4 Asher #2
Ho bisogno che tu mi mandi una recluta donna.”
I need a female recruit on the ground with me.
I can’t be everywhere at once while she’s at school, and after what happened today, there’s no fucking way I’m letting her get cornered like that again.
By the time we pull into the driveway of my house, Scarlett is asleep against the passenger window.
Exhaustion has completely taken over her.
Carefully, I unbuckle her seatbelt and lift her into my arms, trying not to wake her.
She instinctively curls closer against my chest the second I pick her up, and something tightens painfully inside me.
Roman and Declan apparently arrived about ten minutes ago because when I walk inside, both of them are unpacking takeout containers across the massive kitchen island.
Roman looks up first.
“What the hell happened?” he asks quietly when he notices the blood staining Scarlett’s hairline.
“Bathroom incident at school,” I mutter darkly.
Declan’s expression instantly hardens. I carry Scarlett into the living room and carefully lay her down on the couch before pulling a blanket over her. She barely stirs. Poor fucking girl must be exhausted.
“Make me a plate of that while you’re at it,” I say as I head back toward the kitchen. “All I’ve had today is a damn muffin, and I’m starving.”
The kitchen was probably my favorite room in the house, though I’d never admit that shit out loud to my brothers.
Most people expected some cold, sterile bachelor setup when they walked into a place owned by former military operatives, but this house—especially this room—was different.
It actually felt lived in. Warm. Real. Dark walnut floors stretched throughout the open space while matte black cabinets lined the walls all the way to the ceiling.
Soft amber lighting glowed beneath them, casting shadows across the black marble countertops veined with streaks of gold and white.
Two oversized islands sat in the middle of the room, usually covered in takeout containers, weapons, paperwork, or whatever Roman decided to cook when he felt like showing off his other perfect skill.
The kitchen was expensive as hell, but not because we cared about appearances.
When we got the contract and realized we needed to get close to the Vales, Grant bought the property next door.
Ironically, the house originally belonged to Scarlett’s grandfather and somehow hadn’t been included in the will, almost like this house was planned for something or someone.
The attorney handling the estate allowed Grant to purchase it quickly, and within days we had the place completely modified for security and surveillance.
Every inch of the house was designed for functionality first.
The kitchen had industrial-grade appliances, hidden compartments large enough to conceal half an armory, and sight lines that allowed you to see every entrance and exit from almost anywhere in the room.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the woods behind the property, though most nights all you saw reflected back was the warm lighting and men too dangerous to ever fully relax.
“This assignment getting to you, fratino?” Declan asks with a slight smirk as he slides a plate in front of me loaded with cotolette and pasta al burro e parmigiano.
Roman sets a large bowl of salad beside it while I grab a few slices of warm bread and pour olive oil onto a small plate.
“You guys have no idea,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face before taking a bite. “There’s definitely something seriously wrong in that house.”
Roman leans against the counter.
“You think the father’s involved?” I shake my head slowly.
“I honestly don’t know yet. My gut tells me the stepmother and stepsister are behind most of it, but Thomas Vale…” I sigh. “I can’t read him yet. Either he genuinely has no idea what’s happening under his roof, or he’s choosing not to see it.”
“Either way, he’s failing her,” Declan mutters darkly.
I glance toward the living room where Scarlett is still asleep.
“I don’t want her going back there,” I admit quietly. “But convincing her to stay here isn’t gonna be easy.”
“What did she say on the way here?” Roman asks.
“Nothing, she fell right asleep in the car, but last night I brought up moving in after what happened, and she shut it down immediately.” I stab my fork into the pasta harder than necessary. “I think part of the problem is she doesn’t know us. To her, we’re basically strangers.”
“And she would be living in a house with three men she barely knows,” Roman points out carefully.
I hate that he’s right.
“She’s scared,” I mutter.
“Then we make her comfortable,” Declan says simply. “Does she know what we do, who we are?”
“She knows Grant started a firm, but she doesn’t know the logistics.”
“Then tell her,” Roman says firmly. “Tell her what we do. Tell her she’s safe here.”
Declan nods toward the living room.
“Because after whatever the hell happened to her in that bathroom today, she needs to understand one thing.”
His voice turns deadly calm.
“Nobody touches her in this house or wherever we are.”
I know Scarlett is going to be absolutely furious with me for this, but I call a moving company anyway and arrange for them to pack up everything from her room.
I want every single thing moved out of that house and into mine by tomorrow night.
If she’s going to stay here, then I’m making damn sure she actually has a home.
There’s a knock at the front door, and Roman gets up to answer it.
Before he can even say hello, Harper shoves past him and strolls straight into the kitchen like she owns the place before dropping onto one of the bar stools. She tosses me the keys to my bike.