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And her friend escaped, rushing from the bedroom before Mica could rush after her. She turned to her mate then and smiled as his arms went around her.
Because there was no place she would rather be. And no place, she knew, that her mate would rather be, than right here, in each other’s arms.
She was the life that kept his heart beating, she kept him breathing, she kept the dreams he’d never realized he was holding on to safe within the love she had never lost for him.
Weeks later, after more than one inquest into Brandenmore’s death, and the investigation into the escape that had nearly been fatal for both Mica and Navarro, the last suspected spy at Sanctuary was weeded out.
There would always be spies, traitors. Neither Sanctuary nor Haven would ever be free of danger. But, finally, the last of the spies who had laid into the communications and security network of the compound had been disposed of and more information was coming in daily concerning the hidden files the Breeds had found within Brandenmore Research, once his death had facilitated their ability to get into the offices and begin searching.
The history of Phillip Brandenmore’s evil had spanned eighty years, and more deaths than anyone could have guessed. And it wasn’t just Breeds. He’d been an equal opportunity murderer.
Now, as spring was making its first appearance across the mountains of Colorado, Mica lay safe and secure in her mate’s arms and simply let herself believe.
Her father was actually pleased, her mother proud as hell of her upcoming son-in-law. Strange how accepting her father could be if it meant the child he loved would have the best protection possible.
She’d never known that he’d rather see her mated with a Breed than married to a man he would always fear couldn’t protect her.
“You’re thinking too hard, Amaya,” Navarro whispered against her hair as she lay draped over his chest. “No nightmares in my arms.”
Her head lifted. “No nightmares ever,” she agreed. “Just us.”
“Just us, love. Always, just us.”