Chapter Thirty-Four
“Chloe.”
Her name pulled her out of the half-sleep she’d been drifting in, curved awkwardly in the chair beside the bed. She was on her feet instantly, heart in her throat.
“I’m here,” she said, squeezing Kayne’s hand reassuringly. “I’m right here.”
His eyes found hers, still a little glassy and drug-soft, but focused. Relief flooded his face, and then, impossibly, he smiled. “There you are,” he murmured lazily.
She laughed softly, the sound breaking around the emotion clogging her throat. “You called. I answered.”
His fingers tightened around hers, weak but determined.
“Do you know why he did it?”
Chloe swallowed. “He was one of the trafficked children.”
“Damn,” Kayne murmured.
The door opened quietly, and Anja stepped in, her presence calm and steady as ever. She gave Kayne a brief nod, then looked at Chloe.
“They found Aiden’s journal,” she said.
Chloe stiffened but didn’t pull away from Kayne.
Anja’s voice was careful and factual as she delivered hard truths without sensationalizing them. “He was kidnapped young, younger than most of the others, and he was held longer. Years.” A pause. “Donald and Pam Scoggins directly abused him.”
Chloe closed her eyes as the familiar sickness rolled through her.
“He lived under the gym,” Anja went on. “But he stayed in the room upstairs with a view of the floor. The mirror was actually a hidden door that let him come and go as he pleased when he wasn’t using the tunnel entry.
After the trafficking ring was shut down, after they were arrested, he stayed.
When you bought it, Chloe,” she softened her voice a fraction, “he transferred everything he felt about them onto you.”
Chloe opened her eyes.
“You became the stand-in, the symbol,” Anja said. “He felt like you were taking the building from him. Plus, you had success, the life he never had. He took the job with Sandy to learn about your schedules and habits. It gave him access.”
“You didn’t steal anythin’,” Kayne murmured, low and fierce. “He was already broken long before you ever walked through that door.”
Chloe nodded slowly, even as her heart ached with the impossible weight of grief layered with guilt.
“I ran him,” Kayne said. “Multiple times. Every database we have. Aiden Kerr didn’t exist anywhere that mattered. No kidnapping report. No missing persons. Nothing that explained how deep this went.”
Anja nodded once. “That’s because Aiden Kerr wasn’t his real name.”
Kayne’s hand tightened instinctively around hers.
“His name is Shawn Pratt,” Anja said. “The medical examiner ran his prints. He got a hit in NamUS, that’s the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System.”
Chloe went still. “Then who was Aiden Kerr?”
“A real boy,” Anja answered. “Adopted out of an orphanage by friends of Donald and Pam Scoggins. On paper, it was clean. A private adoption. No one knows what happened to him. Shawn was given his identity after he was kidnapped.”
The implication hung there, heavy and unspoken.
Chloe swallowed hard. “Aiden . . . I mean, Shawn. What about his birth family?”
“They were located,” Anja replied. “They’d never stopped looking. They claimed his body this morning. He’ll be buried properly.”
A quiet, heavy stillness settled over the room.
“Thank you,” Chloe said finally.
Anja gave a small nod. “Get some rest. Both of you.” Then she slipped out, leaving the door gently closed behind her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Chloe felt Kayne’s grip tighten again, more urgent this time. She looked at him and saw the worry there, raw and unguarded.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he said quietly.
Her breath caught, and she leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to.”
His gaze searched her face. “This,” he gestured weakly between them, “almost losing you? Worst moment of my life.”
She bent and pressed her forehead to his, careful of the wires, the monitors, and the reality pressing in around them. “You didn’t lose me,” she whispered. “I’m still here.”
His eyes closed, just for a second. “Good,” he said. “Because I don’t think I’m built to survive that again.”
Her heart squeezed. Neither was she.
This time, when silence fell, it felt less like fear and more like a promise.
#
Kayne had always loved the work. He loved the clarity of it, the clean lines between threat and safety, and the way chaos sharpened his focus instead of dulling it.
He loved CObrA Securities, the unspoken trust, the knowledge that if everything went sideways, the people beside him would move without hesitation, as Anja had in the basement.
CObrA Securities wasn’t just a job. It was his family.
The one he’d chosen. The one that had chosen him back.
The work had purpose. It mattered. It saved lives.
And until Chloe, he’d never questioned whether it would always be enough.
He turned his head slightly, careful of the ache that still pulsed through his abdomen, and looked at her sitting there beside him. Her hair had been pulled back hastily. Her beautiful blue eyes were still rimmed red, and her hand was wrapped tightly around his.
His heart squeezed.
“I’ve been thinkin’,” he said quietly.
