Chapter 30 #2
Trey groans and drops his head back against mine. I try to sit up, cheeks burning, but he doesn’t let me—his hand on my hip holding me firmly in place, as if to say, don’t move, let them look. Which somehow makes it worse…and better.
Sam eases down into a nearby chair, still grinning.
“Relax, Romeo. Just happy to see you both alive. No kidnapping or shootings till next year, yeah?” Logan snorts, shaking his head. Trey finally cracks a smile, dragging his gaze to me.
“We should probably move.”
“No, no, stay there, this isn’t awkward at all.” Chace quips.
The laughter’s still bouncing around the room when the door kicks open again.
“Move your asses, you’re blocking the way,” comes Mac’s voice, carrying that no-nonsense edge that makes everyone obey without question.
Chace steps aside just as she appears, a box balanced carefully in her hands. Her blonde hair tied up in a messy knot, sunglasses perched on her head, and there’s this faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips the second she spots us on the sofa.
“Well,” she says lightly, gaze sweeping over me and Trey. Tangled, rumpled, still very much wrapped around each other. “You two look cozy.”
Trey shifts above me, his hand still resting on my hip, but Mac’s not fazed. Not even a flicker of surprise. Just that soft, affectionate smirk like she’s seen this coming a mile off.
“Looks like the Baker’s are making a go of it.
Hot.” Mac beams. “By the way, I brought you a wedding cake.” She crosses the room and sets the box down on the coffee table in front of us.
“Red velvet. Trey’s favorite. Figured you might as well have one, since someone decided to skip the reception part. ”
Trey looks up at Mac with that half-grin that always gives away his softer side.
“You didn’t have to do that, Mac.”
She shrugs.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to marry a stranger either, but here we are.”
She’s still looking at us, at Trey, then me, with something quieter behind her smile. Something understanding.
“Congratulations, you two,” she says softly. “For whatever it’s worth…you look happy, and uncomfortable. Trey get off Sera so she can compose herself, she looks about ready to combust.”
I mumble something about needing to freshen up and slip down the hallway to the bedroom. The quiet in here feels sterile—like it’s holding its breath—while their voices drift from the living room, laughing, joking, so normal it makes my chest ache.
My hands shake as I open the cardboard box from the pharmacy. Plan B. The words stare up at me. The foil glints under the light, and for a moment I just…stare at it, wondering how something so tiny can feel so impossibly heavy.
I try pressing the pill through the foil with my nail, but the bottom crumples, and suddenly the small, white, life-altering pill is sitting in my palm.
A knot rises in my throat. I swallow it with a quick sip of water, my hand instinctively pressing against my stomach like my body might understand the choice I just made.
When I lift my head, my gaze snags on a box sitting at the edge of the bed—neat, deliberate. My name—Seraphina—is scrawled across the top in Trey’s bold handwriting.
My breath catches.
When did he do this?
I sit down, carefully lifting the lid. Inside, there’s charcoal, pencils, brushes, tubes of paint, a brand-new sketchbook with a soft leather cover.
My heart clenches. I run my fingers over the supplies like they’re made of glass.
It’s everything I thought I’d lost. Only new, and untouched. He remembered.
I’m still tracing the edge of the sketchbook when the door creaks open. Trey leans against the frame, a slow smile tugging at his mouth, the kind that always makes my pulse stumble.
“You found it,” he says, nodding toward the open box.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
He steps inside, his voice low and certain.
“Yeah, I did. If your passion is anything like mine for music, then I didn’t really have a choice, did I?”
He moves closer, until the air between us hums. His eyes catch mine, soft but burning. He tilts his head, voice dropping to a near whisper.
“I really want to see your work, Sera. See what you see. Through your eyes.”
My breath catches. His words wrap around me like a touch. I can’t even find an answer, just a trembling smile as he reaches out, brushing his knuckles along my jaw.
“They want to have some drinks, order Chinese. Maybe hit a club tonight,” he says. “If you’re not ready, we can stay in. Just us.”
I close the lid of the box gently.
“No,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I want to go.” His grin spreads, slow and wicked.
“That’s my girl.”
When we walk back into the living room, the place is buzzing. Chace is flipping through TV music channels, legs sprawled across the coffee table like he owns the place. Sam’s half-watching, half-scrolling on his phone.
