18 - Margaret
Margaret woke to the unfamiliar scent of woodsmoke and sharp pine.
For a disorienting second, she stared up at the heavy, exposed timber beams of the ceiling, her heart doing a panicked stutter.
Then, the memories of the frantic flight, the armored SUVs, and the tracker in her Nonna’s necklace came rushing back.
She was in Maine. At Warden’s cabin.
With a heavy sigh, she pushed back the thick wool quilt and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
The wooden floorboards were freezing against her bare feet.
As she stood, she took a deep breath, smoothing down the wrinkles in her borrowed clothes.
She was entirely out of her element, surrounded by five lethal men in a wilderness fortress, being hunted by a billionaire with a limitless budget.
It was terrifying. Yet, why did she feel so simultaneously suffocated and strangely safe in this rugged cabin?
So, she did what she had been trained to do since she was a little girl in Richmond Heights. She put on her armor.
It wasn’t Kevlar; it was a perfectly constructed, impenetrable facade of polite pleasantness.
It was the same serene, detached smile she used at tedious charity galas or when dealing with aggressive board members.
Until she figured out the exact dynamic of this remote cabin, politeness was her safest shield.
Following the low rumble of male voices and the heavenly smell of roasted coffee, Margaret padded softly down the short hallway, the worn wooden floor creaking faintly beneath her steps.
When she stepped into the rustic kitchen, the sheer size of the men made the room feel instantly claustrophobic.
Dog, Warden, Jake, Enzo, and Thorn were gathered around a heavy oak table, finishing off an early breakfast of eggs and bacon.
Soft morning light filtered through the window, casting warm patterns on the worn wooden floorboards, adding a quiet calm to the bustling space.
Conversation paused briefly as she entered, all eyes turning toward her with measured curiosity and unmistakable respect. Without a word, Dog stepped forward and pulled out a chair near the table, gesturing for her to take a seat.
Her eyes flicked toward the empty seat and the unexpected kindness in Dog’s steady gaze. She wasn’t used to being treated with such respect, never quite like this. The small moment unsettled her practiced calm, stirring a cautious hope buried beneath years of guarded doubt.
Taking a slow, steadying breath, she reminded herself that this kindness might be genuine: a small step toward something safer, something better. She eased into the chair, accepting the unspoken invitation.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Margaret said, her voice smooth and lightly melodic, betraying none of the exhaustion she felt. She offered them a flawless, practiced smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Dog said, his eyes scanning her face carefully, perhaps looking for the terrified woman from the night before. He stood and poured a steaming mug of black coffee, handing it to her. “Sleep okay?”
“Like a log, thank you,” she lied politely, taking the mug with a gracious nod.
She wrapped her cold hands around the warm ceramic, taking a slow, quiet sip.
Keeping her posture composed yet slightly withdrawn, she made herself as small and unassuming as possible, careful not to draw more attention than necessary.
“Alright, ladies, playtime is over,” Jake announced, pushing his empty plate away and standing up.
He looked at Enzo and Thorn, a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Sun’s barely up. Time for morning PT. We’ll take the outer perimeter trail.
Five miles. Dropping for fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups every mile, and we’ll finish with walking lunges up the driveway incline. ”
Enzo groaned, rubbing his face, while Thorn just cracked his neck with a dull pop.
“You’re a sadist, Jake,” Enzo muttered, though he was already pushing his chair back.
From his spot by the stove, Warden let out a raspy, genuine laugh. “You boys do remember you’re in private security now, right? You’re not active duty anymore. Nobody is forcing you to freeze your asses off doing burpees in the Maine woods at zero-dark-thirty.”
“Got to stay sharp, old man,” Jake shot back with a grin, patted his prosthetic leg with a metallic thunk. “Besides, if Dog’s got a million-dollar bounty on his head, this old piece of carbon fiber can still outrun him when Charles’s guys show up.”
Dog just snorted into his coffee.
Jake, Enzo, and Thorn grabbed their jackets, heading for the heavy front door.
Dog set down his mug and shot Warden a challenging look. “How about you and I team up tomorrow and take these guys on? Show them a thing or two about teamwork and endurance.”
Warden’s eyes lit up with a competitive spark as he folded a napkin and stood. “You’re on. Let’s see if your pace can keep up with mine.”
Jake turned halfway back through the door, flashing a cocky grin. “Challenge accepted. Prepare to eat dust, boys.”
Enzo chuckled, slapping his jacket on. “Time to prove who really runs this place.”
