Chapter 78 Havoc
Havoc
Iwake up before the sun.
Not because I want to.
Because I always do.
Years of training.
Years of never letting my guard down.
But this time… it’s different.
Because I’m not alone.
Aspen is in my arms.
Curled into me like she belongs there.
Like she’s been there longer than just a few hours.
Her head rests against my chest, her breath slow and even, her hand lightly fisted on my chest like she fell asleep holding on to me.
Like she didn’t want to let go.
Something tight settles in my chest.
Dangerous.
Because I could get used to this.
Too fast.
Too easy.
I shouldn’t.
I know I shouldn’t.
But my arm tightens around her anyway.
Just a fraction.
Careful not to wake her.
My ribs protest, but I ignore them.
Not important.
Not compared to this.
I study her in the dim light filtering through the window.
The softness of her face.
The way her lashes rest against her cheeks.
The faint crease between her brows like even in sleep, she’s bracing for something.
For the world to hit her again.
And damn if that doesn’t do something to me.
Because I want to be the thing that keeps that from happening.
I want—
I stop that thought before it finishes.
Because I know where it leads.
And I don’t get to want things like that.
Not with a life like mine.
Not with danger sitting this close to her door.
Not with a kid depending on her.
My jaw tightens.
This wasn’t supposed to feel like forever.
One moment.
Something we didn’t let go too far.
Instead—
I glance down at her again.
Yeah.
That line’s already gone.
Her fingers shift slightly against my chest.
Then still.
And something inside me settles again.
Like this… right here… is where I’m supposed to be.
Which is exactly the problem.
A floorboard creaks somewhere down the hall.
I go still instantly.
Every muscle tightening.
Listening.
Aspen doesn’t wake.
Good.
Another sound.
Soft.
Too soft to be accidental.
Not one of the guys.
Not someone relaxed.
Someone trying not to be heard.
My entire body shifts into something else.
Not Havoc lover.
Havoc Operator.
Havoc Protector.
I slide my hand gently from Aspen’s back, easing out from under her without waking her.
She murmurs softly, shifting into the pillow, reaching slightly like she’s searching for me.
That nearly undoes me.
But I don’t stop.
I can’t.
I quickly pull on my sweats. I grab my weapon from the nightstand.
Move silently toward the door.
Every step controlled.
Measured.
The hallway is dim.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
I pause just outside the door, listening again.
There—
A whisper of movement near the stairs.
Not one of ours.
I know the rhythm of my team.
This isn’t it.
My grip tightens.
I move forward, each step soundless. Down the stairs as quiet as a mouse.
The Tavern may look like a safe place—
But it’s not built for defense.
Too many entry points.
Too many blind spots. We have to fix that.
And if they made it inside—
A flash of anger cuts through me.
Because she’s here.
Because her kid is here.
Because I let my guard slip.
One night.
That’s all it took.
I reach the corner.
Angle my body just enough to see—
A shadow moves near the back entrance.
Low.
Fast.
Not searching.
Heading somewhere.
Upstairs.
My pulse spikes.
No.
Absolutely not.
I move.
Fast. Silent. Deadly.
“Don’t,” I say, low and lethal.
The figure freezes.
Half-turns.
And that’s when I see the weapon.
Not aimed at me.
Aimed up the stairs.
Toward the rooms.
Toward—
Rage hits like a detonation.
I don’t hesitate.
Two shots.
Controlled.
Precise.
The man drops before he can pull the trigger.
The sound echoes through the Tavern—
Loud.
Too loud.
Damn it.
“Clear!” I bark immediately.
Doors slam open.
Boots hit the floor.
Voices rise.
“Contact down!” someone shouts.
“Perimeter breach!”
“Check exits!”
Chaos erupts—
But I’m already moving.
Already turning.
Already heading back to her.
I take the stairs two at a time, ribs screaming, ignoring it.
The door bursts open before I even register grabbing the handle.
Aspen is already up.
Wide-eyed.
Heart racing—I can see it in the way her chest rises and falls.
“Havoc—”
“I’ve got you,” I say immediately.
Same words.
Different moment.
But this time they’re steel.
Not softness.
I cross the room in seconds.
Pull her to me.
Check her quickly—no blood, no injuries. She’s fine, I know that, but I still need to see for myself.
“Everything is okay?” I say.
She nods, breath shaky.
“What’s happening?”
“Someone got inside,” I say.
Her face pales slightly.
“Dylan—”
“I’ll get him.”
But she’s already moving.
Of course she is, because she’s strong.
Brave.
Terrifying.
We move together into the adjoining room.
Dylan is still asleep.
Somehow.
Through gunfire.
Through chaos.
Kids.
Aspen rushes to his side, brushing a hand over his hair, relief breaking across her face.
And I—
I stand in the doorway.
Watching them.
And something inside me locks into place.
Not just protection.
Not just responsibility.
Something deeper.
More permanent.
More dangerous.
I turn back toward the hall.
Because whoever got inside—
Wasn’t working alone.
And this?
I glance back at Aspen one more time.
Her eyes meet mine.
Fear.
Strength.
Trust.
All of it wrapped together.
“Stay here,” I tell her.
Her chin lifts.
“You know I won’t.”
Yeah.
I do.
And God help anyone who comes through that door now.
Because this?
This isn’t just a job anymore.
This is personal.
And I don’t lose what’s mine.