Chapter Eighteen #2
She turns to look at me, her eyes shining—liquid and open, full of things she’s never said out loud.
I squeeze her knee gently, grounding us both, and let the words pour out, low and rough with emotion.
“You are everything to me, Ayla. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I’d move fucking mountains for you.
I’d fight through hell, I’d die for you—without a second thought.
Living in a world without you isn’t something I want to do.
I want every day, every morning, every fucking moment with you.
I want to spend the rest of my life proving just how much you matter. ”
Ayla’s smile is slow and soft, blooming like hope after a long winter.
She slides her hand over mine, fingers weaving tight, and whispers, “I believe you.” Her voice trembles—vulnerable, but strong—and for a second, it feels like the whole world narrows to the space between our hands.
She leans in, pressing her forehead to my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin.
“I never knew love could feel like this. Thank you for not giving up on me.”
We drive the rest of the way home wrapped in a gentle hush, the radio a quiet backdrop to the beating of our hearts, both of us lighter, safer, and more in love than when we left.
Zayn
“Hey, Dean.” I find him out on the porch, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out at the woods. He looks up, and for a second, all that easy confidence he usually wears is gone. “Is everything good here?” I ask, my voice soft, genuinely wanting to know.
Dean stares out at the woods, his voice quiet. “You ever get scared you’re going to fuck it all up?” He doesn’t look at me, but I can hear the vulnerability in his question. “Like… you finally have something good, and you can’t trust it not to be ripped away?”
I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of it. “All the damn time, man. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like if I let myself want too much, the universe will take it back.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I keep thinking I’m not enough for her. Or for you. Like I’m always going to be a step behind, waiting for someone to tell me I’m just… extra.”
I bump his shoulder. “You’re not extra, Dean. You’re the glue. Without you, none of this holds together. Not me, not Ayla, not Alex. You make it feel like home, even when everything else is chaos.”
Dean glances at me, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I just don’t want to be forgotten. Or left behind.”
“Not a chance,” I promise, my voice rough with emotion. “You’re the one person I know will always have my back. I couldn’t do this without you.”
He lets out a breath, shoulders relaxing just a little. “I want her to feel safe. I want all of us to have something good, for once.”
I rest my hand on his, squeezing gently. “We’ll figure it out. Together. And if you ever need to fall apart, I’ll be here to put you back together.”
I slip my arm around Dean’s shoulder, both of us quiet as he sips his coffee and we watch the sun filter through the bare trees.
The silence feels companionable, not awkward, and for a minute it’s just the two of us—no complications, no jealousy, just the comfort.
I can sense the heaviness still lingering in Dean, but he leans into me, letting his head rest briefly against mine.
We sit like that until the familiar crunch of gravel cuts through the stillness.
The Jeep pulls into the drive, leaving tracks in the snow, and Ayla is out before the engine even dies, arms full of bags and a grin splitting her face. “Come on, I wanna show you guys everything,” she calls, her energy infectious. She darts inside, nearly tripping over herself in her rush.
I turn to follow her, but Alex catches my arm, stopping me at the door.
The house is quiet for a moment, the only sound the echo of Ayla’s laughter from inside.
Then Alex holds up his phone, jaw tight, screen alight with a stream of texts—Ayla’s number, Nathan, or Charles, no doubt. The messages read:
Please bring her home.
You have no idea how far we will go to get her back.
I have everything at my disposal, and we will find her.
Alex is suddenly all sharp edges and restless energy, his eyes scanning all our surroundings.
I feel it too—a jolt of cold dread crawling up my spine.
I know the tech is solid: Dean put scramblers on all our phones, rerouted every signal, checks the protocols every night.
They can’t track us. But Dean said himself, men like Charles and Nathan have resources he can’t always predict, and the fear that we’ve slipped up, that somehow we’ve been seen, won’t completely go away.
Dean’s voice cuts through the tension, low but steady. “What now, Alex? We just wait for them to make a move?”
Alex shakes his head, voice tight and urgent. “We aren’t waiting, Dean. We get ready. After dinner, Zayn, you and I will hit town for ammo and supplies. I’m not about to let anyone catch us off guard.”