Chapter 4
Wyatt
Idon’t like bringing trouble into the station.
The station is sacred ground. It’s where we eat, sleep, bleed, and keep each other alive.
It’s where you can be a bastard all day and still trust the guy next to you with your back in a burning hallway.
Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue doesn’t do drama.
We do calls. We do duty. We do the quiet kind of loyalty that doesn’t need an audience.
Ellie changes that the second she steps through the bay doors.
Not because she’s loud. Because she’s Ellie. Because half the station knows her from her chocolate shop, and the other half knows she’s Wade James’s sister, which means the men who don’t have brains know to keep their mouths shut and the men who do have brains know to watch my face.
And I’m not in the mood to be watched.
She’s in my flannel again because she’s stubborn and because she’s still got no clothes, and the sight of her in it flips something possessive low in my gut that I keep locked down with the same discipline I use when a roof is collapsing.
I walk her in front of me anyway, one hand light at the small of her back as we cross the concrete, guiding her without asking.
She stiffens at the touch, then doesn’t move away.
Good.
She looks around the station with her chin up and her eyes too bright. That’s her “I’m fine” face. It’s the face she uses when she’s balancing too much and refusing to set any of it down.
She’s not fine.
The bay smells like diesel and coffee and the faint metallic tang of equipment that’s been cleaned a thousand times. Radios murmur. Someone laughs near the kitchen. The air is warm, dry, safe.
Ellie’s phone is in her hand like a weapon.
“Why are we here?” she asks, quiet but sharp, like she doesn’t want anyone listening.
“Supplies,” I say. “And eyes.”
She turns her head, brows lifting. “Eyes?”
I glance down at her. “You want to pretend you didn’t just have boot prints circling my cabin?”
Her mouth tightens. “I want to pretend you’re not treating me like an emergency.”
I lean in close enough that she feels my breath against her ear. “You are an emergency.”
Ellie’s inhale catches. She looks like she wants to argue, but the words don’t come out clean. She settles for glaring at the concrete.
I guide her toward the storage room. Halfway there, Levi spots us.
Levi is a firefighter in the way a storm is weather.
Loud, relentless, and always in everyone’s business.
He’s sitting on the bench in the common area, boot off, tugging at a sock like it personally offended him.
Sadie sits across from him, elbows on the table, sipping coffee and watching him with the kind of patience that says she’s either deeply in love or planning his murder.
Levi’s gaze flicks up.
He sees Ellie in my flannel.
He sees my hand on her back.
His face lights up with the joy of a man who lives for chaos.
“Well, holy hell,” he says, loud enough that every head in the bay turns. “Cooper’s finally got himself a bride.”
Ellie’s shoulders go rigid. She mutters, “Oh my God.”
I stop and stare at Levi until the room chills a few degrees.
Levi grins wider. “Don’t look at me like that. You brought her here. You wanted attention.”
“I wanted supplies,” I say flatly.
Levi’s eyes flick over Ellie, then back to me. “Supplies. Sure. And the ring is… where? Or are you doing the old-school ‘move her in first’ thing?”
Ellie whips her head toward me like she can’t believe this is happening.
I keep my voice calm. “Levi.”
He holds his hands up. “I’m just saying, if we’re doing a wedding, I’m in charge of the bachelor party.”
Sadie makes a soft sound, half laugh, half warning. “Levi.”
He ignores her, eyes bright. “I got twenty bucks that she stabs him before he makes it to the altar.”
Ellie blinks. “Excuse me?”
Levi points at her like she’s his new favorite person. “I like her. She’s got that look.”
“What look?” Ellie asks, offended.
“The one that says you’re two seconds away from committing a felony,” he says, delighted.
Ellie’s mouth opens. She glances at me, then back at Levi. “I am not.”
Levi nods solemnly. “That’s what they all say right before they do.”
Sadie sets her coffee down with a controlled thunk and turns her gaze on Ellie. Her expression softens in a way Levi’s never managed to earn. Sadie doesn’t do shallow. Sadie sees straight through people like she has X-ray vision and a petty streak.
“Hi,” she says, calm. “You okay?”
Ellie’s smile snaps into place—bright, polite, practiced. “I’m fine.”
Sadie’s eyes narrow slightly. “No, you’re not.”
Ellie’s smile wavers.
