Chapter 40

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l ying there with Red in that cramped, dusty room, something felt strangely… peaceful. Her body was pressed close to mine on the worn-out mattress, her warmth making up for the chill that crept in through the cracks in the walls. It was a shitty room—nothing more than a box with a mattress on the floor and barely any space to move—but somehow, it didn’t matter.

It was a goddamn miracle, really. Me, Rogue the fuck-up, actually feeling... content? Happy, even? Christ, I’d never felt anything like this before. Being close to someone, I mean. Really close. Not just some sloppy, fucked-up hookup, but this... intimacy.

It was new, strange territory, and part of me wanted to run, to reach for the bottle that was always my escape hatch. But I didn’t. For once in my miserable life, I wanted to stay right where I was, feel every fucking second of it.

I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She fit perfectly against me, like she was supposed to be there. I buried my face in her hair, breathing her in. For once, the constant itch for a drink was quiet. I didn’t need to drown my thoughts or numb my feelings. This – just being here with her—was enough.

The silence between us was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that settled after everything had been said and done. But there was one thing gnawing at the back of my mind.

“Hey,” I said softly, “can I ask you something?”

Red tilted her head up, those bright eyes of hers searching my face. “Shoot.”

I hesitated, knowing I was treading on dangerous ground. “Do you miss him?” I asked, cautious.

The question felt like it had weight, something heavy I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with, but I had to know.

She shifted slightly, turning her head to look at me. “Miss who?”

“Your ex.” The word tasted bitter on my tongue.

She tensed in my arms, and for a moment, I thought I’d fucked up royally. But then she let out a bitter laugh.

“Why the hell would I miss him?” she asked, a sharp edge to her voice. “He was a violent bastard.”

I frowned, not quite buying it. I did know that. But I also knew what I’d seen. “I saw how you reacted when he died. You seemed... I dunno, affected.”

She pulled away, propping herself up on an elbow to look at me. Her eyes were hard, but not angry.

“I wasn’t mourning him, I was mourning the fact that I couldn’t save a life. That’s what I do, Rogue. That’s what I’m trained for. It wasn’t about him—it was about the fact that a life was lost, even if it was a shitty one.”

I pulled her back against me, letting her warmth soak into me again. Yeah, that made sense, I guess. But something else had been eating at me, nagging ever since we dealt with that Dr. Cucklord bullshit.

“Fair enough,” I muttered. "But... can I ask you something else?"

She sighed, her breath warm against my chest. “You’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

“Humor me,” I said, running my hand along her spine. “What did he say to you? You know, before he... before he died?”

She looked confused, like she didn’t know where I was going with this. But then it clicked, and her face shifted. “He told me to get the hell out of the base as fast as I could.”

My heart rate picked up. “Did he say why?”

She let out a huff of laughter, but there was no humor in it. “No, Rogue, I didn’t ask him to elaborate. I was a bit preoccupied trying to save his life at the time.”

I grunted, but my mind was racing, spinning through fragments of missions, moments that hadn’t seemed to mean shit at the time but now felt like jagged puzzle pieces trying to fit together. That mission... it had been led by Pyro. And now that I thought about it, how many times had that bastard come back from ops almost unscathed while the rest of us were battered to shit? It wasn’t just luck; no one had that kind of golden streak in this line of work. Not unless they knew something the rest of us didn’t.

The more I thought about it, the worse it looked. Pyro always managed to be just out of the worst crossfire, his timing too perfect, too calculated. And then there was that insurgent. The one we had, ready to spill his guts—Pyro had put a bullet in his head before I could squeeze a word out of him. At the time, I shrugged it off as Pyro being a trigger-happy dick, too impatient to let me do my job. But now?

Holy shit.

My chest tightened as the pieces started clicking into place, one ugly fragment at a time. We’d all been side-eyeing Viper—the guy who was conveniently absent whenever the shit hit the fan. But what if we had it all wrong? What if the real problem wasn’t the guy who wasn’t there, but the one who always was? The one who walked away without a scratch while the rest of us bled for it?

I didn’t like where my mind was dragging me, but I couldn’t fucking ignore the pattern.

I sat up, pulling Red with me. “When Viper was in med bay, did Pyro come to visit him?” I asked, low and urgent.

Her brows knitted, her lips pressing together as she thought. “Yeah, right after Viper’s condition got worse. Why?”

My gut twisted. The pieces weren’t just falling into place anymore; they were fucking slamming together like a hammer on glass.

“Any chance Pyro swapped out the meds we gave Viper? Messed with his shit?”

