Elara handed the tablet back to Kai, fingers still trembling slightly.He read the messages—Jake's clipped "Copy. Sharp as ever," Logan's photo with thumbs up, Mia's worried "Mom? What's going on?"—then looked at her."They're okay," he said. "For now."She nodded, swallowing hard.But the relief hit like a wave she hadn't expected.
Her eyes stung. She turned away quickly—back to him—trying to blink the tears down before he saw. She was supposed to be strong. The one who kept it together. The one who ran into danger without flinching.But hearing their voices—short, worried, alive—cracked something inside her.Jake's quiet "I've got this, Mom" from years ago echoed in her mind — the boy who'd learned to hide his fear behind discipline. Mia's hand on Connor's head, whispering "Nana's coming home soon" after her ex left. Logan's laugh when he told her about Cherri in Korea — "She's the one, Mom." They were all she had left.Kai stepped forward without hesitation. His hand found her shoulder—gentle, firm—then slid around her waist, turning her back toward him."Come here," he murmured.Elara resisted for half a second—then broke.She folded into him, face pressing against his chest, arms wrapping around his waist as the tears came—quiet, hot, unstoppable. Relief. Fear. Love. All of it pouring out in the safety of his embrace.Kai held her tightly—one hand cradling the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, the other low on her back—anchoring her. He didn't speak. Didn't need to. His heartbeat was steady against her ear, his cedar-and-musk scent wrapping around her like a shield.She cried for her kids, for the grandson she hadn't held in too long, for the life she'd built and now had to protect.Kai let her.When the tears slowed, she didn't pull away immediately. She stayed there, breathing him in, feeling the solid warmth of him.After a long moment, she lifted her head, eyes red but clearer."Thank you," she whispered.Kai brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb—slow, careful."You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Not for this."He didn't let go.The clearing felt too small now, the weight of the day too heavy.Elara looked toward the trail that led down to the water—black and silver under the moon, waves whispering against the rocks."I need the ocean," she said quietly. "Just for a minute."Kai studied her—then nodded once. "I'll come with you."They walked the path in silence—down the steep slope, through mangroves, until the trail opened onto a small, hidden cove. Moonlight painted the water in liquid silver. No lights. No boats. Just the sea and the night.Elara kicked off her boots, peeled away her jacket, then her shirt—down to simple underlayers. The air was cool against her skin, raising goosebumps. She glanced at Kai.He was already shedding his jacket, shirt following—revealing lean muscle marked by old scars. Thin white lines across his ribs, a jagged one near his collarbone — stories he hadn't told her yet. He met her eyes—steady, unguarded.No words.They waded in together.The water was warm from the day, silky against her legs, then her waist. Elara sank deeper, letting it rise to her shoulders. She tilted her head back, hair floating like pale strands on the surface.Kai moved closer—slow, careful. The water lapped between them.She felt the pull—deep, undeniable—but also the fear. This was dangerous in more ways than one. She started to shift, to untangle her legs from around his waist, to create distance, to think.Kai felt it—the slight movement, the hesitation.The pause stretched—long, heavy, electric. The ocean whispered. Their breathing synced. Her heart hammered against his chest.His hand slid up her back, fingers threading into her wet hair. He tilted her face up gently, eyes locking on hers—dark, burning.Then he closed the distance.The kiss was slow at first—soft, tasting of salt and relief. A question. His lips brushed hers once, twice, gentle, testing. Elara's breath hitched. She parted her lips, inviting him deeper. He answered—slowly, deliberately. The kiss deepened—hungry, urgent, like they'd both been holding back too long. His tongue traced hers, tasting of coffee and sea, a low groan rumbling in his throat. His arms tightened, lifting her higher against him, water swirling around them. Her hands slid into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling him closer. Every touch ignited—skin on skin, heat building, the world narrowing to this: moonlit water, lips on lips, the steady thump of two hearts.When they finally broke apart, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, the world felt smaller—narrowed to this: moonlit water, skin on skin, the steady thump of two hearts."You're not alone in this," he murmured against her lips.She smiled—small, breathless. "I know."They stayed like that—floating, entwined—until the water began to cool.Then they waded out, dripping, silent.They dressed in the moonlight, shoulders brushing.The night was still young.But they had each other.And the fight was far from over.