Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
E verything Gemma ate that morning threatened to claw its way back up the moment Case mentioned trust.
The word alone was a trigger.
He sat beside her at the small kitchen table, his large hand warm and calloused as it wrapped around hers, grounding her—but also terrifying her. Because comfort was dangerous. Comfort led to lowered walls. And lowered walls led to vulnerability.
“Gemma,” he said softly, “you have to trust someone. Trust me.”
She laughed—a broken, bitter sound that scraped up from somewhere deep and raw. “Trust?” Her lips twisted. “That’s what got me into this mess in the first place. Trusting people. Letting my guard down. Every time I have, it’s come back to bite me in the ass.”
She took a sip of her coffee, the heat soothing her throat but not the knot in her stomach. Her hands trembled slightly, and Case didn’t let go of her fingers.
She stared into the swirling black liquid before she found the courage to speak. “His name is Darren Mitchell. We… went on a few dates back in Boston. It was nothing serious—not to me, anyway. But to him? It was something else entirely. He became clingy, obsessive, possessive. Calling me constantly, demanding to know where I was, who I was with, what I was doing.”
Case’s jaw ticked, his expression darkening. “Tell me you dumped him.”
“I did,” she whispered. “But we’d only gone out a few times. There was nothing to break off. Still, I told him I wasn’t interested. And that’s when everything spiraled. He started calling my work, harassing my boss and coworkers until they eventually let me go. He’d show up on dates, create scenes. I’d report it, but the police never took it seriously. They saw me as some crazy woman who couldn’t handle rejection. Said there wasn’t enough proof, even when I had voicemails, texts… A couple of times, I managed to get temporary restraining orders, but they always expired. And Darren? He knew exactly how to skirt the law.”
Case stood abruptly, his chair scraping back on the wood floor as he began pacing, anger simmering in every taut line of his body.
“Did he ever hurt you?” His voice was tight, as though he already knew the answer and was bracing for it.
She shook her head. “Not directly. He never laid a hand on me. Not yet, at least. But he didn’t have to. It was the constant presence—showing up at my apartment. Leaving things at my door. Notes. Gifts. Always watching. I knew it was him, even when I couldn’t prove it. My mom had passed away the year before, and my dad’s been out of the picture for most of my life, so I had no reason to stay. I left Boston. Told no one where I was going.”
Her voice faltered. “I thought I was safe. Until he showed up again.”
She looked down, her voice cracking. “Rinse and repeat.”
Case slowed, turning back toward her, his eyes locked on hers. She could feel the heat of his rage simmering under the surface. But it wasn’t directed at her. Not like before—not like Darren.
“How many times, Gemma?” he asked quietly.
“Too many.” Her eyes burned. “I’ve been on the run for over two years. Changing names. Jobs. States. I don’t even unpack anymore. Just in case.”
A soft whine sounded at her side. Caesar had padded over and now laid his massive head gently in her lap, like he knew her soul was splintering. She stroked his soft ears, her fingers grateful for something warm and real. She buried her hands in his thick fur, breathing in the quiet strength of the animal, letting it soothe her enough to continue.
“I thought I was safe here,” she whispered. “For the first time in a long time, I started to relax. But the past couple of weeks… I’ve felt like I’m being watched again. Then yesterday…” Her voice caught. “Someone shot at me on the mountain.”
Case stilled. “What?”
She met his gaze, voice shaking. “I don’t think they meant to hit me—at least not yet. The shots hit the dirt around me. They were close. Close enough to scare the hell out of me.”
He dragged his chair closer, eyes locked on her. “It takes precision to shoot like that. What kind of background does this Darren guy have? Military? Law enforcement?”
Her heart sank. That tone. That edge of doubt. “No,” she said quickly, defensively. “He was just an IT guy. Freelance. Worked from home, kept his own schedule. That’s why he was always able to find me, to follow me.”
Case didn’t respond immediately. He leaned back, jaw grinding. “He’d need training to shoot like that. Someone taught him. Jake might be able to find something.”
“Jake?”
“One of my brothers,” Case said. “He’s our tech guy. If there’s dirt on this bastard, he’ll find it.”
Before she could say anything, Case pulled her into his arms, settling her on his lap like she weighed nothing. The moment she was against him, surrounded by the heat of his chest and the strength of his arms, something inside her cracked wide open. She curled into him, clinging like he was the only solid thing in her world.
