Chapter 19
MIA
The tension in the house is suffocating.
I sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing my temples as exhaustion settles deep in my bones. The safehouse might be miles from civilization, but it doesn’t feel safe. Not really. Not when the men protecting me—protecting my daughters—are unraveling at the seams.
I don’t know when I became the fault line cracking them apart. But I can feel it. In the way Asher barely looks at me, in the way Zane keeps a distance even after what happened between us, in the way Damon watches but doesn't step in.
They've worked together for years. Had each other’s backs in situations worse than this. And now they're falling apart because of me?
It doesn't seem right.
I exhale, staring out the window at the lake. The water is still, untouched, mirroring the sky in an eerie, perfect reflection.
I wish things could go back to the way they were before. Before I kissed Asher. Before Zane touched me like he wanted more than just a job. Before Damon reminded me of everything we never had the chance to be.
I should have been smarter. More careful. Instead, I let my emotions get the best of me, and now the men who were supposed to be my protectors—the men I care about—are at each other's throats.
A door slams somewhere in the house. Footsteps stomp heavy against the wooden floor. My stomach tightens.
I can’t let this continue. I have to fix it.
For them. For the twins. For myself.
Before the fractures between them become too deep to mend.
I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at nothing, my thoughts circling like vultures.
The house feels empty despite being full.
The walls press in, heavy with everything unspoken.
I should be checking on the girls, should be helping reinforce the security measures.
Should be doing anything but drowning in the realization that I’ve messed everything up.
But I can’t seem to move.
Not until I drift toward the security room, needing something—answers, clarity, distraction, I don’t know. The monitors flicker, the quiet hum of the equipment filling the silence, but my gaze catches on the stack of papers left on the desk.
Curious, I reach for them, flipping the top page over. Asher’s name stares back at me in crisp, signed ink.
I blink. Read it again.
“Contract finalized. Deployment date confirmed.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. I knew he was leaving. He told me. But seeing it there, in black and white, is something else entirely. He’s not just leaving. Already gone in every way that matters.
The realization shreds through me, unexpected and brutal.
I sit down hard in the chair, gripping the papers like they might crumble between my fingers.
He was never going to stay. Not for me. Not for the girls. Not for whatever fragile, tangled mess we started.
A sharp, hollow ache settles in my chest. I should have known better. Should have never let myself hope, even for a second, that this—whatever this is—could last.
I swipe at my eyes, furious at the sting there. This is my fault. I let this happen. I let myself get attached. Let myself think that maybe, just maybe, I could have something beyond survival.
Stupid.
I inhale sharply, shoving the contract back onto the desk like it’s burned me.
I sit cross-legged on the twins' bedroom floor, their stuffed animals scattered around me. My fingers move automatically, checking seams, pressing into soft, fabric-covered bellies. I tell myself I’m just being careful, but deep down, I know the truth.
I need an excuse to leave. Because leaving is easier than staying.
I pick up Emma’s bunny, the one she drags everywhere and can’t sleep without. I turn it over in my hands, feeling for anything foreign under the stitching. There’s nothing. Of course, there’s nothing. I don’t stop.
I’ve done this before. I know what it takes to disappear.
It’s the only way to keep them safe.
I swallow hard, glancing at the door like someone might be listening.
But I know better. They’re not paying attention to me anymore.
Asher has already checked out—one foot out the door, contract signed, plane ticket practically in hand.
Zane can’t even look at me after last night, like touching me was some kind of mistake.
And Damon… Damon has been distant ever since I told him the truth.
Maybe he already knows what I’m planning. Maybe he won’t stop me.
I should be relieved. Instead, it feels like my chest is caving in.
I press my forehead against my knees, gripping the stupid stuffed bunny so tight, my fingers ache. I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t care this much. But the past few weeks have felt like something real, like maybe—just maybe—I didn’t have to do this alone anymore.
Stupid. I was stupid to think this could ever work.
Men like them? They don’t stay. Not for someone like me.
Asher is proving that right now, running halfway across the world just to get away from whatever this is between us.
I only have three days left before his week is up.
Damon is drowning himself in work, pretending there isn’t a part of him that belongs to Emma and Ella just as much as it does to me.
