Chapter 38: The Safehouse (Nate POV)

The headlights blazed, pinning us in the dark, my heart slamming against my ribs. I froze, my legs shaky, my hand clutching Liam’s arm. “Run,” he hissed, his voice low, pulling me hard to the side. My feet stumbled, my head spinning, but I moved, following him into the shadows. The car didn’t follow, not yet, but the roar of its engine stayed loud, close, hunting us.

We ran, my breath burning, my side aching where I’d been hit. Liam led, his grip tight, weaving us through backstreets, alleys, anywhere the lights couldn’t reach. My legs screamed, my wrists raw from the ropes, but I kept going, Liam’s hand my anchor. He’d come for me, fought for me, and that kept me moving, even when I wanted to drop.

We slowed after a while, my chest heaving, the streets quiet now. A rundown motel loomed ahead, peeling paint, flickering sign, half the letters out. “Here,” Liam said, his voice rough, pulling me toward it. My head pounded, my body heavy, but I nodded, too tired to argue. He shoved cash at the clerk—no questions, no ID—and got us a key. My hands shook as we climbed the stairs to a room.

The door clicked shut behind us, the lock loud in the quiet. The room smelled like dust and old smoke—stained carpet, a lumpy bed, one lamp buzzing dimly. I sank onto the mattress, my legs giving out, my breath still fast. Liam locked the door, checked the window, then turned to me, his face bruised, his shirt torn. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching mine.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice weak, my hands rubbing my wrists. “You?”

“Been better,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes were tired, worried. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom—rough, thin—and wet it under the tap. His hands were steady despite the cuts on them. “Let me see,” he said, sitting next to me, reaching for my face.

I flinched, my cheek stinging where blood had dried. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice shaky, but he didn’t listen, pressing the towel gently against my skin. My breath caught, my hands clenched the bed. He wiped slow and careful, his face close, his eyes on mine. My chest tightened—not from pain, but from him.

“Your turn,” I said, my voice low, taking the towel when he was done. He sat still, his breath hitching as I cleaned a cut on his jaw, blood smearing red on the cloth. His skin was warm, his eyes soft, and my hands shook, brushing too close. We’d been here before—close, quiet—but not like this, not with everything broken and raw.

The room went silent, just our breathing, the towel dropped between us. My hands stayed in my lap, my head spinning. He’d saved me, cut me free, risked it all. Harper’s voice—“Liam’s mine now”—still echoed, but it was wrong. He was here, battered for me. I had to know—had to hear it.

“Why’d you come back?” I asked, my voice rough, my eyes on his.

He looked down, his hands clenching, then up, his face open, scared. “Because I love you, idiot,” he said, his voice breaking, soft but sure.

My heart stopped, my breath gone. Love—he’d said it, plain and raw, like it had been stuck in him too long. I stared, my chest tight, my hands shaking. I’d felt it—before the lies, before the feds—those nights coding, his laugh, that kiss I couldn’t forget.

“Liam,” I said, my voice cracking, leaning closer.

He moved too, his hands on my face, pulling me in. Our lips crashed, hard and desperate, tasting blood and salt. My hands grabbed his shirt, my heart racing, everything spilling out—anger, hurt, need. It was intense, messy, his breath hot against mine, his fingers tight in my hair. I kissed him back, deep, like I could erase the past, like he could fix me.

But I pulled away, my hands on his chest, my breath fast. “Not yet,” I said, my voice shaky, my eyes wet. “Not until this ends—Harper, Graham, all of it.”

He froze, his hands dropping, his eyes wide. “Nate,” he said, his voice low, hurt, but he nodded slowly. “Okay, when it’s over.”

I nodded too, my chest aching, my hands clenching the bed. I wanted him—bad—but not here, not with them still out there. The flash drive sat in his pocket, our only shot, and we had to finish this first.

“We’ve got to get it to Zoe,” I said, my voice steadying, my head clearing. “She’s dark, but she’ll surface.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet, his hands in his lap now. “We’ll find her, end it.”

I leaned back, my body heavy, my side throbbing. He sat close, his shoulder brushing mine, the silence soft now, not heavy. My eyes drifted shut, my breath slowing, his warmth keeping me steady. He’d said it—love—and it changed everything, even if I couldn’t take it yet. We’d fight, together, like he’d promised.

A creak snapped my eyes open, my heart jumping. I turned slowly, my breath catching—the window, dark, blinds shut. Then, a shadow moved outside, quick, gone in a blink. My hands clenched, my chest tight.

“Liam,” I whispered, my voice sharp, nodding at it.

He looked, his face paling, his hand grabbing mine. “Someone’s found us,” he said, his voice low, tense.