Chapter 25 Luke
Luke
I’ve got this.
It’s the last step.
But I need to be brave, and I know I can do it…
The West Quay evening is warm, the marina’s salty breeze mixing with the hustle and bustle as I sit at an outdoor table, sipping an ice-cold mocktail.
The pineapple and coconut taste hits my tongue, sweet and sharp, a small comfort against the tension coiling and whizzing around in my gut.
My phone’s in my hand, my latest post already live on X:
Time to make my move, the journalism life doesn’t sleep! #WestQuayVibes.
I’ve been dropping location hints every hour, carefully curated to lure Raphael Garcia, into our trap. Part of me thinks there’s no way he’ll fall for this, that he’ll smell a rat. But if Connor and the others think it’ll work then I’m ready to trust them.
Speaking of the Guards…
Connor, Cole, and Henry are out there, shadowing me at a distance, their presence a steady hum in my earpiece, keeping me grounded even as my heart races. I’m bait, and I know it, but I’m also a journalist, and this is my shot to finish what I started.
You dreamed of this life.
Now you’re living it.
You’re making a real difference, Luke…
I attempt a smile as I sip the mocktail.
I know that cartel eyes could be on me right now, waiting for the right time to make their move.
I don’t want to give anything away. As far as they’re concerned, I’m an over enthusiastic journalist who thinks he can mess with them and then hit the town for a few drinks.
I have to play my part and play it well.
The bar’s busy, waitresses bustling, plates clinking, but I’m hyper-aware of every glance, every car that passes.
So far, nothing—no cartel goons, no Garcia.
Connor’s voice in my earpiece is a lifeline, low and steady, his Daddy tone mixing with Guard precision.
“Stay sharp, Little Scoop,” Connor says, his words crackling softly. “We’ve got eyes on you. Any sign of trouble, you move when I say.”
I nod, take another sip, my fingers fidgeting with the straw.
My Little side’s clinging to thoughts of snuggling with Swift, to Connor’s voice, but my journalist side’s razor-focused, ready for Garcia to take the bait.
I glance at my phone, the post’s likes ticking up, and feel a spark of pride.
I’m doing this—playing my part, drawing out a cartel boss to save my life and break the story of a lifetime.
But there’s something else, something I need to tell Connor, something that’s been burning in me since the helicopter ride. I ghosted him, ran from that kiss, from him, and I need him to know I’m sorry, that I want this—us—for real.
I open my mouth, my finger brushing the earpiece.
“Connor, I need to tell you something,” I whisper, barely moving my lips.
My Daddy’s voice comes back, firm but warm.
“Wait until this is over, Luke.,” Connor says. “Focus. We’re close.”
I bite my lip, my heart sinking, but I know he’s right.
This isn’t the time—not with Garcia out there, not with the cartel ready to strike. And now it’s time to move onto the next, and hopefully final, phase of the plan…
I stand, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, Swift’s beak bouncing, and start walking, my sneakers soft on the pavement as I head toward the warehouse district at the marina’s edge.
The plan is simple: lure Garcia to a controlled spot, let Cole and Henry take him out, end the cartel’s immediate threat.
My social media posts have painted me as alone, vulnerable, a perfect target.
But I’m not alone—Connor’s out there, my shield, my Daddy, and I trust him with everything. The fact he has two of his best Guard buddies with him is the icing on the cake.
As I walk, I try to act as natural as possible. Connor briefed me before we started, and I think I’m doing a good job acting like I haven’t got a care in the world. But the cartel are no fools either—I need to stay on my A-game.
I’ve got this.
Just act normal.
One foot in front of the other…
The marina’s lights fade as I reach the warehouse district, the air growing cooler, heavy with the scent of saltwater and diesel.
The buildings loom, dark and silent, their rusted metal walls casting long shadows. My earpiece crackles, and Connor’s voice cuts through, sharp and urgent.
“Luke, you’ve got a tail,” Connor says. “Black SUV, three blocks back. It’s Garcia and his men. They’re moving in. Stay calm, keep walking, and get to the warehouse. We’ve got you.”
My heart lurches, fear spiking, but I force my legs to move, my breath shallow.
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling but steady, my journalist side kicking in. “I’m ready.”
I head for the warehouse we picked—a crumbling structure with clear sight lines for Cole and Henry’s sniper positions. The street’s quiet, too quiet, and I can feel eyes on me, the weight of danger pressing down.
Headlights flash behind me, and I hear the low growl of an engine.
I glance back, my pulse racing, and see the SUV speeding up, its tinted windows hiding the faces inside.
My earpiece crackles again.
“Luke, now!” Connor says, his voice sharp. “Get to the warehouse door, go!”
I break into a run, my backpack bouncing, my sneakers pounding the pavement as I sprint toward the warehouse.
