Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Trey
My Domain – Tommee Profitt, SVRCINA
Iflex my jaw, making my ears pop.
Everyone’s pretty quiet on the flight, heads down, scrolling their socials…
well, not Logan—he’s reading a fucking book because he’s an old man trapped in the body of a stupid-hot one.
Niko’s jet touched down minutes ago, but the shift from sky to ground hasn’t translated into anything resembling stillness.
It lingers instead in fragments. The blur of the runway lights, the weight of Chace’s presence beside us in the SUV, the quiet intensity of whatever he brought with him that he hasn’t fully said yet.
Behind us, another vehicle follows at a controlled distance.
I caught sight of Niko stepping in with Mac, Logan, and Sam before we pulled away from the strip.
Nothing about this return is casual.
Nothing about it is what my life used to be.
Too fucking serious.
The SUV slows as we approach home, and I feel the change before I fully take it in. The density of security, the way the space has been fortified.
Looks like ordering from DoorDash is going to be a no-go for a while… shit. What about my regular staff?
I can already picture Igor in gloves unclogging a toilet… brother would probably just stare at it, pull out his gun, and decide it’s going to self-clean.
The gates are already open, guards positioned with exact precision along the perimeter, their presence less about visibility and more about coverage. Cameras sweep over us as we pass through.
Once, I would have driven through these gates without thinking.
Once, this place was just mine.
Now, it’s something else entirely.
A fucking compound.
Was it really just months ago none of this existed?
A few months ago, I didn’t think like this, didn’t carry the weight of consequence in every decision, every step, every breath.
I lived in the moment. I took what I wanted when I wanted it, without calculating the fallout, without anticipating the cost.
There were no threats.
No enemies.
No reason to look over my shoulder.
Simpler times…but I wouldn’t change a fucking thing. My hand tightens slightly around Sera’s as the SUV comes to a stop.
I wouldn’t change it.
Not a single fucking part of it.
Not if it means I end up here…with her.
Because the truth is, everything changed long before the chaos, long before the danger, long before any of this turned into something I had to fight to hold onto.
It changed the night I saw her.
The night I stepped into that church without a reason I could explain…and found her instead.
Even now, I can still see it.
The way she stood there.
The way the world seemed to narrow, to align in a way it never had before.
As if something unseen had shifted into place.
As if I had been led there.
Led to her.
Maybe it was coincidence.
Maybe it was chance.
But standing here now, with everything that’s followed in the wake of that single moment, I don’t believe in either of those things anymore.
Maybe it was fate.
Or maybe it was something stronger.
The SUV door opens, pulling me back into the present, and I step out first.
“Ava,” I hear, her voice cutting cleanly through the edge of tension as she approaches.
She’s been with me long enough to recognize what’s changed without needing it explained, long enough to understand that what stands in front of her now isn’t the same man who walked out of this house months ago—and yet she meets me the same way she always has.
“Welcome home,” she says, smiling. Then her gaze shifts to Sera, softening with something warmer, something genuine. “And congratulations. I’ve been waiting to say that properly. I was so worried.”
Yeah…I am a shitty employer.
The word settles between us, heavier than it should be.
Congratulations.
For a fraction of a second, it threatens to pull me into something dangerously close to peace.
My grip on Sera tightens, subtle but deliberate as I lead her from the SUV. “Thank you, Ava.” Sera replies, leaning into me.
We move inside, Chace falling in step with us without needing direction, his presence a constant at my back, while the second SUV remains positioned outside, the rest of them holding formation, securing the perimeter before they follow.
The doors close behind us with a quiet finality, sealing us into a space that is both entirely familiar and yet fundamentally altered.
I see it differently now.
Not as a home.
As a structure.
A place designed to protect what matters most.
As I walk beside her, just slightly ahead, positioned without thinking, ensuring that anything that reaches her reaches me first.
It doesn’t feel like enough.
It will never feel like enough.
Big fucking shoot-me windows, for starters… why did I go with “open” and “modern” instead of medieval, no-fucking-around murder holes…
Heh.
Murder holes.
But when we reach the bedroom and I open the door, when my focus lands on the box placed carefully at the center of the bed.
I cross the room, lift the lid, take in the contents—books, vitamins, magazines, all chosen with care.