Before he can answer, a music video fills the screen mid-song. Logan’s the first thing I see—golden skin, dark hair, a girl draped across his lap, licking up his neck as he sings into the camera.
Mac rolls her eyes.
“Of course it’s that one.”
Then the shot changes—and I freeze.
Trey.
Lying on top of a brunette, his hands roaming her sweat-lit skin. His mouth at her throat. The camera lingers, the angle intimate enough to make my stomach twist.
He notices my silence immediately.
“It’s just acting, baby,” he says softly.
But I can’t tear my eyes away. My heart hammers in my chest, breath catching. The pill I took earlier feels heavy in my stomach, rising.
This must be what jealousy feels like. A slow, burning ache that has nothing to do with reason—and everything to do with wanting someone so much, it terrifies you.
Trey is beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him even without touching…but my eyes are glued to the television, to the version of him that doesn’t belong to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his jaw tighten. Then, without a word, he sinks onto the sofa and pulls me with him, guiding me gently until I’m settled across his lap. His palm slides up my thigh, fingers tracing through the denim. Each squeeze is deliberate. A reminder.
He’s here. With me.
The video ends, rolling into another. This time it’s a live performance—guitars screaming, lights flashing, the crowd a sea of raised hands.
The ache in my chest eases, replaced by something else entirely when Trey’s fingers lace through mine.
I exhale and let myself lean back against him, my head finding that perfect spot beneath his chin.
His breath grazes my neck, and then his lips follow—just a soft kiss that sends a shiver spiraling down my spine.
“So…” Logan’s voice cuts through the music, dry and amused. “How’d Phil take the news?”
Trey laughs, that low, rough sound that always seems to settle in my stomach.
“I used my wife as a distraction. He was mid-rant, full vein-popping fury…and then he just… stopped when he saw her.”
The room breaks into laughter. Even I can’t help it, turning just enough to meet his grin.
“You threw me to the wolves.” I tease, giving his chest a light smack.
“Baby,” he murmurs near my ear, “you are the wolf.”
The laughter’s still echoing when a sharp crackle bursts from the wall.
“Mr. Baker,” a calm, clipped voice says over the intercom. “Car approaching the front of the house. Delivery.”
Every head in the room swivels toward the speaker.
Chace’s grin is immediate.
“Fuck! I want to see this!” He’s already halfway to the door, practically bouncing. “Guys, wait until you see…” He dissolves into a snigger, waving for us to follow. Trey groans, dragging a hand down his face.
“What the hell did Chace do now?”
By the time we reach the front door, a matte-black SUV is already idling in the driveway, another one pulling up behind it.
A man steps out—tall, lean, all military precision.
His uniform is dark green, sleeves rolled, forearms corded with muscle.
The kind of man who looks like he’s seen too much and still stands straighter than anyone else.
“Mr. Baker,” he says, offering a firm nod. “I’m Captain Dune. I’ve got your delivery from Mr. Ryder.” Trey squints.
“Delivery?”
The back doors of the SUV open with a hydraulic hiss.
Two figures leap down—silent, fluid, lethal grace wrapped in fur.
The first its coat black and tan, chest deep and eyes sharp amber.
There are two of them, wolves or dogs… I couldn’t really tell.
The second, a leaner female, darker in coloring, her stance more measured but every muscle coiled tight.
Both wear tactical harnesses, patches stitched with their names in bold white: KLAUSE and ARTEMIS.
They don’t bark. They don’t move. They just stare—heads slightly tilted, eyes fixed, studying each of us in turn like they’re cataloguing threats.
“Holy shit,” Sam breathes. “Should I get them a dog treat or salute them? What the fuck, Chace.”
Chace’s grin is pure chaos.
“Aren’t they beautiful? Meet your new bodyguards, lovebirds! Wedding gift from yours truly.”
Trey’s brows lift so high they nearly hit his hairline.
“You got us army doggies?”
“Not just dogs,” Captain Dune says, stepping forward. His tone is matter-of-fact, but there’s pride there, too. “They both served four years. Klause specialized in explosives detection—sharp nose, sharper instincts. Artemis was a tactical apprehension dog. Fast, silent, and protective as hell.”
My heart clenches at that. They’re beautiful—and a little terrifying.
Dune continues, unclipping the leash but giving a quick command in what sounds like German. Neither dog moves.
