Page 49 of Rebel Protector

Ghost lay there, staring up at the dark ceiling, Becca’s soft breath warming his chest.

What the hell had he done?

That was crazy, insane, completely off-the-scale good, and there was no rule book for this one. He was in enemy territory now, unsure of his way, relying on gut instinct alone to see him through.

Becca lay spent in his arms, her dark hair falling over his shoulder, her breathing even and rhythmic. He’d never seen anyone more angelic.

His chest tightened as he gazed down at her, feeling her breath on his chest. Fuck, how was he going to let her go?

Before tonight, this thing between them had been simple—manageable, at least. He could handle it. He’d been fully prepared to walk away when it was over, move on.

Now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.

It was like something had shifted, something irreversible. A line had been crossed and there was no going back. He didn’t even know what the hell it was. But it was something. Something that felt like it might’ve just wrecked him for good.

He’d never been with anyone like Becca before. The way she’d taken him in, the way she’d wrapped herself around him—tight, warm, perfect—had left him raw and vulnerable. When she screamed his name, it had shredded him.

She wasn’t just in his arms, she was in his damn head, in his soul. It was terrifying.

What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

She was his now. He knew it.

She might be leaving, but tonight, she’d given herself to him in a way that went beyond anything he’d ever felt. And, God help him, he’d given himself to her, too. There was no hiding behind the walls he’d spent years building up. No more undercover roles or bullshit lies. She’d seen him—really seen him.

And she still wanted him.

That’s what killed him the most.

Her fingers trailed down his chest, her eyes closed, her face angelic. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so close to another person. They’d made a connection, something real and solid, like a bond he didn’t know he needed. But as much as he wanted to hold onto it, keep her close, he’d have to let her go.

She was leaving.

After tomorrow, he’d never see her again.

Something inside him twisted, made his chest tight.

Fuck.

He was going to let the best thing to ever happen to him walk out of his life, and that was that. She’d start over somewhere, build a new life—one he wasn’t part of.

He didn’t know what was in store for him. His future was a damn question mark. Always had been. But one thing he knew for sure—whatever it was, it didn’t include her.

It couldn’t.

Becca deserved better than this mess of a life he lived.

He glanced down at her, and his heart clenched. She’d told him she wanted something more—something stable. She wanted to settle down, maybe have a family. Hell, she wanted to be happy, and Ghost knew he couldn’t give that to her. He didn’t even know what happiness looked like anymore.

She needed more than a guy like him. More than a soldier without a mission. More than a man who lived on the edge, surviving undercover jobs, playing a game where any wrong move could get him killed.

What kind of future was that for her?

She’d been right—there was no happily ever after for people like him. That was a damn fairytale, one that didn’t fit the brutal reality he lived in. He was a weapon, pure and simple, good for taking down scumbags, for infiltrating criminal organizations, but for love? For a family? That wasn’t in the cards.

So why did he hate the idea of letting her go so much?

He kissed her head again, this time letting his lips linger, trying to memorize the feel of her, the way her body molded perfectly into his. His chest tightened again, that same damn ache that told him he was in too deep.