Chapter 16 #2
The easy, rough banter fills the space for a moment, a clear bond developed over years of shared danger, establishing Grim not as an outsider, but as part of our fucked-up ecosystem. Only then does his gaze settle fully on me, the humor receding slightly, replaced by professional focus. "Alright, Boss. What's got you looking like someone pissed in your whiskey?"
I cross my arms, my expression grim. "Lila's in danger. Her past caught up. Nikolai Mikhailov, her husband, found her. Sent her a taunting message—a bracelet. He hasn’t made a move yet, but he will. It’s only a matter of time."
Grim’s usual smirk falters slightly, his gaze hardening. "And you need me to make sure she stays breathing?"
I nod. "Exactly. She’s stubborn, doesn’t like feeling caged, but we don’t have a choice. When she leaves the property, I always want someone on her. Someone we trust."
Grim cracks his knuckles, the menace creeping back into his grin. "Alright. Sounds like my kind of job. I'll protect the little princess."
Ryker shakes his head, clearly entertained despite the situation. “Just don’t get yourself killed messing with her. She’s tougher than she lets on.”
Ethan sighs. “Can we at least try to make this easy on her?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Grim stretches like he’s settling in. “So, do I get to meet her now, or do I wait for my royal introduction?”
“She’s sleeping,” I say. “Let her rest.”
“Soft,” Grim mutters under his breath. Then louder, to no one in particular, “So, when do we start making this Kolya guy regret being born?”
I exhale, glancing at Ethan, who’s already typing away, and Ryker, who’s pacing like a caged animal.
“Soon,” I say. “Very soon.”
With the immediate security reinforcement addressed, the focus snaps back to the core threat. Ethan hasn’t stopped typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard, eyes locked on the screen. The soft glow of multiple monitors illuminates the grim set of his face as he digs deeper into Mikhailov's shadowed world. I settle back into a chair, nursing my drink, the ice long melted, watching fragmented data scroll past – a digital breadcrumb trail into darkness.
Alright," Ethan mutters, his voice tight. "Mikhailov’s got a longer shadow than initial reports suggested—arms deals, black-market trades, human trafficking whispers alongside the smuggling. No official government ties, but confirms powerful connections, deep reach. All of this we already know, he a big player in LA"
Ryker leans over Ethan’s shoulder, peering at the screen, his earlier fury now a cold, dangerous stillness. "Anything concrete linking him to us ? Beyond rumor?" He pauses, recognition hardening his features. "His name... it’s scratching at something. We know there were past conflicts, incidents where his operations were impacted by assets we were involved with, even indirectly."
Ethan frowns, running a complex search algorithm. Lines of code scroll rapidly, then halt. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Shit. Yeah. Found it. More direct than just impacted assets. Years ago, that high-profile extraction we did in Columbia. The intel indicate Nikolai Mikhailov provided untraceable logistical support to the opposition element we dismantled. He apparently lost millions, resources, and significant face when the target vanished and that part of his network collapsed."
A low curse escapes Ryker, teeth grinding. "Great. So, he already has significant beef with operations tied to us, and now he gets wind we , specifically, have the woman he tormented?"
Ethan nods grimly. "Looks that way. Which makes the timing of her escape leading her straight to us ..." He trails off, the implication hanging heavy – the dangerous, almost fated collision of it all.
My strategist’s brain, despite everything, registers the brutal synchronicity. Could it be…? But the flicker lasts less than a heartbeat, instantly extinguished by the raw, undeniable memory of Lila’s broken whispers, the terror etched onto her soul. To even consider her involved after witnessing that feels profane.
"No," I state immediately, my voice flat and absolute, cutting off any potential misinterpretation of Ethan’s observation or Ryker's rising tension. "Let's be clear. The timing is bad luck, nothing more. She’s not part of some scheme. What she endured was real. Her terror is real." My gaze locks with Ryker's, then Ethan's, conveying certainty. "She's a victim caught in his web, and now that web intersects with our past. That's the reality."
Ryker nods sharply, the protective tension easing slightly, accepting my immediate dismissal of any doubt. "Damn right."
Ethan sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Agreed. Wasn't suggesting she was involved, just... the level of complication this adds is insane."
