Dalton
Hampton, Virginia
I don’t move until Kyler’s eyes finally leave mine.
Even then, it’s not relief that settles in. It’s tension of a different kind. The kind that coils low and tight because this isn’t over. Not even close.
His gaze lands on Ivy like she’s the only thing in the room that matters. There’s no mistaking it. Not with the way his shoulders settle into that rigid, overprotective stance I’ve seen in a dozen operators before. But with Kyler, it’s personal.
“You and Hadley need to come with me,” he says, quiet but firm.
Ivy stiffens beside Alinna. “What?”
“I said, I want you with me. You and Hadley. I’ll take you home so you can pack a bag while I handle transport.” This time when he speaks, his voice is gentle.
“No.” She doesn’t even blink.
Kyler’s jaw tightens. “Ivy.”
“I said no.” Her voice doesn’t rise, but the weight behind it changes. “You don’t make decisions for me anymore.”
His gaze cuts through the room like a wire stretched too tight. “It’s not safe. I will make decisions for my family when it comes to your safety.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” she says, voice trembling just enough for me to catch it.
“You fucking are, Ivy,” he snaps, then looks around, as if remembering they’re not alone. “You’re my wife—”
I flinch. Nothing makes you feel shitter than flirting with a woman only to hear the word wife tossed around minutes later.
“I’m not your wife.” Ivy’s words slice clean. “You made sure of that.” Her voice is soft, dripping with indignation.
Wells snorts.
Kyler goes still. No reaction. None outward, anyway. But I see it. The way his fingers curl into fists. The tiny shift in his stance.
I glance toward Lila and Logan. She’s gripping his arm now.
Logan’s watching Kyler with that same calm, dangerous focus he brings into mission briefings.
Wells is standing near the window, hands braced on the back of a dining chair.
Alinna’s still next to Ivy, grounding her.
Townsend hasn’t moved. But I can feel him working. Calculating behind the stillness.
I step forward just enough to be heard. “Wade,” I say evenly, “none of us are arguing this is serious. But dragging Ivy and her daughter—”
“Our daughter,” Kyler snaps.
I clench my teeth. “Taking Ivy and Hadley out of here tonight without a plan doesn’t make them safer. It makes them visible.”
He doesn’t like that. I didn’t expect him to.
“What do you suggest we do?” There’s desperation and what sounds like fear in his voice. Things I didn’t hear before. He clears his throat and tries again. “We need to make a fucking plan.”
“We are,” Logan says. “But you came in like this was a hostage extraction. You want to protect them, great. We do, too. So let’s actually talk about what that looks like.”
Kyler looks at Logan, and for a second, I’m not sure if we’re about to see round two. But something in Logan’s tone—calm, no-nonsense, the kind you get from people who’ve stared down missiles at Mach speed—pulls Kyler back from the edge.
“I don’t want her out in the open,” Kyler says tightly. “They may know where she lives. About her studio. Her schedule. All of it. She needs to be somewhere secure, with armed guards on standby. And they’re probably about to send us in, which means as much as I want it to be, it can’t be me.”
“Yeah well, you can’t just lock her up like a prisoner,” Logan says.
Kyler narrows his eyes on Logan’s arm wrapped tightly around Lila’s small waist. “And if it were Lila?”
Logan sucks in a breath, absently wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her against his chest.
“That’s what I thought,” Kyler finishes.
Ivy turns toward me then. Just a little.
Her face is pale, but she’s standing tall.
Strong. The way she probably had to be a hundred times during that marriage.
“I’m not leaving my life behind because of a shadow,” she says, voice quiet but fierce.
“But I’m not stupid, either. If there’s a real threat, I’ll do what’s needed. For Hadley.”
Kyler’s eyes soften.
Logan shifts into mission mindset, like someone just handed him an op plan. “Alright. Let’s get practical. We’ve got three problems. Visibility. Vulnerability. And viability.”
Wells raises a brow. “Viability?”
Logan smirks. “It sounded better than ‘logistics’.”
Lila gives him a subtle elbow to the ribs, but her expression is loving. She knows he’s doing what he does best, bringing order to chaos.
Townsend speaks next, stepping forward for the first time. “She’s right. Ivy can’t just disappear. She’s got a business. A daughter who’s in school, right? People will notice.”