Thorn cracked his knuckles, his smile sharp. “May the best team win.”
Dog leaned back, a sly smile curving his lips. “No mercy.”
“Ten hundred hours, video conference call with Hank, Bear, and whoever else has updates,” Dog called out, his voice cutting through their banter. “Don’t be late.”
Jake waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
The front door swung shut behind them, the crisp morning air drawing the three men out into the woods with the promise of a fierce, friendly competition tomorrow.
Margaret remained completely still, her expression a mask of polite, mild interest. She took another slow sip of her coffee, watching the men disappear into the biting Maine morning for their punishing workout.
They were loud, rough, and entirely intimidating, but as she watched the easy, brotherhood banter between them, her society armor began to feel a bit unnecessary.
Still, she kept her posture perfectly straight and her smile pleasantly fixed.
After a few moments of awkward silence, punctuated only by the crackle of the wood stove, Warden straightened. “Well, someone needs to keep these fireplaces fed.” He grabbed a thick flannel jacket from a hook by the door. “Be back in a bit.” He gave Dog a brief nod and stepped out into the cold.
Dog turned his gaze to Margaret, a softer expression replacing the intensity from moments before. “Are you feeling up to some breakfast? We’ve got plenty of bacon and eggs left. Do you prefer pancakes with that, or just toast?”
Margaret blinked, and for the first time noticed the tightness in her shoulders.
She eased them down. With only Dog present, the imposing energy of the cabin lessened, shrinking away from the hard edges of a barracks to something quieter, almost inviting.
Her flawless smile softened, revealing a hint of genuine warmth, though her eyes still carried a shadow of guarded reserve.
“Oh, no trouble at all. Bacon and eggs would be perfectly lovely, thank you. Please don’t go to any extra effort for pancakes or anything fancy. I assure you, I’m not picky.”
Dog nodded and carefully loaded a plate with a generous portion of scrambled eggs and several strips of bacon from the warm skillet.
He set the plate gently before her with a slice of lightly toasted bread.
“Help yourself to anything else,” he said, gesturing toward the coffee pot and a pitcher of water.
Margaret settled at the table, taking a careful, measured bite of bacon. She chewed deliberately, her eyes falling on Dog as he wiped down the last of the breakfast dishes. The silence settled comfortably between them now, warm and unspoken rather than tense.
“So,” she began, once her plate was nearly cleared, “what exactly are we doing today? Beyond the general ‘staying safe’ directive, that is.” Her tone was light, but her eyes held a deeper, more direct question.
Dog continued wiping down the counter, his movements efficient and quiet.
“Well, for me, there’s the thousand-hours video conference call with the rest of the team for an intel update.
After that,” he paused, turning to face her, a small, almost shy smile touching his lips, “Warden has a pretty extensive library in here, if you like to read. And maybe we could play some card games later, if that’s something you’d be interested in. ”
He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms and surveying her with a curious, open gaze. “What would interest you? We’re not exactly set up for high tea, but we can make you comfortable.”
Margaret considered his words, her gaze drifting around the rustic cabin, then settling on the quiet, steady warmth of Dog.
The tension that had been a constant companion since she woke seemed to ebb a little more.
The library sounded perfectly sensible, and cards, while not her usual pastime, were a common enough social diversion.
She offered a small, hesitant smile, a genuine warmth flickering in her eyes.
“The library sounds wonderful, of course. I’m always partial to a good biography or historical text.
” She glanced down for a moment, fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass before meeting his gaze again.
“If there happens to be any paper and perhaps a pencil, I enjoy sketching architectural details. Or, more accurately, reimagining them. My own home, particularly the conservatories, has started to feel a little predictable.” She gave a slight, self-deprecating shrug.
“It’s hardly an action-packed pastime, but it keeps my mind occupied. ”
Why am I telling him this? she wondered briefly. He probably isn’t interested in such things.
She watched Dog’s reaction, curious. It wasn’t the kind of hobby she usually advertised, especially not to men like him. There was a faint surprise in his eyes, quickly masked, replaced by a thoughtful nod.
“Architectural details,” Dog repeated, a hint of genuine interest in his voice.
“I think we can rustle up some paper and a pencil for you. Warden’s usually got a pad for notes somewhere around here.
” He pushed off the counter. “Lead the way to the library, then? We’ve got a bit of time before the call. ”
Margaret’s smile deepened, a genuine, unburdened curve of her lips. “You lead, please,” she said, a new lightness in her step as she followed him, curious about what treasures Warden’s library might hold.