Daggermouth

A growl left Greyson’s mouth, his cock hardening at her words as he pushed another finger inside of her. He worked his way down her body with his lips as her hands curled into his hair. His tongue and teeth trailed fire along her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast above her shirt. Greyson pushed the fabric up with his free hand, exposing her stomach, the taut plane of muscles there contrasting with the softness of her skin.

His tongue swirled across her nipples over the lace fabric, nipping at them. Her breath hitched as she arched further into him, a breathy groan slipping from her lips. He traced a path farther down her body, his tongue slipping along her waistband as he reluctantly pulled his fingers from inside of her to remove her pants.

Greyson’s fingers hooked around the fabric, her hips rising as two things fell from her pocket.

They both froze.

Greyson’s eyes locked on the photograph. Him and Brooker, unmasked, smiling. The photograph from his bedroom. The one he’d hidden. The one no one else should have.

He pulled back, his hands leaving her body as he bent to retrieve the items.

“Where did you get this?” His voice had gone cold, all heat evaporating in an instant.

She slid off the island, adjusting her clothes. “Does it matter?”

“Where did you get this?” He repeated, anger replacing every other emotion.

She met his gaze steadily. “Who is he?”

Greyson stepped back, the distance between them growing with each heartbeat. The reminder of what she was, of who she was, hit him with excruciating force as he stared at the picture then looked up at her.

Without another word, he turned and walked toward his bedroom, the photograph clutched in his hand. He could feel her eyes on his back, as he left the bodies and the wreckage behind, but she didn’t follow, didn’t call after him.

The door slammed behind him as he drove his fist into the wall hard enough to puncture the plaster. Pain lanced up his arm, grounding him, clearing his head from the desire, the alcohol.

He leaned his forehead against the wood, breathing hard, the taste of her still on his lips, the memory of her body against his burned into his skin. What had he been thinking? What had he almost done?

What the fuck was wrong with him?

The patrol vehicle rattled beneath Jameson. His body was present—clothed in enemy fabric, surrounded by his team, crossing back into the Boundary—but his mind remained in that blue-lit room. The stolen Veyra helmet felt heavier than before, the armor more restrictive.

No one spoke. The mission’s failure hung in the compartment like poison gas, seeping into his lungs, clouding his mind. Eight of them had entered the Heart. Eight were returning. The numbers should have been a success—no casualties, no injuries beyond minor scrapes. But the empty space where Shadera should have been rendered the statistics meaningless.

Jameson stared through the reflective faceplate of his helmet at his team. Scout cleaned blood from beneath her fingernails with mechanical precision. Breach stared at his hands, palms up, as if reading a future that no longer included Shadera. Comms monitored Veyra frequencies, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against his thigh. Sniper, Trace, and Medic sat with the perfect stillness of assassins, conserving energy, processing failure. And Jaeger . . . Jaeger watched him from behind his own faceplate, waiting.

Through the partition, Jameson could see the rigid line of Captain Mikel’s shoulders as he navigated the empty maintenance tu

“Did you know?” The words broke through the silence like a gunshot, his voice amplified inside the helmet.

No one moved, but he felt the collective tension rise. Jaeger’s helmet tilted toward him.

“Did you know,” Jameson repeated, each word carved from ice, “that she was vowed to Serel?”

Jaeger didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his head turned toward the partition, toward Mikel, who remained focused on the road ahead. A silent calculation passed between them, visible only in the subtle shift of posture.

“Yes.” The single word fell between them, heavy and final.

The rage that surged through Jameson’s veins was so potent, he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for his weapon. The metal wall beside him suddenly seemed the perfect target for his fury, but he kept himself still, contained, dangerous.

“You knew.” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “You knew, and you sent me in there anyway. You let me walk into the Heart believing I could bring her home.”

“I thought—”

“You thought what?” Jameson snapped, cutting him off. “That she’d see me and magically decide to come with us? That she’d break the arrangement they forced on her because I showed up?”

He reached up, yanking off his helmet in a single violent motion. The recycled air hit his face, cooling the sweat that had gathered along his hairline. He wanted Jaeger to see his face, to see every ounce of the betrayal carved into it.

“Put that back on,” Mikel hissed from the front seat, his eyes finding Jameson’s in the rearview mirror. “We’re still in Heart territory.”

“Fuck your territory,” Jameson snarled, but he kept his voice low enough not to carry outside the vehicle.