"It means he has more reason than simple possession to come after her," I continue. "Once he connects the dots, realizes we are the ones shielding her... it becomes personal revenge layered onto his obsession. He won't just want her back; he'll want to destroy us for harboring her and for costing him years ago."
The confirmation of this past link, piled atop the raw horror of Lila’s testimony earlier tonight, creates a suffocating pressure. The image of her curled on the couch, recounting Kolya’s calculated cruelty, clashes violently with the cold, calculated danger Mikhailov represents.
A familiar weight settles deeper in my chest, constricting my breath. The intel, the past, Lila... it presses down. I lean back in my chair, the worn leather groaning softly.
Ethan and Ryker resume dissecting Kolya's network, potential allies, known weaknesses—their voices eventually fading to background static. My mind is elsewhere, drowning in memories I keep chained deep inside. Memories clawing their way relentlessly to the surface now.
My grip tightens around the whiskey glass again. Control . It’s all I have. But Lila... she chips away at it with every hesitant smile, every flicker of vulnerability, every nightmare I pull her back from. Watching Ryker walk out of the room with her… the feeling that ripped through me wasn't just protectiveness. It was raw, possessive jealousy mixed with a deeper, uglier companion. Guilt.
I clear my throat, the sound rough, cutting through their discussion. Both Ryker and Ethan turn towards me, their debate halting abruptly, waiting.
"We need to address something else," I state, keeping my voice level, measured, despite the turmoil inside. "Lila."
Ryker raises a brow, defensive posture settling back over him almost instantly. Ethan just watches me, his expression neutral, assessing.
"This situation," I continue, gesturing between the three of us, "is... unprecedented for us. We work together, we fight together, we bleed together. We don't... share women." The words feel awkward, clinical, but necessary. "It's clear you both have strong feelings for her." My gaze flicks to Ethan and then Ryker, acknowledging the protective shield they naturally formed around her, the moments of intimacy I've witnessed. "You've both acted on it."
Ryker doesn't flinch, meeting my gaze squarely. Ethan shifts slightly, looking uncomfortable but not disagreeing.
"I see how she's..." I struggle for the right word, settling on, "...integrating. Affecting us. You two especially." I pause, forcing myself to add the difficult part, the admission I've barely allowed myself. "And me. She affects me too."
The words stick in my throat, thick and heavy, feeling like a confession I shouldn’t make. But seeing the dynamic shift, seeing their connection with her deepen... it forces the conclusion. I finally force the next part out, the sound rough. "You two already have her. It’s right. I should step aside."
Ryker stiffens instantly, his head snapping towards me. "The fuck are you talking about?"
I exhale sharply, setting my drink down with more force than necessary, crystal clinking against the wood. My hands clench on the arms of the chair. "I don’t deserve her. Not after what happened to you, Ryker."
I press the heels of my hands against my temples, trying to push back the onslaught. It's useless. "Operation Nightfall. The decisions that led to you being captured and tortured when everything went to hell.”
My finger hovering over the map overlay, the tactical choice seeming logical based on the intel. Ignoring the tremor of doubt deep in my gut. The comms exploding with chaos exactly where I feared it might. "That was on me. My command. My failure." My voice is scraped raw.
"And when we finally got you back…”
The worst image surfaces: Finding him in that black hole. The stench of death and rot. Ryker barely conscious, impossibly thin, brutalized beyond recognition. Eyes… God, those hollow, vacant eyes staring not at me, but through me, like he was already gone. My throat constricts. "You were barely hanging on."
I shake my head, a futile gesture. "So yeah. I don’t deserve her." The words hang there, tasting like ash.
Ryker’s jaw tightens, his gaze burning into me. Before I can brace myself, he moves—closing the space between us. His hands grip my face, firm, surprisingly steady. I jerk back against the contact, every muscle tight.
"You think that’s your call to make?" His voice is rough with disbelief, but there’s understanding underneath—something I don't deserve. "You fucked up back then, yeah. Command fucked up. But you got me out. You didn’t leave me there." His words hit like blows. "None of us knew what we were walking into. The intel was shit. It was a setup from the start. You made the best calls you could with garbage intel."
My throat tightens. I shake my head, unable to meet his gaze. "That doesn’t change what happened to you."
