Chapter One Hundred and Eighty- Eight
Slowly, and carefully, he lowered the gun from her head. Not fully. Just enough.
To her men, it still looked like control.
To her, it felt like trust.
Her chest ached.
"This ends badly," she whispered.
His grip finally loosened. His hand slid from her arm, lingering for one last grounding second before he stepped back.
"I know," he said softly. "It always does with us."
Space returned between them, thin and dangerous.
The space between them remained taut, electric, dangerous, and neither of them wanted to move… not yet. Though it was wrong, it felt so right being in each other's arms. Dangerously so. Every second stretched, every heartbeat loud enough to feel in the other's chest.
Then, a sound. Low at first, distant, but unmistakable came. Tires screeching against dirt.
Ahmet's eyes flicked toward the noise, alert instantly, gun still half-lowered.