And Zane… Zane won’t even let himself feel whatever he’s feeling. He’d rather pull away than face it.
And maybe I deserve that.
I should’ve never let myself believe this could be anything more than what it is: temporary.
I force myself to breathe, to think. If I leave with the girls now while they’re distracted, I can be gone by morning. I know how to do this. I know how to disappear. I did it when I left Jason. I did it when I started over. I can do it again.
I have to.
Before the girls get too attached.
Before I get too attached.
Before I make the mistake of thinking these men would fight for us.
I blink away tears and push to my feet, my movements mechanical as I pull the girls’ small suitcases from the closet. I tell myself I’m just preparing. That I haven’t actually made the decision yet.
But deep down, I know. I’ve already made up my mind.
Emma and Ella shuffle into the room, their small feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. I freeze, my hands tightening around the zipper of one of their tiny suitcases.
“What are you doing here, Mom?” Emma asks, her sleepy eyes blinking at the half-packed bag beside me.
I try to smile, though my face feels like it might crack under the weight of it.
“Come here, baby.” I reach for them, pulling them both onto my lap, pressing my cheek against their soft hair.
Their warmth seeps into me, making it harder to breathe.
Harder to follow through with what I know I have to do.
“We need to go, sweetie,” I whisper. “Time for another adventure.”
Ella snuggles closer, but Emma stiffens. “Leaving the secret agents?” she asks, her voice small, uncertain. Her lower lip trembles, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.
“Yes, baby,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I stroke her hair, trying to soothe her even as I can feel her tiny fingers curling into my shirt, clinging to me like she can keep us here if she just holds on tight enough.
Ella’s arms wrap around my waist, her face pressing into my chest. “But I like them,” she murmurs, and fresh guilt twists inside me. “Damon. Asher. Zane. They’re friends now.”
“I know, baby,” I say, closing my eyes for a second, trying to find the strength I need. “I know it’s hard, but sometimes we have to do hard things to stay safe.”
Their sobs start, tearing at me, their small bodies trembling against mine. I hold them tighter, kissing the tops of their heads, breathing them in. I leave them in their bedroom, reassuring them that we’ll depart tomorrow and to get good sleep tonight.
I can’t do this. But I have to do this.
In my room, I force my hands to move, zipping up the bags, each sound cutting through me like a knife. My girls need me to be strong, to protect them, to do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
Even if it means breaking all of our hearts.
The zipper stutters as I pull it closed, like even my suitcase knows this is a mistake. My hands won’t stop shaking, but I keep going. One more shirt shoved inside. One last breath before I go.
“—and Asher’s taking first shift, so we’ll—”
Damon’s voice cuts off. I freeze, my back still to him. I don’t have to look to know what he sees.
Silence stretches between us before he finally speaks, his voice tight. “What’s going on?”
I swallow hard. “Do you know Asher’s leaving?”
A beat of silence. “He hasn’t told me yet.”
I nod. Of course he hasn’t. I press my fingers to my eyes, willing the sting away. “Maybe it’s better if I leave, too.”
Damon moves closer. I hear it before I feel it—the quiet shift of his boots against the floorboards. He stops just behind me, close enough that his warmth seeps into my spine. “Mia,” he says quietly.
“I don’t want things to get any worse.” My voice is thin, stretched tight like a wire about to snap. “I should have shut this down the moment I knew it was you.”
There’s a sharp exhale, then his fingers brush my elbow, the lightest touch, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away.
“Don’t do that,” he murmurs.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t do what? Face reality?”
I turn then, and his expression knocks the air from my lungs. There’s frustration, guilt, and something deeper I don’t want to name.
“Look around, Damon.” I gesture vaguely, my hands unsteady. “Asher’s leaving. Zane barely looks at me. And you…”
His jaw tightens. “What about me?”
My throat works, but no sound comes out. Because what about him? What about the way he looks at me when he thinks I don’t notice? What about the way his presence steadies me, even when I don’t want it to? What about the way my body still remembers every inch of his from six years ago?
I shake my head, breaking whatever spell we’re caught in. “It doesn’t matter.”
But Damon’s eyes say otherwise. It matters. It always has.