“You’re not alone anymore,” he murmured into her hair. “We’re going to handle this. You’re not running. Not again. You’re mine, Gemma. No one lays a hand on what’s mine.”
His words should have terrified her.
They didn’t.
Because with Case, his possessiveness didn’t come with chains. It came with shields. With safety. With warmth. For the first time in years, she believed someone could protect her and not trap her.
“I’m yours?” she asked quietly, her voice trembling.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I believe you, Gemma. I saw it in your eyes yesterday—pure fear. That wasn’t imagined. And now your car’s been destroyed. Someone is hunting you, and it ends here. You have me. You have Ty. You’ll have Jake. No more running. Just trust me.”
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She nodded, pressing her face against his neck. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I trust you.”
The front door opened then, the creak loud in the quiet of the cabin. Ty stepped aside with Sheriff Nathan Holt stepped in behind him, his badge glinting in the morning light. And just like that, the illusion of peace shattered.
Sheriff Nathan Holt’s voice rang out. “I hear we have a situation.”
But this time, she didn’t flinch.
Because Case had his arms around her, and for the first time in years, she wasn’t facing the danger alone.
C ase stood at Gemma’s side while she repeated her story for Nathan, every word another twist of the knife in his gut.
He kept his arms loose at his sides, fists clenched tight enough that his knuckles cracked with the effort to stay still. Her voice shook, but she didn’t shy away from the truth. Not this time. He heard the trauma layered between the lines—the helplessness, the rage, the years of being ignored and doubted—and it made his blood boil.
It was all he could do not to punch a hole through the damn wall every time she said something that revealed how deeply she'd been failed by everyone around her.
When she faltered, Case tightened his grip on the back of her chair, grounding himself in the feel of the wood, reminding himself to be calm—for her. Across the room, Ty caught his eye and gave him a slow, knowing nod, the kind that said we’ve got you. Just like they had for Sarah Woodruff back in the day. Back when their Sarge brought a broken woman into their circle and they all circled up, no questions asked. Gemma had that same lost, desperate look.
And he’d be damned if anyone touched her again.
Nathan began to describe her car, the damage, the destruction—and Gemma swayed like the words themselves had knocked the wind out of her. Case didn’t hesitate. He lifted her gently and sat down with her in his lap, wrapping his arms around her like a fortress. She curled into him instinctively, and he shot Nathan a warning glare sharp enough to slice.
Nathan, the bastard, smirked anyway. “So it’s like that? Will Gemma be staying here?”
She jerked upright in his arms. “Hell no. I have a job, an apartment. I can’t stay here.”
Case’s arms flexed around her, the idea of her going back to her apartment sending a cold spike of panic through him. “You’re not going anywhere. It’s not safe.”
“And you’re not in charge of me,” she snapped, her chin tilted in defiance.
Ty muffled a laugh behind his hand, because of course he did. Case glared at him, but Ty just gave him a wide, amused grin. Asshole.
He refocused on Gemma, brushing his thumb over the faint bruise on her neck—his mark. A physical reminder of the night they'd shared, of everything that had shifted between them.
“This mark says otherwise,” he said quietly, voice like gravel. “You’re mine.”
She stared at him, fierce and stubborn, her jaw tight enough to crack. Then she turned to Nathan. “I want to see my car.”
Nathan hesitated, clearly uncertain, then looked at Case like do something.
“Gemma, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Nathan tried again.
“It’s my car,” she said, sharp and unyielding. “I’m not going to be controlled by anyone ever again.”
Her words hit Case square in the chest.
He held her close for a beat longer, then loosened his arms. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Because that was the choice she needed. “I don’t want to control you,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “I want to protect you.”
She twisted in his lap, her eyes full of fire and something deeper—fear, pain, grief. “I need to do this. You need to understand that.”
And that hurt more than any bullet he’d ever taken.
Did she really think he was just another man trying to box her in? That he’d cage her like the monster she’d been running from?
“Fine,” he said, the word burning like acid. “We’ll go see your car.”
Nathan exhaled. “It’s at Travis’s Garage. I’ll drive you over.”
“I’ll take her,” Case said, his tone brooking no argument.
Ty stood, stretching and whistling for Caesar. “We’ll tag along. Safety in numbers and all that.”
The drive was silent, but not peaceful. Case’s hands were white-knuckled on the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every hundred yards, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking Nathan’s SUV and Ty’s truck. Watching for shadows. Strangers. Ghosts.
