Chapter Twenty-Two #2
She hated that more than anything. It meant he was scared too.
From inside the SUV, the world fractured into noise and motion.
The gunshot had cracked so loudly it felt as if it had hit her body instead of her ears.
She’d seen Leo stagger, and then Anja had slammed into him.
Bodies scattered, and she heard someone scream in a pitch that scraped straight down Chloe’s spine.
“Leo,” she whispered, already fumbling for the seat belt latch, panic clawing up her throat. He was her anchor. She knew Kayne wanted her safe, but the word felt obscene while Leo was flat on the pavement and she was trapped behind glass, reduced to watching.
She pressed her palms against the window, breath coming too fast, vision tunneling. She could see him now. He was alive and sitting up, but that didn’t stop the terror from roaring through her veins.
Her gaze frantically searched for Kayne, needed to see that he was okay too. He’d taken off to see to the injured, and she spotted him helping someone on the ground. The absence of his body beside her was immediate and terrifying.
Only then had Chloe realized she was shaking hard enough to rattle the door.
She forced herself to breathe and call 911. After she disconnected, her fingers brushed the edge of the Kevlar vest beneath her coat. It was unfamiliar, something she still resented on principle. She’d argued about it that morning, rolled her eyes, and made a joke about turning into a walking tank.
Kayne hadn’t smiled.
The memory hit her now with brutal clarity, and her hand twisted into the fabric as if it were a lifeline.
Thank God. Thank God he’d insisted.
Because this wasn’t threats anymore. This wasn’t notes or photos or intimidation meant to scare her into compliance.
Someone had fired a real gun at her family in public and decided fear wasn’t enough.
They had crossed a line she couldn’t uncross with optimism or denial or pretending everything would be fine if she just kept moving forward.
Her stomach rolled as police flooded the scene authoritatively.
The threat was over, so she opened her door so she could see Leo better, but she stayed inside as Kayne had insisted.
She watched them speak to Anja, Leo, and the witnesses who looked stunned and furious.
Yeah, get in line. She watched Kayne kneel in someone else’s blood, hands steady, voice calm, anchoring the chaos while her heart quietly fractured in her chest.
He was doing exactly what he’d promised: protecting everyone. Even if it meant she had to watch from behind bulletproof glass.
This was because of her.
That thought landed heavily and coldly.
She hugged herself tighter. The vest dug into her ribs, and for the first time since this nightmare began, she didn’t try to push the fear away. She let it sit.
Someone had upped the game and Chloe knew with bone-deep certainty that whatever came next wouldn’t be a warning. It would be meant to finish the job.
#
Kayne scrubbed his hands together, the water from the bottle already pink, then darker, then useless. Blood never really came off. It just thinned and spread. You could wash the evidence away, but not the weight.
He capped the bottle and flexed his fingers, forcing them steady even as the ambulance doors slammed shut and peeled away, the siren wailing like an accusation.
The man inside had lost a terrifying amount of blood.
Kayne had done everything right, from pressure to positioning to timing, but he’d learned a long time ago that right didn’t guarantee enough.
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
Hang on, he thought, not sure who the message was for.
Behind him, police radios crackled. Shoes scuffed the pavement. The street buzzed with that brittle, post-violence energy: people talking too loudly, laughing too hard, trying to prove they were still alive.
Shock had a sound. This was it.
Kayne didn’t turn around yet because he knew the stolen Range Rover wasn’t about theft or even Leo. Hell, it barely even mattered whether the shooter had missed or not.
It was a lure. A clean one, too. The goal was to strand Leo, worry Chloe, and get her exposed.
His molars clenched as the realization locked into place with brutal clarity. They’d wanted Chloe out of the vehicle. Out in the open and distracted, rushing to Leo as she always did—heart first, consequences later.
And he’d stopped it.
Barely.
Kayne finally turned, his gaze snapping straight to the SUV. It was bulletproof and reinforced. Chloe was safe in there. She sat rigid in the passenger seat, arms wrapped tight around herself, eyes fixed on the scene. Her Kevlar vest was visible now beneath her coat.
A phantom weight made it hard to breathe.
Thank God.