"It wasn’t solely your fault," Ryker says, his voice softening slightly, pulling me further off balance. I force myself to look at him, searching for blame, finding only sincerity. "You carry that weight like it belongs only to you. It doesn’t. I made my own choices in that mess too. Yeah, I paid for it. But you brought me home and you helped me heal. That’s what matters."
He presses his forehead against mine, an intimacy that makes me want to recoil, yet I’m frozen. Something passes between us—forgiveness I haven't earned, absolution my mind refuses— my breath catches.
"Stop punishing yourself, Bas," he mutters, the command quiet but absolute. "It’s done. Let it go. I forgive you"
Let it go. As if it’s that simple. Ryker lets go of me as Ethan leans forward, his voice quieter but just as firm.
"And you think stepping aside makes things right? That’s bullshit." I look away sharply, focusing on my abandoned glass. "Lila needs you , Bastian, just as much as she needs us. Maybe more."
The mention of her name is a physical blow. I exhale harshly, dragging a hand down my face. "She doesn’t need a broken man."
Ryker lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Broken? Damn, Bastian, you don’t get it." He pulls back slightly but keeps his hands on my shoulders. "She’s been through hell. She’s scared, damaged, but strong as fucking nails underneath. And you—" he shakes his head, giving me a hard look that sees too much. "You ground her. She feels safe with you in a way she doesn’t with anyone else. You think she hasn’t already chosen you, in her own way? You’re blind if you can’t see it."
Ethan nods, his gaze steady. "You’re fighting so hard to push her away, but what if she needs you —your control, your steadiness, the safety you represent—the same way you seem to need her light?"
I drag in a shaky breath. I want to argue, to cling to the familiar burden of guilt—but the words won’t form. A small, traitorous part of me wants desperately to believe them. Wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, redemption isn’t impossible. That she isn't impossible.
Ethan breaks the heavy silence that follows, his gaze moving between Ryker and me, practical as ever. "Okay. So, if stepping aside isn't the answer... what is? Because Bas is right about one thing—this is unprecedented. How does this work? With Lila?"
Ryker crosses his arms again, leaning back against the desk, considering Ethan’s question. His aggression seems banked for the moment, replaced by thoughtfulness. "Look, I’m not sharing her like she’s some fucking prize. But she’s... ours. All of ours. In different ways, maybe, but she connects to each of us. Denying that seems stupid." He glances at me. "And trying to cut one of us out? Even stupider. Especially you, Bas. You're the anchor, for all of us."
I process this, the concept foreign, unsettling, yet somewhat logical given the circumstances. Three protectors, three different connections to one woman who needs safety, needs grounding, needs... us. "It's unconventional," I state, the master of understatement.
"Understatement of the fucking year," Ryker mutters.
Ethan nods slowly. "Unconventional, yeah. Maybe impossible. But... maybe not. We can figure it out. Together. For her." He looks directly at me. "If you're in. No more talk about stepping aside."
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m the only thing standing in my own way. The guilt is still there, a persistent burn, a shadow I’ll likely carry forever. But maybe... beneath the weight of it, a flicker of something else stirs. The idea of belonging—not just leading, but belonging with them, with her —is both terrifying and tempting. Maybe it doesn't have to consume everything.
I meet Ethan's gaze, then Ryker's. A silent agreement passes between us—not a solution, but a commitment. To her. To figuring it out. "Alright," I finally say, the single word feeling heavier than a vow. "We figure it out."
The rich scent of coffee cuts through the morning quiet. I lean against the counter, letting the heat from the mug seep into my cold hands. Ethan stands beside me, hair still mussed from the few hours of sleep we all got, sipping his own cup. The house is quiet.
Then, a sultry moan breaks the silence from down the hall, followed by a breathless gasp and the unmistakable thud of a headboard hitting the wall. Seconds later, comes a throaty laugh, deep and satisfied, followed by a string of curses from Ryker’s room.
Ethan raises his mug, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, that’s one way to wake up. Better than coffee."
I shake my head, a grin tugging at my lips despite myself. "Knowing Lila? Pretty sure she’d agree."
Ryker's room door swings open a few minutes later. Lila steps out, face flushed, hair a glorious mess. Ryker follows, looking far too smug, his arm slung possessively around her shoulders as they walk down the hall.
