Chapter 4
The phone rings, slicing through the stillness of my office like a warning siren. I glance at the caller ID—Rivera. It”s been years since I”ve seen that name flash on my screen.
I”ve known Simon for years, a bond forged in the crucible of shared objectives and mutual respect. He’s a guy who had my back when the chips were down. His presence in my life was a constant, like the northern star guiding a ship through choppy waters. And though he was Sasha”s manager, he understood without a word just how deeply her well being, her smile, her everything, resonated with the protective beat of my heart. He knew the unspoken truth—that she was my compass, my mission, and maybe my redemption.
”Creed,” I answer, all business.
”Axel, it”s Simon. We”ve got a situation with Sasha,” he says, and it”s like a punch to the gut. Just hearing her name drags me back to a night drenched in sweat and pulsing beats—a night that never really ended for me.
”What kind of situation?” I keep my tone flat, but inside, my pulse is a traitor, hammering against my skin.
”She”s got a stalker. It”s getting serious.” Simon”s voice is tight, and I picture him running a hand through his hair in frustration—something he does when shit hits the fan.
I lean back in my chair, swiveling to face the window. The city below pulses with life, each light a reminder of the countless souls I”ve sworn to protect.
”A stalker, huh?” I keep my tone even, but my thoughts are a goddamn hurricane. ”And you want my team to handle it?”
”Not just your team, Creed.” There”s a pause, and I can almost hear him choosing his next words with care. ”We want you.”
A dry chuckle escapes me before I can reel it back. ”Me? Personally? Shit, Simon, it”s been years since?—”
”I know,” he cuts in, all business now. ”But you”re the best. And she’ll trust you.”
Trust me? That”s rich. We shared one night—a collision of need and desperation—and that means she’ll trust me?
I lean back in my chair, eyes darting to the commendations on the wall. Each one is a battle fought, a life saved. And now Sasha”s life is in someone”s crosshairs.
”Fine,” I say finally. ”Send me the details.”
”Thanks, man.” He exhales—a sound heavy with relief. ”I knew you were the one to call.”
As we end the call, I stand and pace the room, a caged animal in its den. The commendations on the wall stare back at me, reminders of all I”ve done—and all I”ve sacrificed for control and protection.
And Sasha? She’d slipped through my fingers like smoke.
In the solitude of my office, I find myself at a crossroads. Sasha isn’t just another name on a client list; she”s a piece of my history, a chapter I thought I”d closed long ago.
I lean against the window, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat of my thoughts. Memories rush me—the curve of her smile in the darkened club, her voice whispering my name like it was something sacred, the promise in her touch that felt like forever.
I shove them aside with practiced ease—or so I tell myself—and focus on what needs to be done. This is about protection; this is what I do best.
But as much as I try to push down the rise of emotions at the thought of seeing her again... they”re there—unwelcome and undeniable—stirring beneath my skin like a storm waiting to break.
Taking on Sasha”s case isn”t just a matter of professional duty; it’s a chance to face the one that got away. It”s a risk—a gamble—with my heart on the line. But it”s also a shot at redemption for the man I was and the man I”ve become.
I know the risks, the potential for fallout. But I also know that when it comes to Sasha, there”s no choice to make. I”ll always choose to protect her, to be the shield she needs against the darkness that threatens to consume her.
I never planned on returning to the field. After hanging up my boots and holster, I thought my days of close protection were behind me. I built a fortress of wealth, a castle of success where I could try to forget the things I”d done, the lives I couldn”t save. My new battlefield was boardrooms and philanthropy galas, where the stakes were high but not deadly. I had a team for that now—men and women who”d stand in harm”s way so I didn”t have to.
I could”ve passed it off to one of my guys—should”ve, by all accounts. But something primal rose up in me, a fierce need to be the one who stood between her and this faceless menace. It was madness; I had a billion dollar security firm with more resources than most small countries, yet here I was looking forward to this gig like some rookie bodyguard playing a hero.
The clangof metal echoes through my private gym as I slam the weights back on the rack. Sweat drips from my brow, stinging my eyes, but it”s nothing compared to the sting of old memories resurfacing.
”Piece of cake,” I mutter to myself, though each rep feels like lifting the weight of my past with Sasha.
The door swings open and Derek strides in, his imposing frame filling the doorway. The scar running down his cheek serves as a constant reminder of our shared history. ”Talking to yourself again, Axel?”
”Just working through some things,” I grunt, grabbing a towel and wiping my face. ”What”s up?”
He leans against the wall, arms crossed. ”Got an update from Simon. He”s sending over Sasha”s schedule and some recent photos of the stalker.”
I nod, tossing the towel aside and moving to the bench press. The iron offers no judgment, no lingering glances.
Derek watches me for a moment. ”You sure you”re ready for this? Being face to face with Sasha after all these years?”
I can”t help but smirk as I position myself under the barbell. ”It”s just another job, Derek. I”ve got this.”
With a smooth motion, I lift the bar, letting the burn in my muscles ground me back to reality. Each press is a reminder—I”m here to do a job, not rekindle some long-lost love affair.
”Just another job, huh?” Derek raises an eyebrow. ”Is that why you”re pushing yourself extra hard today?”
”You know me,” I say as I push out another rep, ”always striving for perfection.”
”Right.” Derek doesn”t sound convinced. ”And those extra sets? That”s just you being thorough?”
The barbell clinks back into place. ”Thoroughly prepared,” I correct him, sitting up.
He chuckles, shaking his head. ”Look, Axel, I know this isn”t easy for you. But remember, she”s your client now. Keep your head in the game.”
I stand and face him, flexing my fingers before wrapping them around a dumbbell. ”Derek,” I start in earnest, hoisting the weight with a controlled curl, ”I”ve got this under control.”
His gaze holds mine for a long beat before he nods. ”I know you do. But if you need to talk, I”m here. We”ve been through worse together.”
”I appreciate that,” I say sincerely. Derek”s unwavering loyalty and understanding have been a constant in my life since our days in the service.
As he turns to leave, he pauses at the door. ”Just remember, Axel, sometimes the most dangerous battles are the ones we fight within ourselves.”
With those words hanging in the air, he disappears, leaving me alone with iron and echoes of a past that refuses to stay quiet—a past that suddenly has very real implications for my future.
The room”s quiet hum is a stark contrast to the cacophony of doubts ricocheting inside my skull. It”s time to strategize, to shift into the mode that”s second nature—the protector, the guardian.
I flick on my desk lamp, its glow slicing through the darkness. Maps sprawl across my desk alongside reports and photographs—the tools of my trade. My fingers dance over them, each movement deliberate, tracing paths and points like a general plotting his next offensive.
”You”re in deep this time, Creed,” I mutter to myself, but there”s a smirk tugging at my lips.
I drag a hand down my face, feeling the rough stubble scratch against my palm. Personal risks be damned; it”s her safety on the line. And yet... there”s that spark of something else—something that doesn”t belong in the neat boxes where I file away my missions.
Shit.
I pull out a pen and start marking up the maps. Surveillance points. Checkpoints. Safe routes. The rhythm of it is calming—almost. But underneath it all is an undercurrent of... what? Anticipation? Dread?