Chapter 18
ASHER
The morning sun creeps through the blinds, but it does nothing to warm the ice lodged in my chest. My head pounds as I stare at the security feeds, the grainy footage looping mindlessly. I haven’t slept, haven’t stopped moving since I left that room.
Since I left them.
I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension, but it lingers, pressing into my bones like a weight I can’t set down. My shift ended hours ago, but I didn’t hand it over. I needed something—anything—to keep me from thinking about what happened last night.
What I did.
What I want.
The perimeter’s secure. No sign of Whitmore’s men, no new threats, no excuse for me to still be here, but I don’t move. I stare at the monitors, watching nothing, letting the flickering screens drown out the thoughts clawing at the back of my mind.
But they creep in, anyway.
Mia is above me, her entire weight on me but she feels practically featherless. Her body writhing, her gasps, the way she gave in so easily, so willingly.
Zane, watching. Touching. Wanting.
I rub my hand over my jaw, exhaling sharply. Fucking hell.
It should’ve been a mistake. I should feel regret, but I don’t. Not the way I should.
I think about the way Zane looked at her. How it wasn’t just sex for him. How it wouldn’t just be sex if it happened again. How easy it would be to say yes to more.
That’s the part that scares me the most.
I hear movement behind me—someone walking into the room—but I don’t turn around. I already know who it is.
Mia.
She doesn’t say anything at first, just hovers near the doorway. I can feel her eyes on me, waiting. I don’t look at her.
“You didn’t sleep,” she says.
“Didn’t need it,” I mutter, clicking through the security feeds, even though I already know there’s nothing new.
Mia doesn’t buy it. She steps closer, and I catch a hint of her scent—something soft, something familiar—and it wrecks me all over again.
She exhales. “Asher—”
“Don’t.” My voice is rough, edged with something I don’t want to name. I finally look at her, and fuck, that’s a mistake. She’s standing there, arms crossed, her expression unreadable, but her eyes… they still hold last night in them.
She’s still thinking about it.
I clench my fists, trying to anchor myself to something solid, but it’s no use. She’s standing too close, looking at me like she’s waiting for me to admit something I can’t.
So I do what I do best. I shut down.
“Mom, we need you!” Emma calls out.
“You should go,” I say, my voice flat. “Emma’s calling for you.”
Mia’s lips press together, but she doesn’t argue. She just nods, her disappointment like a physical thing in the air between us.
She turns to leave, but turns around at the last second. “You can tell them apart so easily. People can never do that, you know?”
With that, she’s gone.
From my seat in the security room, I hear Emma’s voice filtering in from the kitchen, high-pitched and full of excitement.
“Damon!” Emma chirps. “We were looking for you.”
“What’s up, kiddo?” Damon goes.
I shut my eyes. I was so jealous when I saw him with Mia that day. I thought that if I could just have her once, it could make this ugly feeling in my chest go away. But that’s not the truth. And it gives me all the answers I need to have about her.
I have feelings for her. And the worst part? So do my friend and my boss.
I can’t do this. It’s insane.
Despite myself, I can’t help but tune back into Ella’s babbles. She’s telling Damon some elaborate story about her stuffed bear’s adventures—something about it being a spy bear with laser eyes and a jetpack. Damon plays along, his deep chuckle rolling through the house like it belongs there.
Like he belongs here.
Even though I can’t see them, I can imagine the casual intimacy of it. Him sitting at the table with her, nodding in all the right places, pretending to be fascinated by a child’s imagination—it makes my chest ache in a way I don’t like to examine.
I rub a hand over my face and reach for my phone. A distraction. Something to pull me out of my own head.
The screen lights up. A notification from my inbox that says, “Dubai contract—Final Signature Required.”
I stare at the words, letting them settle. Five days. Five days until I leave.
It should be a relief. It should feel like an escape.
Instead, I glance back toward the kitchen, toward the laughter and warmth bleeding into the space I’ve tried so hard to keep cold.
And I wonder why the hell I don’t feel like running anymore.
Suddenly, the security alert pings softly, which can mean only one thing. Motion detected at the lake’s edge.
I straighten, my pulse kicking up. Probably just a deer or some other wildlife, but something makes me zoom in on the feed. The mist hangs low over the water, swallowing the shoreline in gray. Nothing moves.
I grab my gun, moving swiftly through the house. Damon and Zane are occupied, and Mia went upstairs with the girls. No time to alert anyone. If someone’s out there, I need to know how they got this close.
Stepping outside, the cool morning air does nothing to ease the tension rolling down my spine. My boots barely make a sound on the damp earth as I make my way toward the lake, eyes scanning, ears listening.
But then I see them. Boot prints. Fresh.
A chill snakes down my spine.
Then—a sharp crack. A bullet tears through the air.
I dive before my brain can process the trajectory, rolling into cover behind a fallen log. Too damn close.
The shot came from the tree line on the west side. Someone’s testing us.
Did Jason find us again? How? We swept for trackers. We ditched the phones.
Rage coils tight in my chest. I press against the log, steadying my breathing, aiming my gun toward the source of the shot. Whoever it is, they don’t get to walk away from this.
They just made their last mistake.
I follow the footsteps through the brush, keeping low, my gun ready. The trail is fresh, the weight distribution deep. Whoever I’m tracking is moving slow, probably carrying something heavy.
