Chapter 37 Rylie
Rylie
The pain came in layers.
Not sharp—just deep. Bruised muscle, pulled tendons, the ache of having fought longer than my body wanted to. Every time I shifted, something protested. Every time I closed my eyes, the room tilted, reminding me I’d been pushed past my limits.
But I was safe.
That realization settled slowly, like a blanket being tucked around me from the inside out.
The cabin smelled faintly of coffee and pine cleaner. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in pale stripes, warming my legs beneath the quilt. A fire crackled softly in the stone hearth, the sound steady and grounding.
I focused on that.
On breathing.
On the fact that the restraints were gone.
That the walls weren’t concrete.
That the man sitting in the chair beside my bed wasn’t a stranger.
Trigger.
Eli.
He was leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped together like he was holding himself in one piece. His head was bowed, dark hair falling across his forehead, jaw rough with stubble.
He hadn’t noticed I was awake yet.
I studied him quietly.
This wasn’t the Ranger I’d seen kicking in doors or barking orders over comms. This was the man who hadn’t slept, who hadn’t moved from my side except when the medic had threatened to sedate him too.
His shoulders were tight—wound like cables stretched too far.
“Hey,” I whispered.
He lifted his head instantly, eyes locking onto mine like he’d been waiting for the sound of my voice.
“You okay?” he asked, already rising halfway out of the chair before stopping himself, like he was afraid to jostle the air around me.
I smiled faintly. “Still here.”
Relief hit him hard enough that I saw it ripple through him. He exhaled slowly, one hand dragging down his face before he reached for me—careful, gentle—settling his fingers over mine on top of the blanket.
“Doc said you’d sleep most of the morning,” he said. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” I murmured. “I woke up because you were thinking too loud.”
That earned a ghost of a smile.
“I’m bad at quiet,” he admitted.
I shifted slightly, testing my limits. A dull ache flared, but nothing unbearable. The meds had dulled the edges without fogging my head—just like I’d asked.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“This is the Rangers cabin,” he replied. “It’s one of our backup place. Off-grid. Harder to find. Easier to defend. We have about eight safe houses where we can take our clients if needed.
Of course it was.
I let my head sink back into the pillow. “Everyone else?”
“Rotating security. Wolf and Havoc are outside. Saint’s in town, keeping eyes open. Your Dad I just sent home. Ace took first watch last night.”
I absorbed that in silence.
No alarms.
No shouting.
No gunfire.
Just the quiet crackle of the fire and the steady warmth of his hand around mine.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles—slow, grounding.
“I know,” he said. “I’m still staying.”
That shouldn’t have meant so much.
It did anyway.
The door creaked open and Wolf stepped inside, his movements deliberately quiet. He took one look at me awake and nodded once, approval and relief wrapped into the gesture.
“Morning,” he said. “How you feeling, Sheriff’s Daughter?”
“Tougher than I look,” I replied. How is that sweet new baby? You should be home with your family.”
His mouth twitched. “She’s perfect. I’m going home in a little bit.” He pulled his phone out and showed us the baby’s pictures he had.
“She’s beautiful.”
Trigger’s grip tightened just a fraction.
Wolf didn’t miss it.
“We’ve got eyes on all known associates,” he continued. “Nothing yet. No calls. No movement. No word from Thomas.”
I swallowed. “That’s not good. Why isn’t Thomas locked up?”
“He was bailed out.”
“Why did he even get bail?”
“I don’t know,” Wolf said honestly.
“They’re showing patience.”
The word settled heavy in my chest.
Trigger leaned forward. “You’re not leaving this cabin,” he said. Not harsh. Not loud. Just final.
I met his gaze. “I wasn’t planning to.”
Wolf studied us both for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Because when they move again…” He let the sentence trail off.
When.
Not if.
Wolf headed back outside, closing the door softly behind him.
Silence filled the room again—but this time it wasn’t empty.
Trigger stood and carefully sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could feel his warmth. He brushed a strand of hair back from my face, his touch reverent, like he was still surprised I was here.
“You scared me,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I replied. “You scared me too.”
His lips curved faintly. “Fair.”
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been circling in my chest since I woke.
“What happens when they come back?”
He didn’t dodge it.
“We end it,” he said. “Completely.”
I searched his face. The certainty there didn’t frighten me.
It steadied me.
“Together?” I asked.
His eyes softened. “Always.”
I closed my eyes, letting my head rest against his shoulder, letting myself believe—just for a little while—that the world might hold its breath.
Outside, the forest stood quiet.
But somewhere far beyond the tree line, men who didn’t forgive losses were already planning their next move.
And deep down, I knew—
This peace was borrowed.