Jaeger removed his own helmet, his gray eyes meeting Jameson’s without flinching. The old man’s face was impassive, his mouth set in a grim line.

“I believed that seeing you might remind her of where she belongs,” Jaeger said, his voice steady. “I believed that given the choice between the Boundary and the Heart, between you and the Executioner, she would choose correctly.”

“There was no choice.” Jameson’s words were raw, stripped of pretense. “Do you understand that? She can’t leave because Maximus has threatened to bomb the Boundary if she doesn’t go through with it.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the vehicle’s hum seemed to fade away as the words sank in. Jameson watched the information ripple through the team—Scout’s fingers stilling on her blade, Breach’s head snapping up, Comms’s hands freezing over his equipment.

Jaeger’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted behind his eyes. “Explain.”

“The drones that were following me.” Jameson leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. “He’s learned everything with them. The President knows where our clinics are, the camps, headquarters. He knows where all of it is. If Shadera doesn’t take the Vow, he starts dropping bombs. Begi

His mind filled again with the image of her in that room, her face when she’d told him to leave, the way she’d backed away from his kiss. Something had changed in her. Something beyond the threat hanging over the Boundary.

“There’s more.” He looked directly at Jaeger now. “Those medical supplies I’ve been getting? The ones with the Serel serial numbers? They’re from him.”

“Bullshit,” Breach muttered.

“He told me himself,” Jameson continued. “Knew the exact numbers. Used it as leverage. Said if I wanted the medicine to keep flowing into the rings, I’d leave without her.”

Jaeger’s face remained frustratingly neutral. “And you believed him?”

“Yes. Even if he isn’t smuggling it himself, he knows about it and is letting it happen,” Jameson replied. "When she confirmed what the President is pla

He thought of that moment again, of Shadera standing between him and Greyson, her green eyes haunted as she made her choice. Her choice to sacrifice her freedom for the Boundary. For him.

“She’s not in love with him,” Jameson said, the words coming out before he could stop them. The fear that had been gnawing at his heart since he’d seen them together demanded voice. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Jaeger raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t.”

“She doesn’t even like him,” Jameson pushed on. “She’s doing this to protect us. To protect the rings.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Jaeger asked, his voice cutting through Jameson’s defense.

The question sliced into Jameson like a blade between ribs. Because the truth was, he had seen something in that room—something in the way Shadera spoke to Greyson, the way she’d refused Jameson’s kiss—that suggested a complication he wasn’t ready to face.

Jameson deflected. “The only thing that matters is that we’re fucked. All of us. The rebellion, the Boundary, every plan we’ve made—it’s all compromised if Maximus knows where we are, what we’re doing.”

As they entered the deeper sections of Cardinal, away from Heart surveillance, Jameson’s thoughts shifted into something harder. Shadera was trapped, yes. But she’d given him information he could use. She was still fighting, in her way. Still part of the resistance.

And she wasn’t alone anymore. She had him. Had them. Even from inside the Heart.

“This ends now,” Jameson said as they approached the Boundary. His voice carried new resolve, steel beneath the exhaustion. “No more secrets between us. No more compartmentalized intelligence. No more separate agendas.”

Jaeger’s gaze turned toward him. “Careful, Ghost. You’re sounding dangerously close to giving me orders.”

“Not orders.” Jameson met his gaze. “An ultimatum. The Daggermouths and the rebels work together from now on. Complete transparency. Combined resources, combined intelligence, combined pla

“Or what?” Jaeger’s voice held no fear, only curiosity.

“Or we lose everything.” Jameson’s answer was simple. “If Maximus knows as much as he claims, if he’s really prepared to bomb the Boundary, we’re already at war. And I refuse to lose the woman I love and this fight in the same week.”

The vehicle came to a stop at the final barrier between Cardinal and the Boundary. The team shifted, preparing to disembark, to disappear back into the shadows of their respective territories. But Jameson’s eyes remained fixed on Jaeger, waiting.

Finally Jaeger nodded, a single sharp movement. “Tomorrow,” he agreed. “Bring Farrow to Wolf’s Head and we will meet.”

It wasn’t a full capitulation, but it was enough for now. Jameson would take it—take any victory, no matter how small, in a day defined by loss. Jaeger’s hand landed on his shoulder, giving him a small squeeze as he exited the vehicle and disappeared into the night with his unit.

Jameson took one last deep breath before he stepped out of the vehicle into the familiar grime of the Boundary, already pla