Updated Feb 18, 2026 • ~6 min read
WILLA
Waking up in Archer’s arms is becoming my favorite thing.
Even after last night’s nightmare.
Maybe especially after last night’s nightmare.
He’s already awake.
Watching me.
“Creepy,” I murmur.
“You drool in your sleep.”
“I do not!”
“You do. It’s cute.”
I bury my face in his chest.
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Hour. Maybe two.”
“That’s definitely creepy.”
“Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
My heart flips.
His phone rings.
Tobias.
“Yeah?”
I listen to half the conversation.
“Understood… When?… I’ll be there.”
He hangs up.
“They found Malcolm.”
My stomach drops.
“Where?”
“Abandoned shipping yard. Thirty miles north. Tobias is assembling a team.”
“When?”
“Now.”
He gets out of bed.
Starts getting dressed.
Tactical gear. Vest. Weapons.
Professional. Efficient.
Deadly.
I’ve never seen this side of him.
FBI Agent Archer Saint.
It’s intimidating.
And kind of hot.
“What about me?”
“You stay here. Protected. FBI agents outside. You don’t leave. You don’t answer the door. You stay safe.”
“I want to go with you.”
“No.”
“Archer—”
“This is non-negotiable. Last night was too close. You almost died. I almost lost you. So you’re staying here where I know you’re safe.”
He’s using his agent voice.
No room for argument.
But I try anyway.
“What if Malcolm has backup? What if he escapes again? You might need—”
“Willa. Please. Just stay here. For me.”
The way he says it.
Desperate. Scared.
I can’t argue with that.
“Okay. But you come back to me. Promise.”
“I promise.”
He kisses me.
Long. Deep. Like goodbye.
Then he’s gone.
I’m alone in his apartment.
FBI agents outside the door.
Helpless.
Waiting.
I hate it.
I try to distract myself.
Grade papers. Make coffee. Watch TV.
Nothing works.
My phone rings.
Marcus.
“Hello?”
“Willa. It’s Marcus. I need your help.”
“Are you okay? You should be in the hospital—”
“I checked myself out. Listen, I have intel on Malcolm. But I can’t reach Archer or Tobias. Lines must be compromised.”
“What intel?”
“Malcolm’s planning something. Today. At the shipping yard. It’s a trap.”
My blood runs cold.
“What kind of trap?”
“Explosives. The whole site is wired. If Archer goes in, he’s dead.”
“I need to warn him—”
“You can’t. Communications are down. Malcolm has someone inside the FBI feeding him information.”
This can’t be happening.
“What do I do?”
“I’m sending a car. Agent Rodriguez. Black SUV. He’ll take you to a secure location where we can contact Archer safely.”
“The FBI agents outside—”
“Don’t trust them. We don’t know who’s compromised. Just Agent Rodriguez. He’s clean.”
Every instinct screams this is wrong.
But if Archer is walking into a trap…
“How do I know you’re really Marcus?”
“What?”
“How do I know this isn’t Malcolm pretending to be you?”
Silence.
“Archer told you about Nadia. His ex-partner who betrayed him. She died in the raid three years ago. Archer has a scar on his left shoulder from that operation. And he talks in his sleep. Says your name. Every night.”
Details only Marcus would know.
“Okay. I trust you.”
“Good. Agent Rodriguez will be there in five minutes. Black SUV. License plate JKR-4739. Be ready.”
He hangs up.
I grab my coat.
My phone.
Wait by the window.
Five minutes later, a black SUV pulls up.
License plate: JKR-4739.
I slip out the back exit.
Avoid the FBI agents at the front.
Get in the SUV.
The driver looks professional. Clean cut. FBI badge on his belt.
“Agent Rodriguez?”
“That’s me. Buckle up. We need to move fast.”
We drive.
Away from the apartment.
Toward the highway.
“Where are we going?”
“Secure FBI facility. Twenty minutes north.”
“And from there?”
“We’ll contact Agent Saint. Warn him about the trap.”
I nod.
Try to calm my racing heart.
We drive in silence.
Ten minutes pass.
Fifteen.
“How much farther?”
“Almost there.”
But we’re not heading to any FBI facility.
We’re heading to industrial wasteland.
Abandoned buildings.
No people.
Wrong.
This is wrong.
“Stop the car.”
“We’re almost—”
“STOP THE CAR.”
He doesn’t stop.
Accelerates.
Panic floods through me.
I reach for the door handle.
Locked.
Child safety locks.
Fuck.
“Who are you?”
He smiles in the rearview mirror.
“Someone who’s going to make a lot of money turning you over to Malcolm Domenico.”
Not Agent Rodriguez.
Not FBI.
Trap.
I was so stupid.
“Marcus didn’t call me, did he?”
“Marcus is still in the hospital. Sedated. We cloned his phone.”
We.
Malcolm’s people.
I’m in so much trouble.
The SUV pulls into an abandoned warehouse.
Different one from last night.
More isolated.
No SWAT team waiting.
The driver gets out.
Opens my door.
Gun pointed at me.
“Move.”
I move.
Because what choice do I have?
Inside, Malcolm is waiting.
Smiling.
“Willa Crane. We finally meet properly.”
I say nothing.
“You’re smarter than I expected. Not smart enough, obviously. But smarter than most.”
“Fuck you.”
His smile widens.
“Spirited. I see why Archer likes you.”
He circles me.
Predatory.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to call Archer. Tell him you’re in trouble. Beg him to come alone. And when he arrives, I’m going to kill him. In front of you. And then I’m going to kill you too.”
“He won’t come.”
“Of course he will. He loves you. Isn’t that sweet?”
Malcolm pulls out my phone.
Unlocks it with my fingerprint.
Finds Archer’s contact.
Hits call.
Puts it on speaker.
The gun is pointed at my head.
Archer answers immediately.
“Willa? I told you to stay—”
“Archer.” My voice breaks. “I’m sorry. I fucked up.”
Silence.
Then: “Where are you?”
“Warehouse. East industrial district. Malcolm has me.”
I can hear his rage through the phone.
“I’m coming.”
“No! It’s a trap! He wants—”
Malcolm ends the call.
“Perfect. He’ll be here in twenty minutes. And then you both die.”
I should be terrified.
And I am.
But I’m also angry.
Furious.
At Malcolm. At myself. At this whole situation.
I’m not dying today.
Neither is Archer.
I just need a plan.
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