Sadie tilts her head, voice lowering like she’s speaking only to Ellie now even though we’re all standing here. “Tell me who he is.”
Ellie’s hand tightens around her phone. Her gaze darts to me like she doesn’t want to answer in front of anyone. Like she’s afraid if she says the name out loud, it becomes real.
I step closer, shoulder angling subtly between her and the room. A shield. A message.
Levi watches, grin fading just a fraction. Because he knows what it looks like when I get serious.
Ellie doesn’t speak.
Sadie’s gaze flicks to me. “Wyatt.”
“She’s safe,” I grind out.
Sadie’s brows lift. “That wasn’t my question.”
“It’s my answer,” I say.
Levi whistles low. “Oh, we’re serious serious.”
Ellie exhales sharply. “We’re not—”
“Ellie,” I cut in, quiet. Not a shout. An order.
Her mouth snaps shut. Her cheeks flush. She looks up at me with eyes that say she hates being handled.
Good. She can hate it while she stays alive.
A door at the back of the station opens.
Captain Saxon Cole steps out.
Saxon doesn’t have to raise his voice to command a room. He’s the kind of man whose presence does it for him—broad shoulders, calm eyes, and a face carved out of discipline. He’s wearing a station tee, sleeves rolled, forearms inked, and he walks like he’s never been uncertain a day in his life.
His gaze lands on Ellie.
Then on my hand still hovering at her back.
Then on my face.
He doesn’t smile.
He doesn’t frown.
He just gives me a look that says he already knows everything I don’t want to say.
“Cooper,” he says.
“Captain,” I answer.
Levi straightens like he wasn’t just running his mouth. “Cap. We got a situation.”
Saxon’s gaze shifts to Levi. “Do we.”
Levi gestures between me and Ellie like he’s presenting a crime scene. “Bride situation.”
Ellie’s head snaps toward Levi. “I am not—”
Saxon’s eyes go to Ellie, calm and assessing. “Ellie James.”
She stiffens. “Captain Cole.”
Saxon nods once. “You look like you haven’t slept.”
Ellie’s chin lifts. “I’m fine.”
Sadie mutters, “She’s not.”
Saxon doesn’t react to the commentary. His gaze flicks to me again. “My office.”
I nod once. “Supplies first.”
Saxon’s brows lift a fraction. “Supplies.”
I don’t blink. “For her.”
Saxon’s gaze drops to the flannel on Ellie’s body, then back to my face, and that look sharpens into something that could almost be amusement if it wasn’t so controlled.
“Five minutes,” he says. “Then my office.”
He turns and walks away like he expects obedience.
He gets it.
I lead Ellie to the storage room, ignoring the way Levi’s eyes follow us like he’s already scripting a group chat. Ellie keeps pace, jaw tight, shoulders tense. She’s trying to look like she doesn’t care, but her hand keeps clenching around her phone like she expects it to explode.
Inside the storage room, the air is cooler, packed with the smell of canvas and metal and antiseptic. Shelves line the walls with first-aid kits, flashlights, batteries, thermal blankets, hand warmers, and spare radios.
Ellie looks around, swallowing. “You’re… stocking me.”
“I’m preparing,” I correct, grabbing a duffel and tossing items in with practiced speed.
“For what?”
“For anything.”
She watches me, eyes narrowing. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing.”
“That… alpha command thing.” She gestures at me like she can’t decide if she hates it or wants to climb me like a tree.
I zip the duffel halfway. “It’s called competence.”
“Mm-hm.” She leans a hip against the shelf, flannel riding up her thigh just enough to make my attention snag. “Do you always pack like you’re planning for the apocalypse?”
I toss in a flashlight. “If it keeps you alive, yes.”
Her mouth tightens. “You keep talking like someone’s going to hurt me.”
I stop long enough to look at her fully. “Someone is.”
Her face goes still.
I step closer, until the storage room feels smaller, until there’s only the two of us and the hum of the fluorescent light. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” I say low. “But you tell me the parts that keep you breathing.”
Ellie’s throat works. “Wyatt…”
My gaze drops to her mouth. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“His name.”
Her eyes flash with anger and fear. “No.”
I hold her stare. “Ellie.”
She shoves off the shelf, stepping into my space like she’s going to fight me with her body if she has to. “I came here because I needed a place to stay,” she snaps. “Not because I wanted to drag your whole firehouse into my mess.”