My hand rests against the edge of the box as I glance back at my wife, and everything else… the security, the threat, the constant awareness… doesn’t disappear, but it moves aside just enough for something else to take shape.
Because no matter how much my life has changed.
No matter how far from simple it’s become.
There is one thing I know with absolute certainty.
If I had to walk through all of it again to get back to this moment.
To her. My runaway nun.
I would.
Every time.
Reassure yourself some more, Fuckface. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull her with me, guiding her until she settles over my lap, her knees bracketing my hips.
“We’re home, Dove. We made it.”
My voice comes out quieter than I expect. I reach up, catching one of her curls and winding it slowly around my finger. I feel it the second it happens, the way the tension begins to drain from her, how her shoulders loosen as she leans into me.
“You know,” I murmur, lifting my eyes to hers and holding them there, “this is one of the only places I’ve ever felt safe.
One of the only places I’ve ever felt like I belong.
” My hand slides along her thigh, steadying myself more than anything.
“I know it’s different right now…with everyone around, with all of this… but it’s still ours.”
“Where are the others?” Sera asks.
“Mac’s garage, and the recording studio…” I exhale softly, searching for the right words. “Those places made me feel like I could breathe. Like I wasn’t constantly bracing for impact.”
I gesture lightly around the room.
“This, though…this is our sanctuary.”
I glance around the room without really looking away from her.
“Our sanctuary,” Sera murmurs. “The Lord is our refuge and our fortress…”
Mild Bible-babble… kinda cute.
Sure. But is she calling you Lord, or this place?
Neither. I think. It’s one of those “the Lord is my shepherd” things.
Her fingers slip into my hair, moving through it slowly, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, leaning into the touch.
Bible talk gets her frisky, think of something quick…
“I trust you, Trey,” she says quietly. “I trust you to keep us safe. Me, you… and our baby.”
Something in my chest tightens at that. At the weight of it, at the truth of it, but I don’t let it show. Not fully. I just tighten my hold on her.
I cringe, because I wouldn’t trust me with a potted fern.
The room stretches out around us, familiar in a way nothing else is.
The bed sits wide and central, the rest of the space opening out in clean lines.
The walk-in wardrobe beyond, everything in its place, the ensuite just past it, all marble and glass.
Floor-to-ceiling doors lead out to the private balcony, overlooking the grounds, the pool catching the light like nothing out there could ever touch us.
“So, Mrs. Baker…” I murmur, my hand sliding up her back as I look at her properly, taking in the way she’s starting to come back to herself. “What do you wish to do now that you’re home?”
“Shower. Sleep.” A smile breaks across her face, bright and unguarded in a way I haven’t seen enough of lately. “Draw. I’ve missed that so much.”
Her lips find my skin before I can answer…soft, scattered kisses across my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth.
“Cook!” she gasps suddenly, like the thought has just struck her all at once, her eyes lighting up. “I can cook you something.” Her hands slide into my hair again, her forehead brushing mine. “What do you want?”
I huff out a quiet breath, my hand settling firmly at her waist, keeping her close .
I look at the tiny freckles dusted across her nose. All twenty-seven of them. I counted them once, back when I was still learning her, back when knowing her felt like something I had to earn piece by piece.
But I didn’t stop there.
My gaze traces over her like memory does the work for me.
The two hidden just behind her left ear. The ones most people would never think to look for.
The two tucked behind her right knee.
And the three soft ones beneath her left breast that I kiss at every given opportunity.
Every inch of her—mapped.
My jaw tightens slightly before I drag my focus back to her face.
Her skin is flawless, pale and smooth.
Her lips pull my attention next. Rose-pink, that sharp, perfect cupid’s bow I’ve traced more times than I can count, committed to memory in ways that go beyond sight.
Then her eyes.
Grey—but not empty of color. They move, shift, pull—like stormlight caught behind glass, something alive beneath the surface that always draws me in deeper.
And her hair…wild, untamed, those red curls falling wherever they please, catching the light like fire that refuses to be contained.
I exhale slowly through my nose, tightening my hold on her thighs. So fucking beautiful.
“Right now?” I murmur, my thumb brushing along her side, “Nothing that takes you away from me.”
My gaze softens, but my grip doesn’t.
“You can cook later,” I add. “We’ve got time.”