Page 41 of Rebel
Then he kisses me.
It’s nothing like I expected. No finesse, no restraint. Just need, pure and unfiltered. His hand grips my jaw, mine fists in his shirt. The taste of blood, salt, and smoke fills my mouth. Every part of me that’s been clenched since Alex’s death finally cracks open.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “You okay?”
“No.” My voice breaks. “Yes.”
Sirens wail somewhere nearby, closer every second. I swallow hard, force air back into my lungs. “That never happened.”
He huffs a laugh, rough and low. “Keep telling yourself that.”
We pull apart just as blue lights flash against the warehouse walls. Carter tucks the pistol into his waistband, eyes already scanning for exits.
The taste of him lingers. I wish it didn’t feel like the most honest thing I’ve had in years. Even with Bones, that was all superficial. This, what I feel for Carter, surpasses Bones a million times.
Divine comes through our comms.“Go to the safehouse. Do not come back to the compound just yet, until the heat dies down.”
Carter looks back once as we step into the night. “You ready?”
“For what?”
He smiles, grim and certain. “For war.”
We disappear into the dark. Two outlaws bound by blood, betrayal, and something neither of us dares name yet.
The ride to the safehouse feels longer than it should. The sirens fade behind us, the city stretching out like a wound that won’t close. I can still taste him. Still feel his hands. Still hear the echo of gunfire in the space between breaths.
By the time we reach the Harlots’ safehouse, the adrenaline’s curdled into exhaustion. Divine’s already waiting out front, tablet in hand, hair up, fury in her eyes. French leans against the doorway, smirking like she’s been dying to sayI told you so.
Carter cuts the engine. I swing off the bike, legs shaking,heart still trying to find a rhythm that doesn’t sound like his name.
Divine’s voice is low and lethal. “You tripped three alarms, fried a data relay, and led a convoy through half of downtown.” She tilts her head. “So tell me, was it worth it?”
I hold up the drive. “Depends on how much you like answers.”
That stops her. For a moment, the fight drains from her shoulders. She takes the drive like it’s a holy relic, turns it over in her hands. “You got it?”
“Every file, every transfer, every name.” I pause, glancing at Carter. “Even the ones we weren’t supposed to find.”
Divine whistles low. “Well, shit.” Then, under her breath, “You really are your brother’s sister.”
French crosses her arms, grinning. “And she didn’t even die this time. Proud of you, sugar.”
“Barely,” I mutter.
“Still counts.” French glances at Carter, eyes narrowing just enough to make me twitch. “And you, Soldier Boy, how’s the jaw? You look like you ran into a building. Or Rebel.”
He smirks, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Something like that.”
Divine waves her hand. “Alright, children. Let’s get inside before the neighbors decide to call in a noise complaint.”
The safehouse smells like gun oil, lemon cleaner, and too much caffeine. French brews coffee while Divine plugsthe drive into her rig, screens lighting up the room with blue and white pulses. I drop onto the couch, every bone in my body vibrating with fatigue.
Carter kneels in front of me, med kit open. “Let me see your arm.”
“I’m fine.”
He gives methatlook, the one that makes it clear arguing would be a waste of oxygen. He reaches for my forearm, rolls my sleeve up, and cleans the burn I didn’t even realize I had. His hands are steady, gentle, and annoyingly careful.