“Then let her move on base,” Kyler snaps again, like it’s obvious. “There’s housing at Langley. I’ll pull strings.”
“You’re not stationed here,” Townsend says evenly. “You’re TDY more often than not. You think security forces is going to hand her a visitor badge and a bungalow because you said so?”
Kyler takes a breath. “She’s still my fam—”
“I’m not. Not legally,” Ivy interrupts, voice quiet but firm. “I could go stay with my brother,” she offers cautiously, then glances at Kyler. “But that means taking Hadley out of her routine and finding coverage for the studio.”
Kyler shakes his head. “That’s too far. You’re too exposed. You think whoever’s behind this wouldn’t find a fucking address connected to you in under an hour?”
“What do you want me to do then?” Ivy asks. “Hide in a panic room until someone gives you permission to fix this?”
“What about a safe house?” Wells asks, finally speaking up. “Not military-issued, but something quiet, local. Off the radar.”
Logan nods. “I can call in a favor. I know a guy. Former agency. Runs private security out of Chesapeake. Keeps a few properties for emergencies. No paper trail.”
“I’m not raising Hadley in a compound,” Ivy says, but she doesn’t say no.
Alinna, still standing firm beside Ivy, glances around the room. “Or what if she just stayed with someone nearby for now? Someone trained. Someone who doesn’t draw attention.”
Silence ripples again. Tense. Wary.
Kyler looks like he’s about to blow, but he doesn’t. Not yet.
And me?
Fuck it. I can’t let Ivy go back to her house, not if there’s even a chance someone’s watching it. “You can stay with me,” I say, locking eyes with her now. “I’ve got a three-bedroom ten or so minutes from base. You and Hadley would have your own rooms. It’s quiet. Safe.”
Ivy blinks at me, startled. Her eyes are wide, searching.
“Fuck no—” Kyler hisses, his glare sharp enough to cut. “You’re not living with another guy.”
“She’s not,” I say evenly, not looking at him. “She’d be staying in a house. With her daughter. Under protection.”
“He’s not just another guy, Ky,” Ivy says gently, eyes still on me. “He’s my friend.”
Ky.
I swallow the eye roll. Barely.
“I’ll stay with you,” Kyler says, voice hard. “Until I leave again.”
Logan’s eyebrows lift. “Then all of you are in one place. Is that actually a good idea?”
Kyler shrugs. “You know what I am. I think I can protect my family.”
“And when you inevitably spin up again?” Wells asks, leaning forward.
Kyler doesn’t answer right away. When he finally looks at me, it’s like he’s trying to decide whether to punch me in the face or thank me. “I guess she stays with you.”
“Wade,” Townsend cuts in, voice calm but laced with authority.
“Why don’t you get more clarification from JSOC?
Figure out exactly what we’re dealing with.
Then we regroup. For now, Ivy and Hadley just need to be somewhere secure and discreet.
” He pauses, glancing at me. “You are aware that Everett is on the demo team and how much we travel?”
“We do,” Logan clarifies, turning to Ivy. “But we’re mostly on military bases. Secure locations, constant movement. Could work in your favor.”
Ivy’s already looking at Lila when she says it. “You and Had could come with us,” she offers, eyes lighting up with hope.
Townsend looks like he’s about to object, then shuts his mouth instead.
“It’d make it hard for anyone to track you,” Logan says.
Kyler finally nods, slow and thoughtful. “It could work. And when I’m back stateside, I’ll stay with you.”
I glance at Ivy again. Her amber eyes flash with stress, fear, and something unreadable, but she still manages to look like the strongest person in the room. Still beautiful as hell.
And the idea of her living with me? Terrifying. And thrilling.
Female roommates and I don’t exactly have the best history.
The only time I’ve had one was a few years back, when I’d just moved off base.
She was my buddy’s on-again, off-again disaster of a girlfriend.
She swore they were off. I came home drunk, took her word for it—rookie mistake.
He decked me in the face the following weekend.
Apparently “off” had a loose definition.
So yeah, not exactly a stellar track record.
But this is Ivy.
And I’m not that guy anymore. “I’ll get the guest rooms ready,” I say quietly.
No one argues.