8. Easton
EASTON
Iopen my eyes, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, the crushing weight in my chest is gone. Stella and I have been napping on the couch for a while like a real domestic couple for a change.
The low glow of the safe house command center flickers against the quiet shadows, but my focus is entirely on the incredible woman sleeping against my chest. Her head rests right over my heart, her soft, light brown hair spilling across my dark shirt.
One of her lush thighs is thrown over my leg, pinning me down—as if she could ever keep me from her.
Yesterday, she was a brave, stubborn investigative journalist trying to take down a shadow syndicate alone. Today? She is my entire world.
Seeing her walls completely crumble around me last night, feeling her yield and surrender to what’s growing between us, cemented every unhinged, possessive instinct in my soul.
I’m forty years old, hardened by violence and a lifetime of playing the shield, but Stella makes me feel alive in a way I never thought possible.
She isn't just a woman under my protection anymore. She’s my reason for breathing.
I brush a thumb over Stella’s soft, rounded cheek, tracing the line down to her full lips. She hums in her sleep, nuzzling deeper into my warmth.
A fierce, renewed sense of purpose surges through my veins.
I built Aegis Security to control my environment, to make sure I’d never be that scrawny, helpless kid again.
But holding Stella, I realize Aegis was just the prep work.
Protecting her, keeping her safe, giving her a home where she never has to fight alone again is my real life's mission.
My secure com-unit buzzes on the metal desk next to the couch, the harsh vibration breaking the morning quiet.
I freeze, my body instantly going on high alert. Without disturbing Stella, I reach out with one hand and snatch the phone, bringing it to my ear.
"Talk to me, Miller," I rumble low, keeping my voice down so I don't wake my girl.
"Boss, we got a problem," Miller’s quick, urgent tone snaps through the speaker. "I patched through to your main console. The tech team just intercepted encrypted Syndicate communications. They’re burning through our diversionary protocols and tracking our digital footprint way faster than we calculated. They’ve pinpointed your grid. "
My jaw tightens until my teeth ache. The scar slicing down my left eyebrow flares with heat. "How long?"
"Hours. Maybe less," Miller says. "Kai, Atlas, and I are already moving. We’re tracking as many of these Syndicate bastards on the ground as we can, but they’re spreading out. We can't catch all of them before they hit your perimeter."
"Understood. Get here when you can," I say, snapping the line dead.
I gently slide out from under Stella, easing her back onto the cushions. My calm, lethal instinct takes over. I need to move her to the sub-basement panic room, lock down the perimeter steel shutters, and gear up to butcher every single Syndicate hitman that dares step foot on this property.
"Easton?"
Her voice is soft, thick with sleep as she sits up. Her striking green eyes flash with that sharp intelligence I fell in love with. She looks around at the blinking servers and monitors in the command center, taking in my posture immediately. "What's happening?"
"The Syndicate is closing in," I say smoothly, stepping over to the heavy arms locker against the wall. "Miller caught them running a digital trace. They're burning through the dummy servers. I’m putting the house in total lockdown and moving you into the secondary bunker."
"Wait." Stella is off the couch in a flash, her bare feet silent on the cold floor. She marches right up to me as I pull down my heavy body armor. "Show me the data."
I pause, glancing down at her. "Stella, no. I’m handling this. You’re going into lockdown."
"Easton, I'm an investigative journalist, not a delicate glass figurine. I spent six months tracking these monsters’ digital trails." She grabs my forearm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Let me look at the intercept."
"It's technical data," I growl softly, trying to turn her around toward the vault door. Every protective fiber of my body is screaming to tuck her behind steel doors and stand guard outside. "I need you safe."
"Trust goes both ways, Easton," she says, her voice ringing clear and steady in the silent room. She plants her hands on her hips, her full curves outlined in the morning light, her jaw set with absolute defiance. She looks straight into my eyes. "Do you trust me enough to let me help?"
The question hits me right in the chest. I look at Stella, my brilliant, fierce, beautiful woman who has spent her whole life defending herself because no one else would. Refusing her now would be telling her she’s alone again.
I cave instantly.
With a low growl, I grab her waist, hauling her flush against my chest, and slam my mouth down on hers. The kiss is scorching, deep, and possessive, tasting of pure devotion and hot demand. She gasps into my mouth, her hands wrapping around my neck, clinging to me as I claim her completely.
"I trust you with my life, Stella," I whisper against her lips, my voice thick. "Show me what you can do."
She gives me a breathless, triumphant smile and immediately dives toward the main console. Her long chestnut hair is pulled back into a tight braid, which I’ve come to understand is her reporter mode, and her fingers fly across the mechanical keyboard with practiced speed.
I stand behind her, my hands resting lightly on her shoulders, guarding her back while she works.
"Look here," she says after a minute, her green eyes darting across lines of raw hexadecimal code. "They're using a recursive search loop to narrow down our IP node. It’s fast, but it’s rigid. They’re running it on an automated script that re-indexes every sixty seconds."
"Which means?" I ask, leaning down, hypnotized by the sheer brilliance radiating off her.
"Which means if I feed a poisoned data packet into their ping response during the three-second delay between index cycles, it will overwrite their tracking coordinates with a false location ten miles north," she explains, a dark, wicked smirk touching her lips.
"I can blind their digital team and buy us a few more hours. "
A surge of fierce, unadulterated pride swells in my chest. She isn't just a woman I want to protect and spoil for the rest of my life, she is my equal. A brilliant, lethal match for me in every single way.
"Do it, baby," I rumble, pressing a hard kiss to the crown of her head.
Her fingers blur across the keys, building the override code. "Almost... got it... just five more seconds—"
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
A shrill, crimson flash illuminates the entire command center. The silent perimeter sensors on the outer property lines have just tripped.
Stella’s head snaps up to the overhead wall monitors. On the live night-vision feeds showing the dense treeline surrounding the safe house, dark shapes are moving with tactical precision. Dozens of them.
My phone buzzes on the desk. A text from Miller pops up on the lock screen: Intercepted a sub-team, taking them down now. But a main strike force breached your outer perimeter. They’re on you, Easton. We're thirty out.
They didn't wait for the digital confirmation. They sent a sweep squad to physically flush us out.
The time for talk is over.
I calmly reach into the arms locker, pulling out my customized sidearm. I check the action with a grim, deadly calm, racking a heavy round into the chamber with a sharp, satisfying clack.
I turn back to Stella. She’s standing by the console, her chest heaving, watching me with wide eyes. But there’s no terror in her face, only absolute trust in the man standing in front of her.
I step up to her, cupping her face in my large, rough hand, my thumb tracing her jawline.
"Stay right behind this console, sweetheart," I say, my voice dropping into a dark, reassuring promise that leaves zero room for doubt. "I'm going to step outside and end this threat once and for all. No one is taking my woman from me."