Katelyn took a small sip of water before looking at Vincent, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “I only meant to take down that building. I saw on the surveillance footage earlier that they had a stash of weapons there.”

As she spoke, a flicker of lingering fear crossed her expression. At that moment, when everything spiraled out of control, there had been no time to think—only to act.

She set the glass down, her fingers briefly lingering on its cool surface. “I didn’t think they had that many explosives stored there. The people chasing me were right on my heels, and I didn’t have time to second-guess myself—I just set off the explosion.”

The urgency of it all had left no room for hesitation. The second she triggered the blast, she ran, never daring to look back. She’d been fast—lightning fast.

She’d thought she could escape unscathed, not even a speck of dust on her. But she had underestimated how many weapons were hidden inside. That one explosion had reduced the entire area to rubble. Even the addicts loitering near the building had been caught in the blast’s wake.

She herself had been thrown by the shockwave, pinned beneath the remains of a small hut in the slums. By some stroke of luck, the roof—patched together with iron sheets and wooden planks—had provided enough resistance to keep her from being crushed beneath the wreckage. Had it been any different, she wouldn’t be standing here now. Katelyn kept her explanation brief, but Vincent didn’t need more to picture just how close she had come to death. His gaze swept over her once more, his concern deepening. “Are you hurt? If you are, we need to get to a hospital—now.”

Laying low was important, but not nearly as important as her wellbeing.

Katelyn leaned back against the sofa, exhaustion pressing down on her. She shook her head. “No. I’m just drained. I need sleep.”

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After barely escaping death and evading the T Organization’s relentless pursuit, she had pushed herself beyond every limit. Now, with the tension finally ebbing away, she could hardly keep her eyes open. Vincent studied her for a moment, concern etched into every feature. Then, his voice softened.

“You can sleep. I’ll carry you to take a bath.”

Wait—what? Katelyn’s drowsiness evaporated in an instant. Even though they were together, the thought of Vincent helping her bathe while she was fully conscious made her skin prickle with unease.

She quickly straightened up, her gaze darting toward him. “I’ll wash myself. Where’s the bedroom in this place?” This was only a temporary hideout, and she wasn’t familiar with it.

Vincent caught the flustered look in her eyes, amusement flickering across his face. A slow, knowing smile tugged at his lips. But he didn’t push. Instead, he simply said, “It’s on the second floor. I’ll carry you.” He had no intention of bathing her anymore. But in her current state, he wasn’t about to let her struggle up the stairs alone.

Before she could refuse, he bent down and swept her into his arms with ease, lifting her in a bridal carry.

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