He meets my gaze. “We’ve been doing it since you drove up the mountain.”
That shouldn’t be comforting. But it is. I grab my hoodie and follow him out into the morning light, heart still bruised fromthe night—but steadier. Because whatever’s coming… I’m not facing it alone anymore.
SIX
CHASE
It’s not just attraction. That’s the first thing I admit to myself when I step out onto the porch and the cold air hits my lungs like a slap. Attraction is easy. Clean. You see a woman, you want her, end of story. This isn’t that. This is heavier. Quieter. It sits in my chest like a promise I didn’t mean to make and can’t take back.
Fiona stands on the other side of the yard with Harper, Emma, and Kayley, all of them fussing over the babies like they’re conducting some kind of tactical cuddle operation. Fiona’s got Aidan balanced on her hip like she’s done it a hundred times before, her smile a little tentative but real.
I don’t like that she’s not next to me. I don’t like how fast I notice it. I tell myself it’s just the job. She’s a potential target. She’s scared. We’re responsible for her safety. But that’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is I haven’t felt useful like this since the war.
Not “busy.” Not “occupied.” Useful.
There’s a difference.
Useful is when your presence changes the outcome. When you matter in a way that doesn’t end when the mission does. When you wake up and your first thought isn’twhat’s the threat todaybutwho do I protect today.
And right now? That answer is Fiona. Which is exactly why I don’t want to tell her brother about her nightmare last night. Gavin’s already in full commander mode. He doesn’t need more fuel for that fire. He doesn’t need to start locking her down like a VIP package with legs.
She needed comfort. She got it. End of story.
I head toward the meeting house, boots crunching on gravel. The place hums with that pre-brief energy—coffee, low voices, chairs scraping. The men are already filtering in.
Rafe’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking like he could fall asleep or start a war with equal ease.
Boyd is at the back, silent as a loaded weapon.
Thorne is near the window, eyes on the tree line like it personally offended him.
Silas is flipping through a thin folder, jaw tight.
Eli’s got a mug in one hand and a tablet in the other, already multitasking like a saint with a caffeine addiction.
Harlan and Rhett are arguing quietly about something that sounds like trucks and angles and whether someone “definitely bent that axle.”
I take a seat near the table just as Gavin walks in.
He doesn’t waste time.
“All right,” he says, clapping once. “Status.”
Silas looks up first. “No hits overnight. No movement on the perimeter. But Fiona’s story checks out so far. The ex has three burner phones registered under shell names and a couple of LLCs tied to short-term rentals and storage units. That’s not normal.”
“Nothing about this is normal,” Boyd rumbles.
Gavin nods, then looks straight at me. “How was her night?”
I don’t flinch. “Fine. She slept.”
Not a lie. Just not the whole story.
Gavin studies me for half a second longer than necessary, like he’s trying to decide whether to push. Then he moves on. “Good. Harper, Emma, and Kayley are keeping her busy with the kids for now. She doesn’t need to sit in on this.”
I don’t like that. Not because I think she should be in here, listening to men dissect her life like a problem to solve—but because I don’t like her being out of my line of sight.
I tell myself it’s tactical.