11 Asher #2
Declan’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Scarlett isn’t cargo.”
“No one said she was,” I snap back immediately, but now all of us are thinking it.
Roman walks closer to the monitor showing Scarlett downstairs.
The room falls quiet again. Downstairs on the monitor, Scarlett laughs softly at something Hannah says.
Completely innocent. Completely unaware that there is more working against us here.
“Something still doesn’t add up.”
Declan looks over sharply. “What?”
“If Scarlett really is Angel… why would there be a bounty out on her life?”
Roman’s brow furrows instantly. I stand from the chair and start pacing slowly across the office.
“Someone offered a payout to have her killed,” I say. “Not kidnapped. Not retrieved. Killed.”
Grant stays silent through the speaker, listening.
“But at the same time,” I continue, “someone connected to the dirty side of Vale Enterprises has gone through extreme lengths to keep her alive.” Roman nods slowly now, seeing the contradiction too.
“Safe houses,” he mutters. “Security reroutes. Intercepts.”
“Resources,” I add. “Money. Personnel.” Declan’s jaw tightens as he stares at Scarlett on the monitor downstairs.
“That’s not protection for some random girl.”
“No,” Grant says quietly through the speaker. “It isn’t.”
A cold feeling settles over the room, the situation feels even worse. Like there are multiple sides fighting over Scarlett for completely different reasons.
“One faction wants her dead,” Roman says slowly.
“And another needs her alive,” I finish.
Declan drags a hand over his jaw, frustration and anger rolling off him in waves.
“Why?” he asks.
No one answers, because none of us know.
My eyes shift back to Scarlett downstairs.
She smiles politely at Hannah while reaching for a piece of fruit from the bowl sitting on the table.
I will find out though and soon. I will do whatever it takes to make sure she is safe and kept out of the hands of these people.
Roman and I leave the office and head toward the kitchen while Declan stays behind to continue going through the files Grant sent over.
The second we step out of that room; the tension eases slightly.
Roman immediately starts preparing dinner while I grab plates and ingredients from the fridge to help him.
Cooking has always been his thing. Even growing up, he was usually beside Mom in the kitchen while the rest of us were outside fighting or breaking something.
Tonight he’s making Tuscan chicken stuffed shells topped with homemade alfredo sauce.
The smell alone is enough to make me hungry.
I swear living back home has me needing to work out twice as hard because Roman cooks like we’re trying to feed an army every night.
Honestly? It’s nice. After Mom died, Pops never really cooked again.
I don’t think he could stand being in the kitchen without her.
We survived on takeout, frozen dinners, and whatever cheap food we could shove in the microwave.
Then we enlisted, and meals became whatever fit inside a pack or came sealed in military plastic.
This?
Fresh food. Real food. Loud kitchens and crowded counters. It feels like pieces of our old life stitched together badly but still holding somehow. Roman slides cooked chicken into a bowl before handing me the cutting board.
“Dice the spinach.”
“Yes, chef.”
“Keep talking and I’ll make you eat frozen waffles instead.”
I snort softly and start chopping while he works on the homemade stuffing mixture for the shells.
From the dining room, Scarlett’s voice drifts faintly into the kitchen.
At first, I try not to pay attention. Then I hear the word prom. My movements slow slightly.
“You’re really missing all of that, huh?” Hannah asks gently.
Scarlett lets out a small laugh, but there’s sadness underneath it.
“I mean… yeah.” A pause. “I didn’t think I cared that much before all this happened, but now it’s like every normal thing got ripped away overnight.” Something tight twists unexpectedly in my chest.
“I don’t really miss school, and I really didn’t have many friends other than Harper. I am sure I am going to miss graduation.” She sighs.
Roman glances toward me briefly but says nothing.
I keep my eyes on the cutting board even though my thoughts are somewhere else entirely.
Prom. Graduation. Normal teenage things.
Things she should be worried about instead of safe houses, guns, and people trying to kill her.
Maybe we can still give her pieces of it somehow.
A moment where she gets to feel like a normal girl instead of a target.
The thought settles heavier in my chest than I expect.
Then suddenly—
The back door flies open. Roman and I react instantly, both of us pull our guns from behind our backs and aim directly toward the doorway in one smooth motion.
“Jesus Christ,” a familiar voice says. “Rambo One and Rambo Two, it’s just me.”
Harper strolls inside carrying two shopping bags like she owns the damn house. Completely unbothered by the fact we almost shot her. Roman lowers his weapon first with an irritated sigh.
“One day,” he mutters, “you’re gonna announce yourself before barging in.”
Harper kicks the door shut behind her with her foot. “And ruin the dramatic entrance? Absolutely not.” I holster my gun slowly while she grins at both of us. Then her eyes narrow slightly as she studies our expressions.