“My firehouse is my mess,” I say. “My people. My resources. You’re under my roof. That makes you my responsibility.”
Her eyes flare. “I’m not your responsibility.”
I lean in, voice rough, unfiltered. “You’re wearing my shirt, sweetheart.”
Her breath catches. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why?” I murmur. “Because it makes you feel something you don’t want to feel?”
Her cheeks flush. “Because it’s—”
“Because it’s what?” I press.
She swallows hard, eyes flicking away for half a second. “Because you shouldn’t.”
I let a slow breath out, letting my gaze drag down her body again. “You answered a bride ad and walked into my cabin with nothing but a backpack and your pride. We’re past ‘shouldn’t.’”
Ellie’s lips part.
I don’t touch her. I could. I want to. But this isn’t the time. Not with her fear sitting under her skin like a bruise. Not with a threat circling.
I step back and zip the duffel closed. “Thermal blanket. Hand warmers. First-aid. Radio charger. Pepper spray.”
Ellie stares at the pepper spray. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m going to mace you?” she asks, eyebrows raised.
I meet her gaze. “If you try, you better commit.”
Her eyes widen, then she lets out a sharp laugh despite herself. “God. You’re impossible.”
“I’m effective,” I correct.
She rolls her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders loosens a fraction. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I say, stepping past her toward the door, “here you are.”
She follows me out, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “unfortunately.”
The common room is louder now. The whole station is pretending not to stare while absolutely staring. Levi is already holding his phone like a microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, “I am now taking bets on how long before Cooper snaps.”
Sadie smacks Levi’s arm. “Stop.”
He ignores her. “Twenty bucks says he growls the words ‘touch her and die’ by sundown.”
Ellie’s head whips toward him. “He does not talk like that.”
Levi grins. “Oh, he will.”
I shoot Levi a look. He lifts both hands. “Just saying. I’ve seen his face when you walked in.”
Ellie’s cheeks flush again. She glares at me like it’s my fault my face betrayed me.
It is.
Saxon’s office door opens.
He stands in the doorway, gaze steady. “Now.”
I nod and guide Ellie forward. She hesitates for half a beat, then follows, chin lifted like she’s not intimidated.
Good. Saxon respects spine.
Inside the office, it’s cleaner than the rest of the station—file folders, maps, a bulletin board with shift schedules and training reminders. Saxon sits behind the desk without gesturing for us to sit.
Power move.
Ellie stays standing.
I stay standing.
Saxon’s gaze pins me first. “Talk.”
I keep my voice low. “There were boot prints circling my cabin. Not mine. Not hers.”
Ellie’s head snaps toward me. “You told him.”
“I told him what matters,” I say.
Saxon’s gaze shifts to Ellie, then back to me. “Who is she to you?”
Ellie stiffens.
I answer anyway. “She’s under my protection.”
Saxon’s brows lift. “That’s not what I asked.”
I hold his stare. “It’s what I’m giving.”
A beat of silence.
Then Saxon leans back in his chair, eyes hardening with the kind of calm that means he’s thinking operationally. “Does she have a name?”
Ellie’s voice cuts in, sharp. “Ellie.”
Saxon looks at her. “Do you have someone after you?”
Ellie’s smile tries to appear and fails halfway. “No.”
Sadie was right. That smile is a lie.
Saxon’s gaze flicks to me.
I don’t speak.
He watches us for a long moment, then says, “If there’s a threat, we treat it like a threat. You want eyes? You get eyes. Levi will run your perimeter. Sadie will do a drive-by. You call me if anything shifts.”
Ellie’s eyes widen. “You’re just… doing that?”
Saxon’s mouth twitches slightly. “We protect our own.”
Ellie swallows. “I’m not—”
Saxon cuts her off with a calm look. “You’re in our town. You’re in our station. That’s close enough.”
Ellie’s throat moves, emotion flashing across her face so fast she almost hides it.
Then her phone lights up.
The screen glows in her hand like a flare in the dark.
Her face drains of color as she reads.
I don’t have to ask. I already know.
But I do anyway, voice low and lethal. “Ellie.”
She lifts the screen toward me with shaking fingers.
Four words stare back at me, clean and casual, like a man smiling while he twists a knife.
I know where you’re hiding.