She bit her lip, thinking. “It’s possible... but he’d have to know exactly which substances to swap. That’s not something just anyone could do.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Maybe he wasn’t flying solo,” I said, my voice dropping. “Maybe Dr. Cocksucker was in on it, following Cap’s orders. It’d explain a hell of a lot.”

Her face paled, and she looked at me with genuine concern. “Why would they do that? What could they possibly have to gain?”

Frustration burned in my chest, raw and heavy, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from letting it explode.

“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s big. Big enough to kill for. Hell, they’ve already got blood on their hands. I need to figure this shit out before we’re all six feet under.”

The weight of it pressed down hard—betrayal, lies, all the ways we’d been played for a fool.

If I was right, Pyro wasn’t just a reckless prick. He was a goddamn traitor. And if Red’s ex had a hand in it, this shitshow wasn’t just a few botched ops. This was something bigger, something uglier.

Red was quiet for a long time, her fingers absently tracing patterns on my chest. When she finally spoke, her voice was heavy.

“If you’re right about this, Rogue... we’re in deep shit.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “Sweetheart, we’ve been in deep shit since the day we signed up for this.”

I yanked her closer again, needing to feel her against me, to ground myself in something real. My thoughts were spiraling, but the one thing I knew for sure was that I couldn’t trust anyone right now. Not even my own team.

“What’s the plan?” she asked eventually, voice small, like she already knew the answer was going to be shit.

I reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, marveling at how something so simple could feel so intimate.

“Plan? Fuck if I know. We need more intel. Proof. And we gotta figure out who’s clean. We’re flying blind here.”

She reached out, taking my hand in hers. “We can trust each other.”

I looked at her, really looked at her. In that moment, it hit me just how much she meant to me. How much I needed her. Not just for this fucked-up situation we were stuck in, but for everything. She was the only thing keeping my head above water.

“Yeah,” I said, squeezing her hand. “We can.”

Red’s hand came up to cup my cheek, her touch impossibly gentle. “We’ll figure it out together, Rogue. You’re not alone in this.”

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to her palm, feeling something inside me settle for the first time in days. “I know. And that’s the only reason I haven’t completely lost my fucking mind.”

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the stubble on my jaw. Then, out of nowhere, she hit me with a question I never saw coming.

“Rogue,” she said, her green eyes searching my face, “will you ever tell me your real name?”

My body went rigid, like I’d been sucker-punched. My real name . I hadn’t thought about that in years—hadn’t allowed myself to think about it.

That name belonged to a weak, scared kid. A kid who’d curl up in the corner while his old man’s fists came down. A kid who’d cry himself to sleep, wondering why the hell he wasn’t good enough, why his dad couldn’t fucking love him.

I didn’t want to be that boy anymore. I wasn’t that boy anymore.

Fuck. Just the thought of it brought back a flood of memories I’d spent years trying to drown in booze and gunfire.

Her question shouldn’t have caught me off guard. Hell, she’d probably been thinking it for a while now. But it hit me harder than I expected.

“Rogue?” Red’s voice was soft, concerned. “Are you okay?”

I realized I’d been silent for too long, my muscles tensed as a drawn bowstring. I forced myself to take a breath, to relax my grip on her and I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

“Yeah, I... it’s just...” I trailed off, not knowing how to explain the storm of emotions her simple question had unleashed.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

I shook my head, forcing myself to meet her eyes. “No, it’s not that. It’s just... my name. I don’t think about it. I left that part of me behind a long time ago.”

She rolled onto her back to face me. “Why not?”

I exhaled hard, trying to find the words that didn’t make me sound like a total fucking wreck.

“Because... it reminds me of who I used to be. This weak, pathetic kid who couldn’t...”

The rest stuck in my throat. Red waited patiently, just laid there with her hand on my chest like she was holding me together, waiting for me to get my shit straight.

“My old man,” I finally managed. “He was a drunk. A mean fucking drunk. Beat the shit out of me whenever he felt like it. And that was pretty fucking often.”

She didn’t say shit right away, just watched me with those piercing eyes, like she could see every ugly part of me I didn’t want anyone to see. She didn’t push, didn’t pry further like I expected her to, and for that, I was grateful. Red understood when to back off, when to let things be. That was rare in people.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

I shrugged, playing it off like it didn’t still fuck me up sometimes. “Ancient history. But that name... it belongs to that kid. The weak little shit who couldn’t do anything but take it. I don’t want to be him anymore.”

