“She’s important to Ava. That makes her family. Thanks.”
The call ends, and I stare through the window.
Protecting women ain’t new. I’ve done it in uniform. I’ve done it wearing this cut. I’ve done it with blood on my knuckles and no time to ask questions.
But this?
This ain’t the same.
The girl sleeping in the bedroom? She’s not a job. Not a mission. She’s in my head already, and I fucking hate how fast that happened.
She laughs at my tea routine like I ain’t dangerous. Stands her ground when she’s scared out of her mind. Bites her lip like she doesn’t know I’m watching. Like she doesn’t know that look makes me want things I’m not supposed to want.
I scrub a hand down my face.
I should keep it clean. Professional.
I drag a chair to face the front door. Plant my boots. Rest my hand near the pistol on the table.
If something comes through that door, I’m the first thing it sees.
She’s taking a nap. Tucked in. Safe.
And nothing touches what's mine.
The cabin’s quiet. Stove ticking. Wind in the trees. Her breathing soft behind the wall.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine.
Not in the way that makes a woman nervous.
In the way that makes a man dangerous.
I think about the rule I’ve always lived by. Love makes you weak. Love makes you hesitate. Love gets you killed.
I’m not in love. I can’t be. It’s too soon.
But I think about the way my mother used to whisper prayers over me after my father snapped his belt. I think about that woman and her kids crossing a line into safety. I think about Nadia’s quiet strength and how easily she took space without apology.
Maybe not love. Butsomething.
And it makes me get up.
I check the lock on the front door, then walk to the bedroom and turn the knob gently. The door creaks open. Pale light filtersthrough the trees, catching on the curve of her shoulder where it rises from the blanket.
She stirs. Blinks. Her voice is soft.
“Saint?”
“Just checking on you,” I murmur. “Go back to sleep.”
She pushes up on one elbow, eyes still heavy with sleep. Her voice is husky.
“Will you stay?”
My hand tightens on the doorknob.
“Nadia…”
