Zach’s hands clenched. His reflection in the window showed a man holding position as control frayed at the edges.
If anyone discovered what he was—what he could do—Emma would become a variable in their equations. A liability. A pressure point. Anyone hunting him might target her for information, leverage, or simple collateral.
She didn’t ask for it, but knowing him made her one anyway.
Despite her questions, her pushing, herhurt, he shouldn’t have told her.
Zach paced the small living room, each step measured and silent. His mind ran scenarios, contingencies, threat matrices. Analysis usually brought clarity.
Tonight, it sharpened the truth he’d always known.
Once someone knew who, and what, he was, it couldn’t be undone. The risk existed. The target was painted and live.
Another sound from the bedroom—softer now, like Emma settling into stillness. Not sleep. Just the quiet of someone alone with thoughts too heavy to share.
He stopped pacing. Looked at the closed door.
He could go in. Apologize. Explain everything—the full scope of what being a Guardian meant, why he kept it secret, and what exposure meant for both of them. The risk Marcus represented. Maybe she’d understand. Maybe they could find a way forward.
Or maybe he’d make it worse.
Emma asked for space to process, to decide if she could live with what she now knew. She would come to him if she wanted more information. He needed to respect that, even if it killed him.
Zach paced to the window again, positioning himself to monitor the approach to the cottage. Guard duty. Sentry rotation. The role he understood.
The night beyond the glass was dark; the moon hidden behind clouds. Somewhere out there lurked an assassin targeting Emma. Someone wanted her dead, and Zach had stopped it—but at what cost? And for how long?
She knew now. The secret he’d guarded for decades was exposed.
The worst part?
The assassin wasn’t the only threat on the island. He himself might be the worst threat Emma had ever encountered. His abilities, his secrets, the danger shadowing his every move.
Not because he would hurt her—god, the thought made his chest tight—but because his very existence attracted darkness. Violence. Attention that destroyed normal lives.
Emma deserved better. Safety, stability, a life without looking over her shoulder for threats she never asked to face. He broke his own rules with Emma. Let her too close. Let himself feel too much.
Now they were both paying the price.
Zach remained at his post, watching the gloom, listening to the muted sounds from the bedroom. His training demanded that he maintain perimeter security. His heart wanted to go to her.
Movement flashed in the trees, and his instincts roared to life. Someone was out there. Probably not the assassin—he needed to treat his wounds. A conspirator perhaps. But he couldn't leave Emma unprotected.
He grabbed his tablet and messaged his second in command.
Intruder on the beach earlier—attacked Emma. Tighten cottage perimeter. Sweep environs for intrusion.
He dropped the tablet back down and returned to studying the tree line.
She’s going to leave in the morning. Leave me. Leave my protection.
The prediction formed with cold precision, and somehow hurt worse than outright rejection.
The only thing that might keep Emma safe was to let her go when morning came. Assign someone else to watch over her.
His gut tightened at the thought, but he didn't stop scanning the tree line. He didn't see anything suspicious, but the hairs on the back of his neck still stood up.
Anyone I love becomes a target.