“I’ll be staying on-site for about a month. They’ll need time to adjust—bond with you both. Learn the property, your voices, your energy. They’ll only respond to specific commands. These dogs aren’t pets, Mr. Baker. They’re partners.”
Trey nods, serious now. “Understood.”
Artemis turns her head toward me, ears pricked. For a second, it feels like she’s staring straight through me, not just at me. Then she pads forward. I tense instinctively—but Trey’s hand finds mine, steadying me.
Artemis stops in front of me and sits. Her gaze doesn’t waver, but her tail gives a single, slow wag.
“She likes you,” Dune says, watching closely. “That’s a good sign.”
Klause comes next, circling once before sitting beside Trey, his chest pressed against Trey’s leg like a soldier reporting for duty.
Chace’s grin softens just a little, pride flickering through the mischief.
“Figured you could both use the extra security. And honestly? They’re good company. Loyal. No bullshit.”
Trey looks down at the dogs, then at me—his expression something between awe and gratitude.
“Thank you, Chace.” he mutters, voice thick with something that sounds a lot like emotion.
Chace shrugs, “You’re welcome.”
The dogs sit there, side by side, still and silent—like twin sentinels.
Captain Dune straightens, handing Trey a thick folder bound in a black leather case.
“All their papers, medical records, and certifications,” he says, voice clipped and precise. “Artemis is four, Klause just past five. Both served together in an elite K9 unit overseas. Explosives detection, pursuit, crowd control, and close protection. You won’t find better.”
Trey takes the folder, flipping through the pages with the same concentration he gives his lyrics, his brow furrowed in that way that always makes my heart do strange, fluttering things.
“And they’re okay with…normal life?” Trey asks.
Captain Dune’s lips twitch, the faintest smile beneath his salt-and-pepper beard.
“They’ll adjust. They were trained to guard, not to fight unless provoked. They’re loyal to the bone. You treat them like family, they’ll die for you.”
My throat tightens at that. Something about the way he says family hits deep, like it’s the first time someone’s spoken the word without it hurting.
Dune kneels, motioning with his hand.
“Artemis. Klause. Hier.”
Both dogs move in perfect sync, flanking him. They don’t bark, don’t whine—just watch. Waiting. It’s eerie and beautiful all at once. Their focus isn’t aggression—it’s awareness. Like they’re reading the air for intent.
He glances up at Trey.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll take them around the perimeter, start familiarization drills.”
Trey nods, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Appreciate it, Captain.”
Dune dips his head. “They’re good dogs, Mr. Baker. But they’re more than that—they’re soldiers. They’ve seen things, lost handlers. Give them patience, give them consistency, and they’ll give you everything.”
My chest tightens again. Trey must see it, because he steps behind me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders.
“We can do that,” he says softly, his voice a low promise meant for both the dogs and me.
Captain Dune stands, giving a final nod. “I’ll have a walk with them and get them situated. Let them get the lay of the land. You’ll start command training tomorrow morning, nine sharp.”
As he leads the dogs around the back of the property, I catch one last glance of them—Artemis’s tail flicking once, Klause’s ears pricking at the faint sound of Trey’s voice as he murmurs something under his breath.
The moment they disappear down the steps, Trey exhales, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Well,” he mutters, grinning faintly, “guess we’ve got ourselves a furry security team.”
“The wolf shall dwell with the lamb…They are our guardians,” I whisper. “They feel like guardians.”
Trey wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close until I can feel his heartbeat against my back.
“Nun’s gotta nun, I suppose… they seem pretty incredible. Army veteran woofers, with an army guy in his…was that like a dress outfit? To help them settle in?”
“Nah, just wanted him in that to make you a little uncomfortable…you know…to fuck with you a bit.”
“Wait, so he’s not a soldier?”
“Dude. He is. He’s basically fucking Rambo.”
“But with wolves?”
“Belgian Malinois. Super dogs, basically.”
“They’re not going to bite me, right? Because Klause and I…seemed to bond. He stood by me—we shared a moment…”
“Nah, you’ll probably be fine,” Chace says, not meeting my eyes, smirking despite himself. “They’ve been through a lot. Want to work. And I can’t think of better people to give them love and purpose.”
“I like them. Thank you, Chace. That’s…really thoughtful.”
“If the wife approves, then I guess they’ll fit right in, huh, baby? Everyone in this house is a little battle-scarred—but we’re still standing.”