Ethan winks at her as they enter the kitchen. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Sounded like you had a hell of a night."
Lila groans, cheeks burning brighter as she playfully tries to shrug off Ryker's arm. "Kill me now."
Ryker just laughs, pulling her closer. "Nah, I think I’ll keep you around."
Before Ryker leans in to kiss her, Ethan smoothly intercepts, stepping forward. He cups Lila's face gently, tilting her chin up towards him. His eyes hold hers for a beat, a silent question answered by the slight softening in her expression. Then, he leans down and kisses her, right there in the middle of the kitchen, not a frantic claiming like Ryker's, but something possessive in its own right— deliberate, warm, and deeply affectionate.
Lila looks momentarily stunned when he pulls back, her eyes wide, lips slightly parted. A surprised blush creeps up her neck, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, her gaze flickers uncertainly between Ethan, Ryker (who's watching with an amused smirk), and me.
I shove the jealousy down, harder this time, a familiar acidic burn. This is what we agreed to. Figuring it out. Together. I force myself to focus on cracking eggs into the sizzling pan instead of dwelling on the way Ethan's thumb is still brushing her cheek, or the way I wish she looked at me. Fuck. Get a grip.
The mundane normalcy of making her breakfast is a welcome distraction. Lila slides into a seat at the counter, eyes flicking toward me, still looking a little dazed but settling into the stool Ethan pulls out for her. For a moment, everything else fades.
I set a plate piled high with eggs and bacon, alongside a fresh cup of coffee, in front of her. My fingers brush hers slightly as I place the mug down. "Eat." My voice is gruffer than intended.
She offers me a small, hesitant smile, the kind that always manages to bypass my defenses. Then, before I can pull back fully, she does something unexpected. Lila leans forward slightly on her stool, reaching out. Her hand rests briefly on my forearm, and she presses a quick, soft kiss to my cheek. Her lips are warm against my skin for just a fraction of a second before she retreats, her cheeks flushing again as she quickly looks down at her plate.
My breath catches. I stand frozen for a beat, the spot where her lips touched tingling, surprise warring with a sudden, sharp spike of possessive warmth. Damn if that small gesture doesn’t hit me harder than a physical blow, cracking something inside my carefully constructed walls.
Ryker, never letting a moment slide, clears his throat loudly, breaking the charged silence. He leans back in his chair, smirking at Ethan before turning his attention to me. "So, where’s mine, Chef Bastian? Or is this special treatment reserved for the lady?"
The moment is interrupted by heavy footsteps. The kitchen door swings open, and Grim's massive figure fills the doorway. His eyes scan the room—taking in Lila’s flushed face, Ethan standing close beside her, Ryker’s smug look, and my position at the stove—before settling back on Lila with a curious look.
I gesture toward him. "Lila, meet Grim. He’s going to be your bodyguard whenever you leave the house."
Her eyes widen, mouth opening—then slamming shut. She blinks, glancing between me and Grim, then back again, the recent kiss momentarily forgotten in the face of this new imposition. "Wait, what? No. Absolutely not. I don’t need a damn bodyguard. I’m not some helpless damsel."
I cross my arms, expecting this. "It’s not up for debate, Lila."
She throws her hands up, frustration clear. "This is insane! You can’t just assign someone to stalk me like I’m a prisoner. I go to work, I grab coffee—I try to exist like a normal person! Now I’ve got you three hovering, and you want to add another? I just got my freedom back, and now you’re taking it away again!"
Grim lets out a low chuckle, amused. "Listen, Princess, either you let me follow you, or I start carrying you everywhere. Your choice."
Lila groans, dropping her head onto the counter with a dramatic sigh. "I hate this already."
I watch her, amused despite the tension still simmering. She’s going to drive Grim insane. A part of me enjoys the thought.
Ryker smirks, entertained. "You’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. Either way, Grim’s not going anywhere."
Ethan chuckles, nudging my arm. "She’s going to make his life hell, isn’t she?"
I take a slow sip of my coffee, watching Lila grumble under her breath, arms crossed defiantly. She’ll fight this. She’ll make Grim work for it. And fuck, if I don’t enjoy watching her