Chapter 83 Aspen
Aspen
Idon’t let go of him.
Not for a second.
Even as we move.
Even as the men fan out around us again, weapons up, scanning the dark like something else might come out of it.
I hold my grandpa’s arm tight against me.
Too tight.
But I don’t care.
Because he’s here.
Because he’s alive.
Because I almost lost him.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs, patting my hand like I’m the one who needs comforting.
That does it.
A sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it down.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper instead.
Even though my hands are still shaking.
Even though my heart hasn’t slowed down.
Even though I can still see him—
Being dragged.
Confused.
Afraid.
I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second.
No.
He’s here now.
That’s what matters.
We walk slowly.
Carefully.
Havoc stays just ahead of us, leading the way, every step controlled, every movement deliberate.
But I see it.
The tension in his shoulders.
The way his head keeps turning.
The way his hand never strays far from his weapon.
He’s still in it.
Still ready.
Still expecting more.
And somehow…
That steadies me.
Because I know—
Nothing is getting past him.
Grandpa stumbles slightly beside me.
“I’m tired,” he says again.
“I know,” I tell him softly. “We’re almost there.”
Even if I don’t know if that’s true.
Even if I don’t know where there is anymore.
Because nothing feels safe right now.
Not the Tavern.
Not the farm.
Not even this land I now call home.
Everything feels… exposed.
We reach the edge of the property.
The Tavern lights glow ahead.
Warm.
Safe-looking.
But I know better now.
Havoc slows.
Turns slightly.
“Hold up.”
Everyone stops.
Instantly.
I feel my stomach drop.
“What is it?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away.
Just studies the building.
The windows.
The doors.
Every angle.
Then—
“Too quiet,” he says.
My pulse spikes.
“Didn’t you already clear it?”
“We did,” he replies.
Not reassuring.
At all.
He looks back at me.
At my grandfather.
At the way I’m still holding on like I’ll never let go again.
His expression shifts.
Just for a second.
Something softer.
Then it’s gone.
“Ace,” he calls. “Take point. Slow entry.”
Ace nods.
Signals the others.
They move ahead.
Careful.
Precise.
The door opens.
No one rushes in.
No one speaks.
Seconds stretch.
Too long.
Then—
“Clear,” comes the call.
I don’t breathe again until Havoc nods.
“Let’s go.”
We move inside.
The warmth hits me first.
Then the smell—coffee, wood, something familiar.
Normal.
It shouldn’t feel this strange.
Grandpa relaxes slightly beside me.
“Is this home?” he asks.
My throat tightens.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “For now.”
We guide him to a chair near the fireplace.
He sinks into it with a sigh.
“I got lost,” he says again, looking at me like he’s trying to make sense of it.
“I know,” I say, kneeling in front of him. “It’s okay.”
He studies my face.
Really studies it.
Then—
“You came back,” he says.
Not confused this time.
Certain.
My breath catches.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I did.”
His hand comes up.
Cups my cheek.
“I knew you would.”
And just like that—
Everything breaks.
Tears spill over before I can stop them.
I lean into him, holding his hand against my face.
Because I almost didn’t get this moment.
Because I almost lost him.
Because I almost—
A hand settles on my shoulder.
Warm.
Solid.
Havoc.
I don’t even have to look.
I feel him.
Right there.
Steady.
I take a breath.
Wipe my cheeks quickly.
Pull myself back together.
Because I have to.
Because this isn’t over.
I stand slowly.
Turn to him.
“Thank you,” I say.
Two words.
Not enough.
Not even close.
But everything I have right now.
His eyes meet mine.
And there’s something there.
Something deeper than before.
Something that wasn’t there when this all started.
“You don’t thank me,” he says quietly.
“I do,” I insist. “You saved him.”
His jaw tightens.
“I did my job.”
“No,” I say softly. “You did more than that.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Real.
Then—
“What they said,” I add, my voice lowering. “About taking him because of orders…”
His expression darkens instantly.
“Yeah.”
“That means this isn’t over.”
“No,” he agrees.
Not even close.
Fear flickers in my chest again.
But it doesn’t take over.
Not this time.
Because I’m not standing alone anymore.
Because he’s here.
Because we are here.
I glance back at grandpa.
Safe.
For now.
Then back at Havoc.
“What happens next?” I ask.
His gaze sharpens.
Focus locking in.
“We find out who gave that order,” he says.
My stomach tightens.
“And then?”
Something cold settles into his expression.
Something final.
“Then we make sure they can’t come after you again.”
A chill runs through me.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something else.
Because I believe him.
Completely.
And as I stand there, caught between relief and the storm that’s still coming—
I realize something I can’t ignore anymore.
This isn’t just about surviving.
This isn’t just about getting through this.
This is about what comes after.
About what we’re becoming.
Together.
And whether we’re ready for that or not—
There’s no going back now.