I'll never take Liberty for granted.
“Life taught me a lot of lessons,” I say quietly, “The most important one is love can never be taken for granted, it's earned every single day.”
Life would never be a hardship with her.
“I've never thought about falling in love,” she confesses, leaning her cheek against my palm, gently rubbing her face against my hand. “It felt too dangerous.”
How could someone hurt this woman? Fucking hell. And they did it when she was just a teenage girl...
Energy crackles inside of my head.
No one will ever hurt her again.
“Understandable that it feels dangerous.” My thumb strokes over her cheek as a dark vine twists around my stomach, anger at her abuser surfacing for the thousandth time. “You know I would never touch you in anger, right?”
If there's one thing I need her to know, it's this.
She wraps her hand around my wrist, pulling me tighter against her. “I have complete trust in you.”
A profound sense of relief settles in my bones alongside something powerful, destructive, and so primal that there's no way to fight it.
I would do anything to keep this extraordinary woman safe and happy.That's my job now.
I wrap my arm tighter, pulling her close. A fierce protectiveness tightening my spine. “Sleep angel, you're safe.”
She presses closer, sighing softly as my mind goes into tactical mode.
A strategy is first order.
Deal with her brother. Buy a house to make into a home with her.
Liberty softens, her breathing growing deeper and I lock myself into stillness. I will not disturb her.
It's an extremely bad time for my phone to ring, but that's exactly what happens.
Shit. I calm her by pressing kisses to her cheek. “Shhh. Easy. It's okay.”
“Who is that?”
“The ringtone says it's one of the team. Sorry, I need to take this.”
Reaching for the phone on the stone nightstand, I growl with frustration. “Better be important.”
CHAPTER 19
The door clicks shut behind Spence, and suddenly the massive bed feels too big, too empty. I can hear the low rumble of his voice through the door—controlled, tight, definitely not happy.
My stomach twists.
I scoot up against the headboard, pulling my knees to my chest. “Music, volume up.”
Michael Bublé's smooth voice fills the room, crooning about being home for Christmas, and I try to focus on the lyrics instead of the muffled conversation happening in the hallway.
It's probably just team stuff. Mission updates. Nothing to do with—I jump when my phone dings with an incoming text.
ROSALIE: Hey! Just checking in.”
I nearly fumble the phone. What do I say? Oh my god.
