Chapter 9
Miles
“Yum,” I say, momentarily forgetting who I’m with—and why I’m with him.
The bagel’s warm in my hands, sesame seeds crunching as I take a bite, the cream cheese tangy and rich. The harbor’s morning bustle hums around us—sailors shouting, seagulls swooping for scraps, the sun climbing higher and warming my face.
Travis sits across from me at the café’s outdoor table, his third double espresso half-finished, his eyes steady on me.
There’s something about the way he listens, quiet but intense, that makes me feel seen in a way I’m not used to. It’s unsettling, but I’m not here to get cozy. I’m here to survive, to get answers, and maybe—just maybe—turn the tables on the Night Ops Guard.
I sip my espresso, the bitter kick grounding me, and decide to give him a piece of my truth. Not everything, but enough to keep him talking. If I’m stuck with him, I might as well see what he lets slip.
“You asked about my background,” I say, setting my bagel down. “Fine. I’ll tell you why I do what I do.”
Travis leans back, his arms crossed, that Daddy vibe radiating.
“I’m listening, Little,” Travis says, his voice low and gravelly.
I bristle at the nickname but push on, my gaze drifting to the harbor’s shimmering water.
“I grew up on the edge of a small city, near the coast,” I begin.
“My grandfather had a ranch—big, sprawling, with golden wheat fields that glowed under the summer sun and a little orchard where I’d spend hours climbing apple trees.
He called it Willow Creek, after the stream that ran through it.
He’d built it from nothing, poured his whole life into it.
He was a tough old guy, weathered hands and a laugh that could fill a room, but he was gentle too.
He’d let me ride on his tractor, tell me stories about the land, how every inch of it held a memory—his first harvest, my grandma’s rose garden, the barn where my mom learned to ride a bike. ”
My throat tightens, and I pause, picking at a sesame seed.
“He taught me what it meant to fight for something you love. But when I was twelve, a company moved in—some big agribusiness called Horizon Agro, all slick suits and fake promises. They wanted the land for a chemical plant, said it’d bring jobs, prosperity.
They started buying up farms in the area, but it wasn’t honest. They’d send lawyers to pressure families, spread rumors about land values crashing, even got the county to jack up taxes through their cronies in local government.
My grandfather fought them tooth and nail.
He’d stand at town meetings, voice shaking with rage, calling them out.
But they were relentless—forged documents, claimed his land was rezoned for industrial use, even sent goons to intimidate him at night.
I’d hear him pacing, muttering about how he’d never sell, how Willow Creek was his legacy. ”
I swallow hard, the memory like a knife.
“They wore him down. By the end, he was a shadow of himself—sleepless, gaunt, his laugh gone. They evicted him when I was thirteen, bulldozed the orchard before he could even pack. He died a year later. Heart attack, the doctors said, but I know it was heartbreak. Willow Creek was his soul, and losing it killed him. I was at his bedside when he passed, holding his hand, promising I’d make it right.
From that moment, I swore I’d fight for people like him—farmers, shopkeepers, anyone crushed by the powerful.
But I wanted to do it right, within the law, so no one could twist it against me.
That’s why I became a lawyer, why I joined Knox & Rain.
They’re about justice, not just money. And that’s why I can’t stand people like your Night Ops Guard, who think they’re above the law, doing whatever they want, no consequences. ”
Wow.
Did I really just say all that?
But, it might be what I needed to give to get something back…
Travis’s jaw tightens, but his expression softens, just a fraction.
“Sounds like your grandfather was a hell of a man, Miles,” Travis says. “I respect that fire in you. Fighting for what’s right—it’s not easy.”
His words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of warmth.
Travis gets it, or at least he’s pretending to. But then he leans forward, his voice dropping.
“But what about Knox & Rain?” Travis asks. “You sure they’re as clean as you think? I’ve seen their client list. Some of those names—politicians, corporations—aren’t exactly saints. I could say more, but you tell me what you think about that.”
My stomach twists, and the warmth vanishes.
“What are you implying?” I snap, my bagel forgotten.
“That I’m working for crooks? Knox & Rain fight for the little guy.
They took on cases like my grandfather’s, went after companies like Horizon Agro.
They’re not perfect, but they’re not what you’re making them out to be.
You don’t get to question my work when you’re the one running with a vigilante gang. ”
Travis’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t snap back.
“I’m just saying, Little, you might not know everything about your bosses. You’re smart, but you’re not omniscient.”
The condescension in his tone sets my teeth on edge.
“Don’t patronize me,” I say, my voice sharp. “You’re the lawbreaker here, Travis. Don’t act like you’ve got the moral high ground.”
The air between us turns cold, the harbor’s warmth doing nothing to thaw it. Travis’s jaw ticks, and he sets his cup down with a deliberate clink.
“Time to head back,” Travis says, his voice flat. “We’re done here.”
I glare at him, my heart pounding with anger and something else—disappointment, maybe, that he’d turn this on me after I opened up.
I grab my backpack, Bean’s ears peeking out, and follow Travis, the bagel sitting heavy in my stomach—the good feeling I thought we were building suddenly tasting very off indeed.
Back at Travis’s apartment, I’m still seething.
The sleek, sparse space feels like a cage, all clean lines and cold steel, just like him.
He’s got the nerve to question my firm?
Who the hell does he think he is?
A mercenary, a killer, part of a shadowy group that operates outside the law, and he’s pointing fingers at Knox & Rain?
My grandfather’s face flashes in my mind—his weathered smile, the way he’d call me “sprout” while we walked the fields—and the idea that Travis could taint my work, my purpose, makes my blood boil.
