"I'm coming with you."
Zain was already halfway into his tactical gear, his jaw locked, movements sharp with fury. He paused, looking at me like I'd just said I wanted to walk into a burning building.
"No," he said flatly.
"I'm not asking."
"Yes, you are," he growled, turning fully toward me. "You think I'll bring you into a potential ambush right after you—" He stopped himself, biting back the rest. Marked you. Claimed you. Loved you.
I crossed the room to him. "I can handle myself. You said it—you won't let anyone touch me. Then prove it. Let me stand beside you."
His eyes searched mine. The storm inside him swirled deeper, more dangerous than before—but this time, it wasn't directed at me. It was for me. His protective instincts warred with his trust in me, until at last, he exhaled sharply and nodded once.
"You stay in the middle of the formation," he ordered. "You don't leave my side. And if I say move, you run. Understood?"
I nodded, and that was enough.