Gemma sat beside him, her body stiff, her arms crossed tight over her chest like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. He wanted to reach for her. Wanted to pull over, wrap her in his arms, and tell her she was safe now.
But she needed space.
He just didn’t know how to give it without dying a little inside.
At the garage, Travis met them with a grim expression, avoiding Gemma’s eyes. That was the first red flag. Then they rounded the corner.
The second Case saw the car, something in him snapped.
It wasn’t just destroyed. It was desecrated.
Every window shattered. Tires shredded. Paint gouged with crude, violent messages. Seats ripped open like flesh. Slurs, threats—meant for Gemma. Designed to terrify. Designed to punish.
Ty cursed behind them. Nathan went silent.
Case moved instinctively, stepping between her and the wreckage, but she slipped around him, her steps slow and deliberate. Her face was blank—too blank. That quiet, internal shutdown that came after too much trauma.
Nathan said something about not touching anything. It didn’t matter. Gemma wasn’t moving anymore. Just… staring.
Case’s rage built, slow and deadly, rising from the pit of his stomach like a firestorm. He wanted to hunt the bastard responsible. Wanted to put him in the ground and salt the earth. But there was no target. Not yet. And that helplessness—that was a special kind of torment.
“Gemma,” he said gently, reaching for her.
She flinched.
It was small. Subtle. But it gutted him.
“I want to go home,” she whispered.
“You can’t,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “He knows where you live.”
“I’m not staying on your mountain,” she bit out. “I’ve run enough. I won’t let him decide where I live or who I?—”
She cut herself off. But he heard the rest.
Who I love .
“I’ll stay with you in town,” he said quickly.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I need to think. Alone.”
Nathan stepped in, laying it out—patrols, favors, state police involvement. Ty added that Jake was already digging, following the digital trail.
Case wanted to argue. Beg. Command. He wanted to carry her back to the truck, take her to the most remote trail cabin and post guards outside. But the tension in her spine told him it would only make her run faster.
“At least let me drive you home,” he said, already preparing to sleep in his truck outside her building if he had to.
She nodded. A small concession. Not enough to ease the fear gnawing at his insides.
Ty offered Caesar for the night. Gemma laughed, a fragile sound, and agreed.
The ride back to her place was heavier than before. When they pulled in, Case cut the engine and got out without a word.
“I’m checking the apartment,” he said firmly. “Making sure it’s clear.”
She didn’t argue. That scared him more than anything.
Her building was small—three floors—but her apartment was on the first. Case’s gut clenched. First floor meant no elevation, no visibility. Easy access. A security nightmare.
She gave him a sheepish look. “It was the only unit available.”
He bit back a curse. “It’s fine. We’ll make it safe.”
He stopped her at the door and motioned for Caesar to go in first. The dog moved silently, thoroughly, every step methodical. They waited in silence until Caesar returned, tail wagging and nose nudging Gemma’s hand.
She smiled and wrapped her arms around the dog. “Thank you.”
Case swept inside, moving through her space with trained precision. It was dark. Blinds drawn. Curtains shut tight. Reinforced locks on the windows. An extra bar on the slider. A new deadbolt on the door. All things he recognized. All signs of a woman trying to protect herself with whatever tools she had.
“You’ve done good work,” he said gently. “But now you’ve got something you didn’t have before.”
She turned to him. Her eyes still held shadows, but they were softer now.
“What’s that?”
He smiled. “Me. And a town full of people watching your six.”
She bit her lip, her defenses cracking just a little. Caesar leaned into her, whining softly.
Case stepped back, giving her space. “I’ll be right here if you need me. Call, and I’ll come running.”
Her hand was already on the door. “Thank you… for understanding.”
He nodded, then looked at Caesar. “Protect.”
The dog sat tall and alert. Case could’ve sworn the damn thing nodded.
He kissed her cheek, quick and gentle, and stepped out. He didn’t leave until he heard the deadbolt click.
Back in his truck, he adjusted his seat and checked the apartment lights. When they flicked on, he finally relaxed—if barely.
His phone buzzed.
Ty: Jake’s on it. Might have something by morning. You good?
Case: Yeah. Watching her.
The truck wasn’t comfortable, but comfort was irrelevant.
He adjusted the rearview mirror to see her front door.
He might not be in her bed, or even inside her walls, but no one was getting past him tonight.
Not with his woman inside.