Over the years, he had meticulously crafted his escape routes with that singular promise in mind. Every operation, every raid, every potential disaster included a path that would ultimately lead him back to her. It was the one constant in a life defined by chaos.
So when he finally arrived at her door, shoddily held together after the failed attack, he was certain those were his final moments. Blood soaked through his shirt, each breath a laborious effort. The world around him had blurred into a haze of pain and fading consciousness, but the sight of that door—her door—held him together.
When it creaked open, the first expression on Carol's face was one of pure shock, her eyes widening as they took in the battered figure leaning heavily against her frame. That shock, however, quickly transformed into irritation, her brows knitting together.