The image of what could have happened tried to surface—Chloe stepping out, calling Leo’s name, confusion stealing a half-second she didn’t have—but he crushed it before it could root.
There was no armor for her head. No margin for error. He shoved the thought down before it could fully form, but it left a tremor behind that no amount of training could smooth out.
He’d protected principals before and high-value assets. People whose lives came with contracts and clauses. This wasn’t that.
This was personal.
He crossed back to the SUV, movements controlled, a predatory calm riding a surge of fury he didn’t dare let loose yet. He crouched slightly so Chloe could see his face clearly through the open door.
“You okay, cher?” he asked softly.
She nodded, but it was the brittle kind that meant I’m functioning, not I’m fine.
“They shot someone,” she whispered. “Kayne, they really shot someone.”
“I know.” He had the dried blood under his nails to prove it. His voice stayed steady for her sake, even as his pulse thundered. “You did exactly right. Stayed put.”
Her eyes flicked past him, following the path of the ambulance. “Is he going to live?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He never lied about things like that. “He lost a lot of blood.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, guilt already creeping in where it didn’t belong. He saw it start and hated the bastard for that too.
Kayne straightened slowly, scanning the street again. There was no sign of the shooter or the weapon, only echoes.
Whoever was hunting Chloe had moved from fear to force, from shadows to bullets. And Kayne felt something old and dangerous coalesce: resolve.
His fear for Chloe wasn’t fading. It was intensifying.
The next time the bastard tried to use her heart against her, Kayne would be ready, because this was no longer about prevention. It was about ending it before someone else bled out on the concrete.
#
Chloe watched Kayne while he spoke to Leo. This was the look she’d learned to recognize: the one he wore when decisions had already been made and the world simply hadn’t caught up yet.
“This isn’t optional,” Kayne said, voice calm but absolute. “You’re coming to the safe house. Tonight.”
Leo scoffed weakly. “Kayne.”
“Leo,” Kayne cut him off without raising his voice. “They used you to draw her out.”
Chloe felt the truth of it settle heavily. It wasn’t an accusation, just fact. The most dangerous kind.
Kayne didn’t look at her when he said it. That almost undid her more than if he had. He was standing squarely in front of Leo, shoulders broad, hands loose at his sides, posture deceptively relaxed. Kayne was a man who could dismantle a room without ever appearing to move fast.
“You don’t get to argue with me about this,” he continued. “You’re moving into the safe house, traveling in our bulletproof vehicles, and wearing a Kevlar vest. No exceptions.”
Leo glanced at Chloe then, something apologetic flickering in his eyes. “Chloe.”
“I’m fine with it,” she said immediately. “Please.”
Because if Leo had been killed, if she’d lost him after already losing so much, she wasn’t sure there was a version of herself that came back from that.
Kayne finally turned toward her, and his gaze softened the instant it landed on her. He crossed the distance between them in three steps and lowered his voice, the way he did when the world got too loud.
“This isn’t about control, Chloe,” he said gently. “It’s about keeping your people breathing.”
Your people.
Not assets. Not liabilities. Not collateral. Family.
Her heart swelled so fast it almost hurt.
She nodded because words were suddenly unreliable things. Kayne had been protecting her since the moment he walked into her life, but this was different. He wasn’t just worried about her anymore. He was widening the circle and drawing lines around everyone she loved, daring the world to cross them.
She loved him. With all her heart.
Kayne glanced between her and Leo once more, then nodded decisively. “We move now.”
Anja was already on her phone, efficient and composed, setting things in motion. Leo rubbed a hand over his face, resigned but pale. Chloe recognized how shaken he was.
She reached for him, squeezing his arm. “This doesn’t make you weak,” she murmured, parroting the words Kayne constantly preached to her. “It makes you alive.”
His mouth twitched. “You always did know how to put things.”
“I bill hourly for emotional support,” she added, because someone had to keep the world from collapsing entirely.
Kayne opened the SUV door for her, one hand braced protectively above the frame as she slid in. The Kevlar vest pressed against her ribs again, no longer foreign or uncomfortable, just reassuring.
Before he shut the door, he leaned in, voice low enough that only she could hear.
“I won’t let anything happen to him,” he said. “Or you.”
Something in her cracked open. “I know,” she whispered.
And she did.