TWENTY

Leora

As soon as we pulled up to the new safe house near Woodstock, I slid out of the car, eager to stretch my legs. The warehouse, a behemoth structure, loomed larger and more fortified than our last hideout. Its walls, thick, promised better security, and the discreet underground parking meant our presence would be virtually undetectable from the outside.

This time, Zarek and I shared a room, which, despite its small closet, didn't bother me—I hadn't brought much with me. Amelia had claimed the only other room with an ensuite bathroom, leaving Logan, Kabir, and Dylan to manage with a communal bathroom.

"I really don't give a shit," Kabir declared nonchalantly. "I don't need much space unlike Logan who uses five different hair products."

We were all sitting circling the table in the main area.

"I do not !" Logan retorted.

"Yeah, well, I'm keeping my stuff in my room," Dylan chimed in casually, steering clear of the bathroom debate.

Logan, not one to let the jibe at him slide, raised a hand in protest. "For the record, I use one shampoo, one conditioner, and one hair mask—that's it!"

"That's two more than I use," Kabir quipped, unfazed. "You're not taking the small ass shelf space!"

"Imbecile," Dylan muttered under his breath.

Zarek, Amelia, and I watched the banter unfold with amused smiles, barely suppressing our laughter.

Logan continued to defend his hair care routine with passion. "That's because I care about my hair. Do you know what the constant use of balaclavas can do to your hair?"

"Should we start a support group? ‘Balaclavas Anonymous' for affected hair?" Kabir's sarcasm met with a glare from Logan.

Dylan jumped in with a grin. "Maybe Logan should launch his own line of ‘Balaclava Safe' hair products. Could be a hit?"

Logan shot Dylan a look that was part annoyance, part amusement. "Hilarious. Remind me to leave you out of my billion-dollar haircare empire."

Kabir laughed, patting Logan on the back. "Don't worry, brother, we'll just be your before photos."

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Keep it up, and I'll start hiding your gear in shampoo bottles."

Dylan smirked, folding his arms across his chest. "Good luck squeezing my rifle into a conditioner bottle. "

"That's a challenge," Logan retorted with a playful nod. "But I bet I could fit Kabir's entire tech setup in my hair mask jar."

Kabir feigned shock, touching his chest in mock horror. "Not the sacred hair mask jar!"

The laughter grew louder, echoing around the sparsely furnished room, and even Zarek shook his head with a chuckle.

The banter slowly wound down as Zarek and I began to unpack, but the lightness it brought remained.

Zarek and I headed to our bedroom.

Our bedroom.

I hadn't originally planned to share a space with Zarek, but now that it was a reality, the idea of being apart from him seemed unimaginable.

As we settled into our new temporary room, Zarek produced a phone from his pocket, extending it toward me with a serious look. "This is yours now. It's secure, but try to keep contact with family and friends to a minimum."

Grasping the phone eagerly, a surge of relief washed over me—it had been days since I'd felt the comforting weight of a phone in my hand. "I need to check my damn email," I half-joked, half-serious. "I'm probably fired by now."

Zarek's response was a soft, amused smile as he watched me power it on and dive into my inbox. My fingers flew over the screen, logging into my mail app, where a flood of unread messages awaited. But it was one particular email that caught my eye—an email from the day after my birthday.

As I scanned the contents, my eyes widened in disbelief. "Zarek, what did you do?" I looked up at him, baffled.

He just shrugged, an enigmatic smirk playing on his lips. "Nothing too obvious. Just keeping your options open."

The email revealed that I had been officially recruited by the Toronto Police Department for a ‘special assignment'. Astonishingly, I was still on Detention Center's payroll, a clever maneuver on his part to give me cover and financial security while I navigated this chaos.

This meant I wasn't just away; I was still officially employed, tethered to my old life by a thread he had spun silently behind the scenes. Only until I was ready to go back. And I realized that I might not ever be ready to go back.

???

Dinner wrapped up, but our minds were far from at ease, buzzing back into mission mode. The uncertainty about Jerome Tyson and his notorious father, Garret, kept us plotting non-stop, keen on intercepting their Crazon shipments. The stakes were high; in the wrong hands, Crazon could wreak havoc, a risk we couldn't afford.

As Logan outlined my training schedule post-dinner, debates heated within the squad. "There's no point," Kabir was saying, frustration clear as day, "If we can't fully understand what Crazon is capable of, we're essentially fighting blind, Zarek. We can't know everything with the testing we've been doing."

"I'm not saying we abandon the idea of exploring its capabilities," Zarek said, flipping a Crazon device onto the table, watching it spin aimlessly. "Let's just hold off until we get the green light from above. The intrusive tests are not authorized, yet."

Amelia shook her head in disagreement, and Dylan, ever the stoic, said nothing. Logan kept out of it, leaving Kabir and Zarek locked in a typical showdown. "And I'm arguing for immediate action. They'll give us the nod, I'm sure of it," Kabir countered and Zarek shook his head.

"I think," I interjected hesitantly. "We can't afford to wait. What if our delay puts the entire squad at risk? We hardly know anything about it. What if it puts us a step behind?"

Kabir gestured supportively towards me then crossed his arms, a smug look plastered across his face. Zarek's eyes narrowed, his irritation palpable. "So you think they're already outmaneuvering us?"