The SUV screeches, doors slamming, and I hear shouts—Garcia and his men, barreling out, their boots heavy on the ground.
My heart’s in my throat, but I trust Connor, trust Cole and Henry.
I reach the warehouse door, my hands fumbling for the handle, when two sharp cracks split the air—sniper shots, precise and deadly.
I spin, my eyes wide, and see two of Garcia’s men drop, blood pooling on the pavement.
Another crack, and Garcia staggers, clutching his stomach, a red stain spreading across his shirt.
Connor’s there in a flash, sprinting from the shadows, his gun raised, his eyes blazing with Guard focus and Daddy protectiveness.
I watch as Connor reaches Garcia, who’s on his knees, gasping, blood dripping from his mouth.
“You’ll never be safe,” Garcia snarls, his voice weak but venomous, his eyes locked on me. “The cartel… we’ll keep coming. We never, ever forget!”
Connor’s face hardens, all fire and ice.
“Go to hell,” Connor says, and pulls the trigger, a single shot to Garcia’s head.
The cartel boss collapses, dead instantly, the air heavy with the finality of it. I freeze, my breath catching, the reality hitting me—Garcia is gone, but his words echo, chilling me to the bone.
Connor is at my side in an instant, his arms pulling me into a fierce embrace, his body warm and solid against mine. I cling to him, my face buried in his chest, my heart pounding.
“It’s over, Little Scoop,” Connor says, his voice low, rough, his lips brushing my hair. “You did it. You’re safe.”
I pull back, my eyes glistening, and look up at him, his face lit by the marina’s distant glow.
“Connor,” I say, my voice trembling but sure, “I don’t care if you say it’s still not the right time. But I have to speak. I have to. I love you. I want you to be my Daddy forever.”
I watch as Connor’s eyes soften, a raw, real warmth breaking through his Guard exterior, and he cups my face, his thumb grazing my cheek.
“I love you too, Luke,” Connor says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve always loved you. I’m your Daddy, now and forever Little Scoop.”
My heart swells, my Little side soaring, but before I can say more, Cole and Henry appear, their rifles slung over their shoulders, their faces grim but relieved.
“We gotta move,” Cole says, his voice cutting through the moment. “Garcia is down, but the police won’t be far away. And there could be other cartel soldiers around. Back to Robert’s penthouse, now.”
Connor nods, his arm still around me, but I feel my legs wobble, the stress of the night—Garcia, the shots, the chase—crashing over me like a wave.
My vision blurs, my knees buckling, but before I hit the ground, Connor scoops me up, tossing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
“I’ve got you, my darling boy,” Connor says, his voice warm, steady, all Daddy. “You’re safe.”
I cling to his back, Swift’s strap in my hand, my face pressed against his shoulder as he carries me toward the car. My body’s trembling, but my heart’s full—safe, loved, ready to commit to Connor in a way I never thought I could.
The fear’s still there, Garcia’s words echoing, but with Connor’s strength, his love, his vow, I feel unstoppable. We’re not done—not with the cartel still out there, not with Haynes’s network still a threat—but we’re together, and that’s enough.
The car’s engine hums as Connor drives, Cole and Henry in a second vehicle behind us, the city’s lights blurring past. I’m in the passenger seat, Swift in my lap, my backpack at my feet.
My body’s still buzzing from the adrenaline, from Connor’s words—I’m your Daddy, now and forever—and I feel a warmth I haven’t felt before.
My Little side is in full bloom, wanting to curl up in his lap, but my journalist side’s still sharp, thinking about Robert’s DOJ contact, about getting the flash drive’s evidence out, about ending Haynes for good.
“Connor,” I say, my voice soft but steady, “Garcia said I’d never be safe. Do you think… even with him gone, will the cartel keep coming?”
My Daddy glances at me, his hand reaching over to squeeze mine, his touch grounding.
“You should be clear now,” Connor says, his voice low, honest. “Garcia was their linchpin in West Quay. With him down, they’re scrambling.
We get that flash drive to Robert’s contact, and Haynes’s network collapses.
The cartel’s power takes a hit. You’ll be safe, Luke, but we’re not taking chances. I’m with you, every step.”
I nod, my fingers tightening on Swift, and feel that bond, deeper now, unbreakable.
“I’m all in,” I say, my voice firm. “With you, with the story. I want this—us, forever.”
Connor’s lips curve, a rare, real smile, and he squeezes my hand again.
“Good boy,” Connor says, his Daddy tone sending a shiver through me, and I blush, my Little side basking in his praise.
The car speeds toward Robert’s penthouse, the city’s skyline looming, and I know this isn’t the end—not yet.
But I’m ready.
Ready to fight, ready to love, ready to commit to him fully, once and for all.