CHAPTER ONE #2
The elevator dings, and we step out into the penthouse—a sweep of white marble, glass walls, and gold accents. The view of Istanbul stretches endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Wow,” I breathe, walking forward. The city glows beneath us—minarets, rooftops, the water glimmering like spilled light.
Cipher moves past me, doing a sweep of the room. “Bedrooms are through there. Security room in the back. You’ll have full privacy, but I’ll be nearby if anything happens.”
“Nearby as in…?”
He glances over his shoulder. “The adjoining suite.”
My lips curve. “So you’ll be right next door.”
“Yes,” he says, voice low.
I smirk, turning back to the view before he can see the flush creeping up my neck. “Well, Cipher,” I say, “I hope you like your job.”
“I don’t have to like it,” he says quietly behind me. “I just have to keep you alive.”
And somehow, that sounds a lot like a promise.
CHAPTER TWO
Kyler
I’m fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
I’ve been with this woman for less than an hour and somehow she’s already gotten under my skin.
I checked in with Novak, Stone, and Evans, the rest of my unit and Scarlett’s detail, as soon as I excused myself from her suite.
Novak’s standing guard outside her door, giving me a much-needed second to breathe.
Between Ivy’s recent engagement, the kidnapping, and then an almost immediate TDY to Turkey, I haven’t had a moment to exhale.
The worst part is that the pressure’s high on this one. The Secretary of Defense called in favors to get our unit on his daughter’s detail. Something about chatter in-country and fearing for her safety.
What I didn’t expect…a fucking gorgeous super model with a quick wit and zero fear of me.
Usually whoever I’m protecting pretends I’m invisible.
Not Scarlett. She’s stunning, sharp, and I’m pretty sure she was mentally undressing me the second I walked in.
I didn’t see that coming. Not that I normally do bodyguard duty, but now that I’ve met her, I sure as hell won’t be giving anyone else a chance to run point.
She’s mine.
It’s a month. I can keep it together for a month.
I lean against the wall, letting my armor shift with a quiet thunk. I can feel my heart still racing.
I need to focus.
I run a hand over my face, scruff catching under my fingers.
That’s been one thing about Delta—they don’t give a shit what you look like once they’ve forged you into a weapon.
You’re not polished. You’re not “presentable” or “marketable.” You’re strength, precision, endurance, and instincts honed until they’re sharper than any blade.
Hair? Doesn’t matter. Beard? Who cares. Scars, stubble, sweat—they’re badges, not flaws.
Every cut, every burn, every sleepless night is written on your body, and that’s how they know you’ve survived.
And yeah…maybe it makes me look rough. Dirty.
Dangerous. But that’s the point. Nobody in this game cares about charm.
Or whether you’re conventionally handsome.
They care about control, about discipline, about being the last one standing.
And right now, I have to keep that focus, because that look Scarlett gave me—the one that could disarm an entire army—is exactly the kind of weakness I can’t afford.
I nod at Novak, knocking once, sharp, then pushing the door open just enough to slip inside. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch, phone in hand, legs crossed, back straight like she owns the place. Which, honestly, she probably could.
“Hi there, Cipher,” she says without looking up, tone casual. Like I’m some minor inconvenience.
I clear my throat. “We need to go over your schedule for today.”
Finally, she sets the phone down and looks up. Her eyes, the blue so dark it’s nearly purple, assess me carefully.
She’s doing it again. Eye fucking me. And I have half a mind to give her the real thing so she realizes I’m the very last thing she should want.
I’ve been broken by life. Pieced back together by the Army.
And then broken all over again by the woman I thought was the love of my life when she took off her ring, packed a bag, and planned to leave.
“My manager and I already went over my itinerary," she says, tilting her head. “You don’t need to hover.”
I take a step closer. “I’m not hovering. I’m covering you.”
She stands up, she’s so close I can feel the heat of her. She’d be tall next to a lot of people. But next to me she isn’t. “Covering me, huh? Sounds…intense.”
“It’s my job,” I say flatly, though my eyes take her in like I can’t help it.
She’s 5’7” of trouble. She moves with confidence like she’s used to getting her way. Long thick light-brown hair almost hits her waist, carefully highlighted blonde that catches the light with every shift. Her navy blue eyes lock on me like she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Flawless. Smooth skin, high cheekbones, long dark lashes framing eyes that don’t miss a thing.
Full lips, strong features, manicured nails.
And her body...Lean, toned, every line of muscle visible even under the expensive athleisure she’s wearing.
She has a perfect body, I shouldn’t notice, but I do.
And that makes her dangerous. Not because of some threat, not because she’s a target, but because she knows she’s lethal with just a look—and right now, I’m the one in her crosshairs.
Her gaze drifts over my armor, the holstered gun at my side, and the other one attached to my leg. “Heavy duty for a day of travel and a few photos?”
I shrug. “Better safe than sorry.”
She tilts her head, eyes locking on mine. “Do you sleep in full kit to? I’d like to see you in something…less heavy.”
That’s it. That one line and my pulse spikes. I grit my teeth, forcing the smirk out of my mouth instead of whatever I’d like to say back. I’m not here for flirtation. Not when the Secretary of Defense personally assigned my unit to keep her alive.
“Schedule first,” I say, moving toward the table. I grab her itinerary, trying not to notice the way she shifts slightly as I pass—subtle, deliberate, infuriating.
“Fine,” she mutters, rolling her eyes but her voice softer now. “Go ahead, Cipher.”
I clear my throat and start going over the day—briefings, photo shoots, interviews—watching her the entire time. She nods along, asks smart questions, sometimes teasing—but nothing that breaks the careful, professional barrier I’ve set.
Except every time she smirks at me, or crosses her legs, or tilts her head just so…I feel that fire in my chest flare.
I clamp down on it, remind myself of my job, and focus on the schedule.
One month.