"The longer we wait, the more advantage we give them. If we don't know what can hurt us, it inevitably will," I pressed on, my resolve hardening.

"And what? Following protocol is now pointless?" Zarek's voice was sharp, slicing through the tension.

"I'm saying endless debating might be costing us while they could be actively using this device against us," I shot back, locking eyes with him, my voice rising.

Zarek exhaled sharply, frustration etched across his face. "Fine," he conceded begrudgingly, his glance flicking towards Kabir, "Go ahead, do it."

He stormed off towards our bedroom, his stride stiff with annoyance. Kabir shot me a victorious thumbs up. I rolled my eyes and followed my very annoyed Zarek to our room.

As I entered our room, I found Zarek in a storm of frustration, swiftly peeling off his t-shirt and stepping out of his sweatpants. He snatched a towel and headed straight for the bathroom. My mind was set; I was going to join him, hopefully easing some of that tension that the earlier debate had wound into his muscles.

But the moment I stepped into the bathroom after stripping my clothes off, his eyes met mine—not with softness but with a hardened, fiery glare. "You think you can defy me in front of everyone?" he growled, his voice rough with barely contained anger.

A smirk tugged at my lips, amused by his almost petulant tone. "I can voice my opinions, can't I?" I challenged, meeting his intensity head-on.

He grunted and shed his boxers. I expected anger, but the way his hard cock sprang free and his eyes devoured my naked form suggested a different kind of frustration.

"Enter the shower," he commanded, a steely note in his voice. I complied, stepping under the warm spray. Instantly, his hands gripped my waist, spinning me to face away from him. The water cascaded down on us.

Smack .

A sharp whimper escaped me as his hand connected firmly with my ass. "Undermining me in front of my squad is going to cost you."

The unexpected sting sent a jolt through me.

"Now, Mi Corazón," he murmured, his hand soothing the spot he had just struck.

Smack .

"We will have to do something about your defiance," he declared, a thrilling edge to his voice, as I reveled in the delicious mix of pain and pleasure .

"And what will that be?" I asked, my tone thick with arousal, turning slightly to look over my shoulder.

His lips hovered near my ear, his breath hot against my skin. Even with the shower's roar, his whisper cut through. "I'm going to make you scream louder than you fucking argued."

Abruptly, his fingers plunged into my slick heat, thrusting deep and drawing a fervent moan from my lips.

"So fucking wet for me, huh?" He growled into the steamy air of the shower.

"You got all worked up just by arguing with me?" He asked, his question rhetorical.

His fingers moved rhythmically inside me, coaxing louder moans with each stroke.

"Baby, please ." I pleaded him to go faster, do more, do anything.

His other hand wrapped around my waist, his thumb pressing hard on my clit, eliciting a raw, guttural cry from the depths of my throat.

He expertly manipulated my clit, fingers still curling inside me, relentlessly seeking that perfect spot. My head fell forward, resting against the cool tile wall as a wave of intense pleasure crashed over me, spurred on by another sharp pinch to my sensitive nub.

My legs trembled and gave out, but Zarek was quick to catch me, his arms wrapping around me to steady my shaking body. He turned me in his embrace and carried me from the shower's embrace, the cool air of the bedroom hitting my damp skin.

He laid me down gently on the bed, my wet body imprinting the sheets, as he hovered over me. He flipped me onto my stomach, positioning my legs wide apart as though I were a feast laid out solely for him.

Deliberately, achingly slow, he pressed his tongue against my folds, savoring the taste of my arousal. I quivered, still tingling from the aftershocks of my earlier climax.

Glancing back, I caught his gaze—tender yet intensely passionate. He swept my damp hair aside, planting tender kisses down the length of my spine.

Then, capturing both my wrists, he pinned them behind my back and surged inside me with a single, masterful stroke. A sharp cry escaped me at the exquisite fullness, my breaths coming in short, ragged pulls.

"Bite the pillow. I'm not holding back," he growled deeply.

His thrusts were powerful and deep, sending me teetering on the edge. I craved more—more of him, every part of him.

"Harder, Zarek," I gasped between moans, and his slow, deliberate thrusts transformed into rapid, forceful drives. Zarek lost himself in the fervor, his movements wild with desperation.

"Please, please, please, please, please," I begged for more.

I bit down on the pillow as instructed. My moans—loud enough for the whole squad to hear—muffled slightly.

"Fuck, I love it when you beg." Zarek's voice was breathy. With one final thrust, I was catapulted over the edge, spiraling into a continuous climax. Zarek didn't stop, his rhythm growing even more frenzied. My body shook, every nerve alight with exquisite pleasure, my bones seemingly dissolving in the heat. I was writhing, shivering, twisting in pleasure.

"Zarek," I moaned out his name as waves of endless release swept through me.

With a final deep thrust, he stilled, his groan vibrating through the air as he reached his own climax. He collapsed onto me, his breath cooling the skin of my back.

"Fuck," he exhaled softly, pulling out and then drawing me back against his chest, enveloping me.

"I guess I should argue more," I breathed, a spontaneous giggle bubbling up between us. Zarek's laughter mingled with mine as he began tracing a path of kisses along my neck and up to my jaw. He propped himself on one elbow, gently turning my face towards his. With a look full of deep affection and longing, he paused for a moment before his lips urgently met mine.