to the moment.

“Well, to be fair,” I said, holding up my left hand so the ring caught the light, “Mike already proposed to me six years ago.”

My mother nearly choked on her drink. My father’s eyes widened. Johnny and Lara both shouted, “What?!” in perfect unison, and Dana just smirked like she had figured it out a long time ago.

Mike, the bastard, just grinned like he had been waiting for me to drop that bombshell.

“He did,” I confirmed. “And then, just to make sure, he proposed again.”

I touched the chain around my neck where the ring had hung for years before I put it back on my finger. “I never took it off. Not really. During missions, it’ll stay here, but otherwise…” I looked up at Mike, feeling the warmth of his gaze settle deep in my chest. “I’m finally wearing it the way I should.”

Margaret pressed a hand to her chest, clearly overwhelmed, while Gordon just shook his head with a resigned smile. “You are your mother’s daughter, Amanda.”

“Damn right I am,” I said.

Johnny, however, shifted slightly, exchanging an awkward glance with Dana. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, uh, if you two are back as partners… where does that leave the team?”

Dana crossed her arms, arching a brow. “Yeah, exactly. If the legendary duo is back in action, what happens to the new structure?”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a forkful of cake. “Are you two seriously worried about logistics right now?” I chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. “I spent six damn years of my life chasing that son of a bitch. If I want my own team, I’m getting my own team. I didn’t go through hell just to be told otherwise.”

Everyone went silent, eyes flicking between me and Gordon, who stood at the head of the table, sipping his whiskey. He exhaled heavily before giving a nonchalant shrug. “Fine. Whatever you want, kid.”

I smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Lara and Johnny laughed, and even Dana cracked a small smile. The tension broke, and soon enough, conversation filled the room again.

Mike just leaned in, his voice low in my ear. “You’re getting cocky.”

I chuckled.

Conversation shifted, drinks were poured, and for the first time in a long time, we were all just… at peace. I felt Mike’s hand slip under the table, his fingers resting on my thigh, squeezing lightly. When I turned to look at him, his hazel eyes gleamed with mischief and something deeper, something that made my breath catch.

He leaned in, his voice just for me. “Enjoy the celebration, sweetheart. Because once we’re alone, I’m going to remind you exactly what you’ve been waiting six years for.”

A slow heat curled in my stomach, and I barely held back a smirk. “Big words, Lancaster.”

His thumb brushed over my skin, sending a shiver up my spine. “You’ll see.”

And just like that, the next chapter of our lives had already begun.

Chapter 28

POV: Amanda

The moment we stepped inside his apartment, Mike shut the door behind us with a quiet click. I barely had time to take in the familiar scent of him—leather, gunpowder, and something purely Mike—before he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me flush against his body. His forehead rested against mine, his breath warm, his hazel eyes dark with something raw, something that had been caged for far too long.

“I waited six fucking years for this,” he murmured, his voice rough, laced with something between desperation and absolute certainty. “Now I’m gonna take all the time I want with you.”

I barely had time to breathe before his lips crashed onto mine. The kiss was voracious, a claiming, an explosion of everything we had held back for too long. My fingers found his neck, nails scratching lightly before I slid my hands lower, pushing his shirt up, needing to feel his skin, to remind myself that he was real, that this was real.

He groaned into my mouth, his hands already moving, gripping my thighs and hoisting me up effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct as his lips found my jaw, my neck, my collarbone. He was relentless, like he was making up for every second we’d lost.

He carried me to the bedroom, and the moment he laid me down on the bed, a memory of the first time we had been together here flashed through my mind. But this was different. It was familiar, yet somehow new, like we had been reset, and this was the first time all over again.

I reached for the hem of my dress, peeling it off slowly, teasing, savoring every second of this moment. His eyes followed every movement, his hands gripping the sheets like he was holding himself back. “You’re killing me,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

“Good,” I teased, letting the dress pool on the floor, leaving me in only my panties. The same black lace ones I’d worn that night in L.A. But this time, he was the one who got to take them off.

His fingers trailed along my hips, his mouth following, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my stomach. When he reached the waistband of my panties, he hooked his fingers under the fabric and dragged them down, his gaze locked on mine. “These are mine now,” he murmured before tossing them aside.

The moment his mouth met my center, I gasped, my back arching off the bed. He kissed me there like he’d been starving for it, like he needed to taste me, to remind himself of exactly how I came apart for him. His hands gripped my thighs, keeping me open, keeping me his.

He knew exactly how to play my body, like I was an instrument and he was the only one who knew the melody. He teased, he licked, he sucked until my moans filled the room, until I shattered against his mouth, my body writhing beneath him. But he didn’t stop. He kept going, making me come again, his name a desperate cry from my lips.

But it wasn’t enough. I needed him. All of him. My hands found his belt, and I tugged until he let me strip him bare. The moment I wrapped my hand around his length, he cursed under his breath, his jaw clenching. I took him into my mouth, tasting, savoring, memorizing every reaction until I felt him twitch, until his fingers tightened in my hair and he pulled me up.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice thick with need. But this time, I was the one who took control, straddling his lap, sinking down onto him inch by inch, feeling him stretch me, fill me. A gasp left my lips as my body adjusted, as he gritted his teeth, his hands gripping my hips.

“Fuck, Amanda…”

I started moving, setting the pace, slow at first, then faster as the pleasure built, as the need became too much. His lips found mine again, devouring, claiming, until suddenly he twisted, pinning me beneath him, taking control.

He thrust into me, deep and slow, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged. His thumb found my clit, circling, teasing, until I was right there, teetering on the edge. “Come for me,” he whispered, and that was all it took. My body tightened, my pleasure bursting through me in waves as I cried out his name.

He followed right after, groaning against my skin, his body pressing into mine, his lips claiming my mouth once more as we unraveled together.

For a long moment, we just lay there, tangled in each other, breathing heavily, smiling, laughing softly in the aftermath. His fingers traced lazy circles on my back, his lips brushing my temple.

“God, I fucking love you,” he murmured.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I love you too, Mike. Always.”

And this time, there was nothing left standing between us.