She nodded, searching my face, not pressing too hard but not letting it slide either. “I understand. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I was about to steer the conversation somewhere else, anywhere else, when she hit me with another question, like she wasn’t done digging into me yet.

“Can I ask you something else then?”

I braced myself, already wondering what landmine she was about to step on. “I’m all ears, little one.”

Her hand stayed on my chest, soft and steady. Her eyes softened too, making it harder for me to bullshit her.

“Why don’t you ever call me by my name?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You always call me ‘Red’. You don’t call anyone by their real names. Pyro, Viper, Raven, Dr. Dumbass—whatever insult you dream up for him. You give everyone nicknames.”

I let out a long breath, feeling the walls closing in. “Fuck, little one, you don’t miss a thing, do you?”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for a real answer.

Shit. I’d never realized she’d picked up on that. I swallowed hard, trying to find an answer that didn’t make me sound like a complete asshole.

“It’s a way to keep my distance, I guess,” I admitted. “Names... they mean something. Calling someone by their name, that’s too personal. And getting personal in this line of work? That’s just asking for pain. You never know when someone’s gonna get their head blown off.”

“So, you don’t get close to anyone?” she asked, her voice tinged with something like disappointment that made me want to punch myself in the face.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I try not to.”

Her hand slid up to my face, and she cupped my cheek, making me look at her.

“Then what’s this?” she asked, her tone a little firmer. “What are we?”

I clenched my jaw, unsure how to respond. What were we? Something more than just teammates, that was for sure. We’d been through hell together, shared moments most people wouldn’t understand. But putting a label on it, giving it a name, made it feel too real. Too dangerous.

“I don’t know.”

That hurt, that flicker of disappointment, it nearly gutted me. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. It was written all over her face, and I hated myself for it.

She wanted more, she was waiting for me to give her something. Anything to prove I wasn’t just stringing her along.

But I couldn’t.

Not because I didn’t want to. Fuck, I wanted it more than anything. There was something about her, something that crawled under my skin and refused to leave. But this... us... whatever the hell it was, it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t last. And I wasn’t the kind of man who could give her what she deserved.

She deserved someone better. Someone who wasn’t broken in a million goddamn pieces, someone who didn’t have to numb himself with violence just to get through the day. She needed someone who could give her stability, safety. Not this... not the fucked-up mess that was me.

So yeah, when I saw the way her eyes dropped, the way her shoulders slumped just a little, like she was trying to keep herself together, it made me feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I did. And that? That shit killed me.

I stayed fucking quiet, watching her piece herself back together, pretending like the hurt didn’t burn in my gut. She wouldn’t push me, wouldn’t demand answers I couldn’t give. She’d always been like that. Stubborn, yes, but not cruel. And somehow, that made it worse.

I looked at her, standing there with that damn fire in her eyes, like she was holding on by a thread but still but breaking. She was too good for this. Too good for me.

And I hated myself for not being able to let her go.

Her fingers ghosted along my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She didn’t say anything, just took in what I told her. No pity, no further questions—just understanding.

Fuck, I didn’t deserve her. Not even close.

“Well, thank you for telling me your story,” she said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my lips. “I know that wasn’t easy.”

I gave her a nod, thankful she left it at that. Last thing I needed was to dig up more of the crap I buried deep.

She shifted closer, her breath warm against my skin, and I knew I was in too deep. This wasn’t just some casual fuck. This was something that could get both of us killed. But I wasn’t thinking about the consequences.

I was thinking about her.

Part of me wanted to push her away, slam up those walls that usually kept me safe. But another part, a part I barely recognized, wanted to let her in.

“You know,” she murmured, sitting up slightly so she could look at me better. “I actually think that ‘Rogue’ suits you.”

I let out a short, rough laugh, some of the tension easing off my shoulders. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. I might decide to change it again tomorrow.”

She grinned, settling back against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. “As long as you don’t expect me to call you ‘Captain Badass’ or something equally ridiculous, I think we’ll be okay.”

I snorted, wrapping my arms around her. “Please. I’ve got way better taste than that. How about ‘His Royal Highness, Lord of All Badassery’?”

Her laugh rumbled against my chest, and for a minute, just a fucking minute, I forgot about all the shit waiting for us outside this room. Right now, this was enough. This connection, this moment of peace in the eye of the storm.

I was gonna enjoy the hell out of this. The goodbye. The end. Whatever the fuck it was.

Because when it came to Red and me, it was always a goodbye.

And tonight? Tonight, I was gonna make sure it was one hell of a good one.

Even if I knew it couldn’t last.