Chapter 35.
1312 Words
The interior of the rented SUV was a dark, leather-scented sanctuary, far removed from the sterile light of the restaurant’s alleyway. Victor had set Briar in the backseat with a strength that was both effortless and staggering, his large frame following her in until the space felt cramped and electric. The "General" might have set the thirty-five-day clock in motion, but the man was currently intent on making every second of the first hour count.
The charcoal suit jacket was discarded on the floorboards, and Victor’s white dress shirt was straining at the seams as he loomed over her. His hands, calloused and steady, had found the hem of her emerald silk dress, sliding upward with a slow, deliberate heat that made Briar’s breath catch in her throat. The contrast between his rugged, soldier’s hands and the delicate shimmer of her evening wear was a visual testament to the collision of their two worlds.
"Victor," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Her skin burned where his lips grazed her, a trail of fire that eclipsed the cool night air outside the tinted glass.
"I’m here," he rumbled, the sound vibrating against her skin like a low-frequency hum. "I’m not gone yet, Briar. Don't think about the thirty-five days. Think about right now."
He shifted, his weight pinning her into the plush leather, a massive, unyielding anchor in the storm of her own desire. His hands moved higher, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs with a possessive, rhythmic pressure that felt like he was memorizing every inch of her before the world snatched him back.
He was moments away from guiding her hips to his length, his intent clear in the dark, molten intensity of his gaze- a look of absolute, singular hunger. Briar arched toward him, her back curving off the seat, her world narrowing down to the scent of pine, the heat of his breath, and the overwhelming presence of the man who had claimed her territory so thoroughly.
Then, the silence was shattered.
Not by a tactical military chirp this time, but by the upbeat, generic ringtone of Briar’s phone. It was sitting in her purse on the floor of the SUV, muffled but insistent. The vibration rattled against the floorboards. It stopped. Two seconds later, it started again. Then again.
Victor stiffened, his forehead resting against hers as he let out a low, frustrated growl that sounded like a wounded predator.
"Ignore it," he rasped, his hands tightening on her thighs, his knuckles white in the dim light.
"I can't," Briar whispered, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs that rivaled the phone’s ring. "That’s the emergency bypass. Only my mother and Archer use that. If they're calling three times in a row..."
The phone began its fourth frantic cycle, the light from the screen bleeding through the fabric of her bag. Victor closed his eyes for a beat, his jaw setting as a flicker of the disciplined commander crossed his face. He was realizing, with visible irritation, that the moment was compromised. He pulled away with a sharp, controlled exhale, sitting back just enough to give her room to breathe, though his gaze remained anchored on her.
Briar reached down, her hands trembling as she fished the phone out of her bag. The screen was blinding in the dark cabin, illuminated with a dozen missed calls and a flashing "Incoming: Mom."
She tapped the answer button, her voice sounding far more breathless and ragged than she intended. "Mom? Is everything okay? What’s going on?"
"Briar, dear? Where are you?" Eliza’s voice crackled over the speaker. To Briar’s utter confusion, her mother didn't sound panicked. In fact, she sounded uncharacteristically chirpy- almost excited, her voice rising in that melodic way it did when she had a secret she couldn't wait to share. "You have a visitor here for you! Such a surprise, come home right now."
Briar’s eyes flew to Victor’s. He was sitting perfectly still, but his entire aura had shifted back into a state of high alert. He was close enough to hear every word, his jaw working in that slow, rhythmic grind. The lover had vanished behind the mask of the General.
"Who is it, Mom?" Briar asked, her stomach dropping into a cold pit. "Is it Travis? Did he come back?"
"Oh, don't be silly. Just get here," Eliza said, her tone light and mysteriously playful, and then the line went dead with a decisive click.
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with a new, jagged kind of tension. The heat of the previous moments hadn't evaporated; it had been transmuted into a cold, protective steel. Victor reached out, his hand sliding behind Briar’s neck, his thumb stroking her jaw as he studied her face with the clinical intensity of a man assessing a breach in the perimeter.
"She didn't say who," Victor noted, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that seemed to fill the entire vehicle.
"No," Briar whispered, smoothing the emerald silk of her dress with shaking hands, trying to settle the frantic pulse in her throat. "But she sounded... happy? Which is almost more confusing. My mother doesn't play games like this, Victor. Especially not at nine-thirty at night."
Victor didn't look convinced. In his world, a surprise visitor was a variable, and a variable was a threat until neutralized. He sat up fully, reaching for his discarded charcoal suit jacket and adjusting his clothes with the mechanical, fluid efficiency of a man preparing for a live-fire mission. The intimacy of the backseat was gone, replaced by the atmosphere of a command center.
"We finish this later," he rumbled. He leaned in, giving her a lingering, searing kiss that felt less like an affection and more like a brand- a reminder of exactly whose territory she was before she walked back into the unknown. "You go first. If someone is there, they need to see you arriving alone, just like you told Archer you would. It maintains the cover."
He paused, his eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying clarity. "I’ll pull up to the driveway ten minutes later. I'll be watching from the street until then."
Briar nodded, her heart still thumping a wild, uneven rhythm. "Ten minutes. I'll be fine, Victor."
"Go," he commanded softly, the word final and absolute.
The drive back to Lower Falls felt like a blur of dark, skeletal trees and shimmering white lines. Briar’s mind spiraled through a thousand possibilities, none of them fitting the chirpy tone of her mother’s voice. If it wasn't Travis, who could it be? An old friend? A relative? Someone from Victor’s past who had tracked him here? The timing was all wrong, and the secrecy felt like a trap.
When she finally turned onto her street and pulled into the driveway, the Smith house was ablaze with lights, looking like a beacon in the quiet neighborhood. She saw Archer’s truck parked at the curb, but there was a second vehicle tucked behind it- a sleek, silver sedan with high-end trim that she didn't recognize from anywhere in town.
She stepped out of her car, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement as she hurried to the front door, her breath hitching in the cool night air. She took one last deep breath, smoothing the silk of her emerald dress over her hips and checking her reflection in the glass of the storm door.
She turned the knob and stepped into the foyer.
"I'm here!" Briar called out, her voice echoing slightly in the hallway. "Mom? Who's here?"
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