Another step, and the rustle of branches ahead.
I raise my weapon as a figure emerges from the trees, hands raised in immediate surrender. He’s older, dressed in a weathered camo jacket with an orange vest over it. A rifle is slung over his shoulder, and at his feet lies a freshly killed deer.
“This is private property,” I snap, keeping my gun pointed at him.
“Easy, buddy.” The man’s voice is rough but calm. “Didn’t see any signs posted. Just tracking my deer. Didn’t mean to spook you.”
My adrenaline is still running high, but I take a breath, forcing myself to reassess. He’s got the look of a regular hunter: grizzled, gray at the edges. Not military. No tactical gear, no secondary weapon visible. Just a guy in the woods.
Still, I don’t lower my gun. “What are you hunting with a damn rifle that loud?”
He jerks his chin toward the deer. “That’s a clean kill. Dropped her fast. Didn’t expect to run into anyone out here.” He eyes me carefully. “You new to these parts?”
I don’t answer.
“Won’t bother you again,” he says after a moment, keeping his hands up. “Just needed to grab my kill.”
I hesitate, then lower my weapon. My pulse still thrums under my skin, but if this guy were working for Jason, he’d have put up a fight. And if he were scouting for information, he wouldn’t be dragging a damn deer.
“You need help loading it?” I ask flatly.
Surprise flickers in his eyes, but he nods. “Wouldn’t say no.”
I shoulder part of the deer’s weight as we haul the carcass toward his truck. It’s an old beat-up thing, coated in layers of dried mud. No suspicious gear in the bed. No surveillance equipment. I’m still running through possibilities, but nothing about him feels off.
I point at the deer blind I can see a couple of hundreds of feet away. “That yours?”
He shrugs. “This used to be a popular hunting place until it kind of dropped off the face of the earth. You’ll find a lot of these around. Not mine, though.”
I nod.
“You like venison?” the hunter asks as we heave the deer up. “I’d be happy to bring some by next time I pass through.”
I shake my head. “Appreciate it, but we’re good.”
He nods, tipping his hat. “Take care, then.”
By the time I get back to the cabin, the weight in my gut hasn’t settled. The hunter’s story checks out, but the timing is too damn convenient. I’ll need to go over the perimeter again, maybe set up extra sensors near the tree line.
I push through the back door, toeing off my boots when I hear Mia’s sharp intake of breath.
“What happened?” Her eyes are on my shirt—smeared with streaks of dark red, staining the fabric across my torso.
“Nothing,” I say, already moving toward the sink.
“Obviously, something did.”
“It’s not my blood.”
“That doesn’t make it better, Asher.”
I turn on the faucet, rinsing my hands as the water runs red. “I’ll discuss it with Damon,” I say tersely. “Otherwise, it’s handled.”
Mia presses her lips together, her arms folding across her chest. “Sure. You do that.”
Her voice is colder than I expect, and she doesn’t wait for an explanation. Just turns and strides out of the kitchen, her steps firm but stiff, like she’s holding back words she wants to say.
Damon walks in a second later, his sharp gaze flicking over my shirt. “That yours?” He gestured to the blood.
“No.”
His jaw tightens. “Jason’s?”
“No.” I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “Some hunter wandered onto the property, claimed he was tracking a deer. I made sure he wasn’t a threat.”
Damon watches me carefully. He knows there’s more.
Mia’s footsteps fade upstairs, and I glance at the doorway she disappeared through.
“She’s pissed at you,” Damon remarks, not bothering to hide his amusement.
I grab a clean rag and wipe my hands. “Yeah, no shit.”
Damon leans against the counter, arms crossed. “You gonna tell me why, or do I have to guess?”
I toss the rag aside. “She doesn’t like being left out.”
His lips quirk up, but his eyes stay sharp. “And you keep shutting her out.”
“I keep her safe.” I press my palms against the sink, exhaling through my nose. “That’s the job.”
Damon scoffs. “The job.” He studies me, his gaze unreadable. “That why you’re running off to Dubai in a few days?”
I go still. “Who told you?”
“Nobody had to.” His smirk fades. “You don’t think I notice when one of my own is pulling away?”
I shake my head, grabbing a clean shirt from the back of a chair and yanking it over my head. “It’s a good job. Pays well.”
Damon doesn’t look convinced. “You think putting an ocean between you and Mia is gonna change anything?”
“Doesn’t have to change anything,” I mutter.
Damon steps closer, lowering his voice. “Bullshit.”
I meet his gaze, jaw tight.
Damon exhales sharply, running a hand down his face. “Look, whatever’s going on between you, her, and Zane…” He trails off, shaking his head. “This isn’t the time to self-destruct.”
I huff a bitter laugh. “Maybe the time for that passed a long time ago.”
Damon’s eyes darken. “You leaving won’t protect her from Jason.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you running?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have an answer.
Damon curses under his breath, shaking his head. “Fine. But at least help me figure out how Jason keeps finding us before you disappear.”
I nod, grateful for the change of subject. “Already planning on it.”
But as I follow Damon into the security room, my mind isn’t on Jason. It’s on Mia. On the way she looked at me before walking away.
And how I might regret letting her go more than anything else.