Chapter 3
THREE
WYATT
I sit in the chair beside the bed, elbows on my knees, watching Junie sleep.
She looks small under the heavy quilt, her dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink.
Her breathing’s steady now, deep and even, the kind of sleep that comes after the body has been pushed too far for too long.
Every few minutes her fingers twitch against the blanket, like she is still running in her dreams. I hate that.
I hate that fear still follows her even here.
She’s beautiful. Not in the polished, magazine way.
In the real way. The kind that hits you low in the gut and stays there.
Her lips are slightly parted, soft and pink.
There’s a small freckle just below her left eye that I keep noticing.
Her hands are delicate but strong, the kind that have worked and fought.
I want to trace every line of her face with my fingers.
I want to pull her into my arms and tell her she doesn’t have to run anymore. I want her.
The attraction is instant and fierce. It started the second I saw her stumbling through the snow, all fire and fear and stubborn determination.
Now it’s stronger. Deeper. I’ve known her less than a day, and already she’s under my skin.
I keep thinking about the way she felt in my arms when I carried her back.
Light. Trusting. Warm against my chest even though she was freezing.
I want to feel that again. I want to feel her skin under my hands.
I want to taste her. I want to bury myself inside her and show her exactly how safe she is with me.
But I control it. Barely. She’s hurt. Scared.
Running from something dark enough to make her risk the mountain in a storm.
The last thing she needs is me looking at her like I want to devour her.
So I sit here, hands clenched on my thighs, and force myself to breathe steady.
I’m not an animal. I can wait. I will wait.
She needs rest. Eli said so. Her body’s exhausted. Her leg is going to take time. I’ll give her that time. I’ll give her whatever she needs.
While she sleeps, I pull my laptop from the desk drawer. I need to know more. Not just about her. About her brother. Caleb Bellis. The name she gave me earlier. The reason she’s out here alone and bleeding. I open the encrypted connection and start digging.
The screen glows blue in the dim room. My fingers move fast across the keyboard.
I’m good at this. Too good. Years of working off the books for people who needed things found or hidden taught me how to move through digital shadows without leaving footprints.
I start with public records. Birth certificate.
School history. Last known address. Nothing unusual at first. Average kid. Average life. Then I go deeper.
Financials show up next. Caleb had a sudden spike in income six months ago.
Cash deposits. Large ones. No clear source.
Then they stop. Abruptly. Right around the time Junie said he went missing.
I cross-reference with known players in the area.
Small-time crews. Smugglers. A name pops up that makes my jaw tighten.
Victor Lane. Piper’s father. Low-level but connected.
The kind of man who uses scared kids like Caleb to move product or run errands.
The kind who disposes of them when they become liabilities.
He’s put away for now, but I’m sure his network still runs strong.
I keep digging. Phone records. Social media ghosts.
Caleb’s digital footprint goes dark two weeks ago.
No activity. No pings. But there’s a shadow account linked to one of Lane’s shells.
A burner number that called Junie’s phone the night she said her brother disappeared.
The pieces do not add up neatly. Caleb wasn’t just in trouble.
He’s in deep. And Junie’s chasing him straight into the fire.
I close the laptop and rub my face. She needs to know. But not yet. She’s still healing. Still scared. I’ll tell her when she’s stronger. When she can handle it without running again.
A soft sound from the bed pulls my attention. Junie’s stirring. Her eyes flutter open and find me. For a second she looks confused, then recognition settles in. She pushes herself up slowly, wincing at the movement.
“How long was I out?” she asks, voice husky from sleep.
“A few hours. You needed it.”
She looks around the room again, like she’s still deciding if she can trust this place.
Trust me. Her eyes are big and brown and full of questions.
Cute. She’s so damn cute it makes my chest tight.
The way her hair is messy from the pillow.
The way she bites her lip when she’s thinking.
The way she tries to act tougher than she feels.
“You can take a shower if you need to,” I say. “Bathroom’s through that door. I’ll get you some clean clothes. Eli left more bandages too.”
She smiles, small and grateful. “Thank you. That would be nice. I feel like I’ve been covered in mud and blood for days.”
I stand and pull a fresh towel and one of my softer shirts from the dresser. I set them on the bed for her. “Take your time. I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”
She nods and stands carefully, testing her leg.
I stay close but don’t hover. She makes it to the bathroom on her own.
The door clicks shut behind her. I hear the water turn on a moment later.
I sit back down, trying not to picture her under the spray.
Naked. Wet. Soapy. The thought makes me hard again.
I shift in the chair and force my mind elsewhere.
She’s hurt. She’s scared. She needs time. I won’t push. I will not take.
But God, I want her.
I want to walk in there, press her against the tile, and show her exactly how much I want her.
I want to drop to my knees and taste her while the water runs down her body.
I want to hear her moan my name. I want to make her come until she forgets every bad thing that ever happened to her.
I want to claim her. Keep her. Make her mine in every way.
I grip the arms of the chair and breathe through it. Control. I’ve always had control.
The water shuts off. I hear her moving around. A few minutes later the door opens. She steps out in my shirt, the hem hitting her mid-thigh. Her hair is damp and curling at the ends. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat. She looks soft and vulnerable and so fucking beautiful it hurts.
“Thank you,” she says again, smiling shyly. “I feel human again.”
I nod, not trusting my voice right away. “Good. You hungry?”
She nods. I make her more soup and sit with her while she eats.
She asks more questions. About the compound.
About the people here. About me. I answer what I can.
I tell her about the military. About coming to Haven 7.
About the men who became my brothers. She listens like every word matters.
Like she’s trying to decide if this place is real.
When she finishes eating, she looks at me with those big brown eyes. “I need to find my brother, Wyatt. I can’t stay here forever. He’s out there somewhere. Scared. Maybe hurt. I have to keep looking.”
I lean forward. “We will help you look. But you’re not doing it alone. Not anymore.”
She searches my face. I see the war in her eyes. The need to trust fighting with the fear of trusting the wrong person again. I want her to choose me. I want her to stay. I want her to let me protect her.
She doesn’t say yes. Not yet. But she doesn’t say no either.
I’ll take that for now.
I’ll take anything she gives me.
Because Junie Bellis walked out of the snow and straight into my life, and I’m already gone for her.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
And I’ll burn down anything that tries to take her away from me.