I pace the living room, my sneakers scuffing the hardwood, while Travis sits on the couch, his laptop open, typing away like nothing’s wrong. His calm only fuels my rage.
“You don’t know anything about Knox & Rain,” I say, my voice shaking. “You think you can just throw accusations around? I’ve spent years building my career, fighting for people like my grandfather, people who lost everything. And you—a murderer—dare to lecture me?”
Travis glances up, his expression unreadable.
“Calm down, Miles,” Travis says. “I’m just asking questions. You’d do well to remember who’s in charge, Little.”
“Don’t call me that!” I snap, my hands balling into fists. “You don’t get to play Daddy when you’re part of the problem! You and your Guard think you can do whatever you want—kill, intimidate, hide in the shadows. My grandfather fought monsters like you, and so do I!”
Travis sets his laptop on the coffee table, standing slowly, his eyes darkening.
“You need to watch your tone, Miles,” Travis growls. “I’m trying to help you, but you’re making it real hard.”
“Help me?” I laugh, bitter and sharp, my anger spiraling.
“You’re holding me hostage, Travis! You and your precious Guard are the ones I’m after, and you think you can turn this on my firm?
You’re a hypocrite!” My voice rises, and I’m pacing faster now, my hands trembling.
I glance at his laptop, the screen glowing with whatever shady work he’s doing, and something snaps.
“You don’t get to sit there, all smug, judging me! ”
I lunge forward, slamming his laptop shut with a crack that echoes in the quiet room. The screen flickers, and for a second, I think I’ve broken it.
My heart lurches—fear, defiance, and a reckless thrill all at once.
Travis’s eyes flash, and he steps closer, towering over me.
“That was a mistake, Little,” he says, his voice a growl that sends a shiver through me, equal parts fear and something I refuse to name. “You’re gonna learn to behave, and you’re going to have your first lesson right now.”
With that, Travis takes me by the hand and marches me into the kitchen. Before I know what’s happening, Travis is reaching into the kitchen cupboard and pulls out a wooden spoon, it’s smooth surface shiny underneath the kitchen’s spotlights.
“Safeword,” Travis growls.
“W-w-w-what?” I splutter. “You have to be kidding me?”
“I said safeword,” Travis snarls. “You need to learn your place, young man. And you’ll start by having your bottom warmed up with my wooden spoon. I won’t ask again. Safeword. Now.”
“Red,” I say, my legs going weak as Travis leads me right up to the edge of the brushed steel kitchen table and bends me over the edge. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have slammed—”
“Save it,” Travis says, his hands reaching around and unbuttoning my jeans before yanking them down to my ankles. “I’ll expect a proper apology later. But right now, it’s all about instilling some corrective discipline in you.”
I gasp as Travis runs the wooden spoon up my brief-covered ass, teasing and tormenting me. I feel my cheeks burn and my cock tingle as the wooden spoon’s rim works inside my briefs and pulls it down over my cheeks in one slow but sure movement.
“Keep still,” Travis warns as I hear him swish the wooden spoon through the air. “This will hurt enough on your fleshy bottom. You don’t want to take any unnecessary shots to the back of your legs.”
“Y-y-yes, D…” I reply, cutting myself off short and doing everything I can to stop my knees from knocking together as my entire body reacts in a million different ways to what is happening right now.
“Good,” Travis says, resting his hand firmly on the lower of my back as my t-shirt hikes upward. “Now prepare to take six firm swats on each cheek. And in the spaces between each swat, I want you to consider how you’re going to shower proper respect from this point onward. Got it?”
“Got it,” I reply, my cock throbbing in anticipation as my cheeks await their first taste of Travis’s wooden spoon.
“One!” Travis says, his voice even and calm as he lands a perfectly placed shot onto my right cheek and follows it up with an equally hot shot onto my left buttock. “One!”
“Owwwww,” I whimper, my ass tensing and releasing as the shots land, my head spinning and a feeling of total submission coming over me that makes me equal parts aroused and terrified. “That hurts.”
“No talking, I want you to think about what you’ve done and how you’re going to do better from now on,” Travis says. “We need to be on the same page. And this punishment will do just that if you work with me. Now, silence.”
Aside from some whimpers and gasps as Travis brings the full force of his wooden spoon onto my rapidly heating up ass cheeks, I do as I’m told. By the time he reaches the sixth and final swat on each cheek, I’m feeling the heat—but I’m also feeling calmer and a lot less stressed than I was before.
Suddenly, I’m not questioning Travis’s motivations.
And as he holds me in position and begins to apply some much needed cooling gel to my blotchy cheeks, I let out a sigh of relief—and it doesn’t go unnoticed either.
“That’s a good boy,” Travis says, a knowing tone in his voice. “You took those swats like a champ. You’re tough, and that’s a strength. But I want you to feel like you can let go with me, give in to your fears. I want you to see the truth that might be staring you in the face.”
“That I’m a Little who needs a Daddy?” I ask, momentarily losing all my self-consciousness.
“Well, that’s obvious already,” Travis chuckles, working his gel-covered thumb down my ass crack.
“I’m talking about your work life. But we won’t get into that now.
I think what we need to do is get your butt finished off and then how about we watch a movie or a couple of episodes of a show you like.
The work can come later. After all, no one knows you’re here. For now, we’ve got time on our side.”
I let out a long sigh, one of relief.
For the first time in a long time, I feel the weight of the world lift off my shoulders, and it’s all down to Travis and his big wooden spoon.
I know this doesn’t change anything in the long run, but right now I’m going to let myself live in the moment—and if that involves some episodes of Lilo & Stitch, then that’s even better!