Her brows lifted, wary and curious. “That sounds dangerous.”
He huffed a soft breath. “Usually is.”
He shifted his grip, threading his fingers more securely through hers. “I love my job and the people I work with. CObrA Securities is my family. They gave me a place where I fit. Where I was good at somethin’ that mattered.”
She listened without interrupting, her thumb brushing slowly over his knuckles.
“But I’d give it up,” he said simply. “Every bit of it.”
Her breath caught. “Kayne.”
“I’m not sayin’ it lightly,” he went on, voice steady, even as his heart kicked hard. “I know what walkin’ away means. I know who I’d be leavin’.” He swallowed once, then went on. “But I also know this.” He lifted their joined hands slightly. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
Her eyes shone, unshed tears gathering again.
“I love you,” he said, the words landing with quiet certainty. “Not the adrenaline-filled version from the last few days. Not the temporary, crosshairs kind. The real one. The stay and build-a-life kind. The wake up next to you when things are boring and hard and beautiful anyway.”
Chloe’s lips trembled.
“I want to spend my life with you,” he continued. “And if that means walkin’ away from CObrA Securities, then I’ll do it. I’ll help you run the gym. I’ll stand at the door and make sure no one ever hurts you again. I’ll spot clients, fix equipment, sweep floors if that’s what it takes.”
A soft, disbelieving laugh slipped out of her, wet and shaky. “You? Sweeping floors?” she teased gently.
“I’m excellent with a broom,” he said solemnly. “Highly underrated skill.”
She leaned in, careful of his IVs and bandages, and cupped his face. “You don’t have to give up who you are for me.”
He met her gaze, unwavering. “I’m not.” The beat that followed felt deliberate. “I’m choosin’ who I become.”
Emotion flooded her face, raw and open and everything he’d nearly lost.
He squeezed her hand again, reveling in the fact that she was alive and here. Real.
“I don’t want a life that doesn’t include you,” he said quietly. “So if you’ll have me—whole, flawed, and occasionally reckless—I’m yours.”
Her answer came without hesitation.
It didn’t need words. It never had.
#
Chloe’s heart felt too full for her chest. Kayne’s words settled over her slowly, warm and steady, seeping into places she hadn’t realized were still braced for loss.
The fact that he would even consider walking away from a job he loved for her left her a little breathless.
CObrA Securities was not only his purpose, but his family.
Emotion thickened her voice. “Kayne, that means more to me than I can say.”
He searched her face, waiting. Worried.
“But,” she added gently, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
His brow furrowed, and a flicker of panic crossed his features, but he nodded. “Okay.”
She drew a slow breath, choosing honesty over fear. “I’ve already decided to sell the gym.”
The words hung between them.
“There is no way I can stay there,” she continued quietly.
“I didn’t know it was the epicenter of what Donald and Pam were doing, but knowing it now .
. . I can’t walk into that building every day.
It’s forever, irrevocably tainted. I can’t build a future on top of something where so many kids were hurt.
It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know then. My body knows now.”
Kayne didn’t interrupt or argue. He simply listened.
“I loved that place because I thought it was a community,” she said. “Because I thought it was sweat and laughter. Now every room feels haunted.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t want anything to do with it.”
He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“I don’t need a physical gym,” she went on. “I can shoot videos anywhere. My clothing line and website can be run from afar. I’ve already been doing half of it remotely.” She gave a small, sad smile. “Turns out all I really need is space, internet, and a little peace.”
His expression eased. Relief, maybe, mixed with something thoughtful.
“There’s something else,” he said, “about the marketing side of your business.”
She tilted her head. “What about it?”
He shifted slightly against the pillows.
“Three of the wives of guys I work with run a company called TKO Productions. They’re sharp as hell.
Built it from the ground up. They’re a production company, but they’ve expanded into branding, campaigns, logistics—the whole operation.
” A corner of his mouth lifted. “They’re scary competent. ”
Chloe blinked. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack,” he said. “I already asked, and they could take over your website, social media, and marketing tomorrow and improve it by the end of the week.”
She laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders loosening for the first time since she’d said the word sell. “That actually sounds amazing.”
“There’s more,” he added, watching her carefully. “They’re based near the CObrA Securities compound.”
Her heart skipped. “Near where you live.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not sayin’ anything has to happen fast. Just,” he hesitated, vulnerability flickering across his face, “I’d like you to come see it. See if you could picture a life there. With me.”
Chloe felt something exciting and joyous settle into place. “I’ll visit,” she said softly. “I can do that.”
His smile was slow, relieved, a little awed. “That’s all I’m askin’.”
She leaned in and kissed him, her heart no longer racing with fear but humming with cautious hope.
#