Saint’s voice turns cold. “You’re breathing my air and calling her a problem. I’m giving you one chance to walk away.”
A beat of silence.
“Can’t do that.”
Saint sighs. “Then you just chose violence.”
The tension snaps.
A crash of shattering glass follows. A rock flies through the front window. I duck instinctively as Saint pivots, raising his weapon.
Something small and silver lands inside.
Flashbang.
Saint reacts instantly, kicking it back out outside before it arms. It explodes outside with a deafening crack. Shouts follow.
Gunfire erupts.
Saint moves fast, positioning himself between the bedroom and the door, weapon steady. His presence alone is a shield, and I stay frozen just behind the door, barely breathing.
He fires twice through the wall. I hear a shout and the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.
Then another figure surges into view. Ghost barrels around the cabin like a freight train, grabbing a man and slamming him against the porch post. Another raises a gun, but Ghost puts him down with a clean shot to the leg.
It all happens in under a minute.
Then silence.
No more shouting. No more boots. Just the distant rustle of leaves and the quiet creak of the cabin settling again.
Saint lowers his weapon slowly. His breathing stays even, but when his eyes find mine, they burn hotter than anything I’ve ever seen.
“You alright?” he asks.
I nod, but my chest tightens. “They were going to take me.”
“They're not going to take you,” he says, crossing the room to me. “Not while I’m breathing.”
“You said that before.”
He stops in front of me, jaw tight. “I meant it.”
His hand lifts and strokes my cheek, fingers rough and gentle at the same time. I lean into the touch like I need it to breathe.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “We still have to get you back to your sister. And then we find out who gave your old man your number.”
I go cold all over again. “What if I’m putting her in danger by being near her?”
Saint shakes his head. “You’re not. Being with us makes you harder to reach, not easier. Ava knows what she’s doing. Viper does too. We’ve got you.”
His tone is calm, but underneath it is the kind of rage you don’t recover from. The kind of fury that only burns hotter when aimed at someone hurting the people you care about.
I look up at him. “And what do I do? Just stand here and let myself be protected like some scared little girl?”
“No,” he says, eyes never leaving mine. “You breathe. You rest. You heal. You let yourself feel safe without having to earn it. You let yourself be loved without owing a damn thing in return. That’s your job now.”
