Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ashland
I wake before dawn like I always do, but this time there's warmth pressed against me. Bianca's curled into my side, one hand resting on my chest, her breathing slow and even.
Christ , I could watch her sleep for hours.
But I've got shite to do today, and the sooner I handle it, the sooner I can get back to her.
She’s here now. She’s safe.
I press a kiss to her temple, gentle as I can manage. “I have to go,” I murmur against her skin. “Just for a little while, but I promise you're safe here.”
Being home, surrounded by family, by people I trust with my life, I can finally breathe properly.
The tension I've been carrying for weeks uncoils from my shoulders.
Out at the cabin, it was just me between her and the world.
Here, I've got my cousins, my brothers. Here, she's protected by more than just me.
“Where are you going?” Her voice is sleepy, soft.
“I've got training with Cavin. Put it off for a while, but—” I shrug. “I promised. And I have a little research to do while I'm out.”
Research . That's one word for it. What I really need to do is track down every last detail about Marcus Crowning's movements, his connections, his weaknesses. Need to know exactly what kind of threat we're dealing with before I eliminate it, eliminate him , permanently.
But she doesn't need to know that yet. Not when she's finally starting to trust me, to smile at me like she did last night.
“Alright,” she says, and I kiss the softness of her cheek because I can't help myself.
“Christ, it's hard to leave you. I love having you here,” I murmur, nuzzling into her, breathing her in. She wraps her arms around me, or tries to, anyway, her small hands barely spanning my back, and kisses the top of my head.
The gesture breaks something open in my chest.
“God, woman…” I half groan. “Don’t be so fucking sweet. It's hard enough to leave you.”
“Come back to me then,” she whispers. “Will you?”
I kiss her thoroughly .
When did I become her safe place? When did she stop flinching away from me and start reaching for me instead? I don't know the exact moment, but I know I'll spend the rest of my life earning that trust, that softness she's started to show me.
“I can see you thinking,” I tell her, because I can. Every emotion plays across her face, as if she's reading aloud. “You think out loud. It's the cutest thing.”
“Do I?” She smiles, then actually laughs, and the sound makes my chest tight.
I brush a strand of hair from her eyes, then push myself up on my hands. The sheet falls away, and I know she can see how hard I am for her. Again.
“You really are attracted to me, aren't you?” she says, teasing, the corners of her lips quirking up. “You think I'm pretty.”
Pretty? Pretty ?
“Did you just call yourself pretty ?” My cock throbs, demanding attention I can't give it right now. “Just told you I have to go, and you’re trying to delay me by making me punish you again?”
“Hey,” she says, shy yet bold at the same time, as if she wants to push me, but it still makes her a wee bit nervous. Fucking adorable. I can see her pulse jumping in her throat. “I did. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Problem?” I wrap my fingers in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to make her gasp. “Aye, lass. That's the understatement of the year. You're fuckin’ gorgeous.”
I punctuate each word with kisses to her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat, where I want to bite, mark, claim.
“I suppose I'm cute ,” she says, deliberately pushing me. The little brat.
“ Cute ?” My voice drops low, dangerous. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, darlin'. Keep it up, and I'll turn that arse pink while you're tellin' me all the ways you're more than just cute .”
“What?” She's trying to sound innocent, but her thighs press together, and I know exactly what that means. “What's so wrong about that?”
“It's one step away from being derogatory,” I say, going stern because she responds to it, gets wet for it.
“Alright, okay, whatever,” she says, sass dripping from every word.
That does it.
I grab both her wrists, loop my fingers around them, and pin her to the headboard above her head. She's completely at my mercy, and we both know it.
“That's it,” I tell her. “I’m out of time, and you know it. So when I get home tonight, you are gettin’ it.”
“Oh, really?” Her eyes are bright, challenging. “Is that supposed to scare me? ”
“My god, I don't even have the ability to scare you anymore,” I say, though my heart's soaring. “Did I lose my edge?”
“Little bit.” She smirks.
“Well then, it seems Cavin may have to wait while I teach you some manners.” I lift her in one smooth motion, then bring my palm down on her arse with a satisfying crack.
She squeals, and I cover her mouth with mine, swallow the sound, and kiss her until we're both breathless.
“Later,” I rasp against her lips. “Later, you and I have a date, don't we?”
She nods. “A date.”
I don’t want to leave her.
“You go downstairs and get something to eat. Aunt Caitlin's been dying to feed you. And I have a feeling my cousins are eager to get to know you a little better, aren't they?”
She sighs. “I will, but… I’m not super social , Ashland.”
“I know,” I say, kissing her cheek again because I can't stop touching her. “And I promise, when this is over, you don't have to be. You can be as social or as antisocial as you wish. Deal?”
“Deal,” she says.
“Good. Okay. ”
“Okay. Then take care of yourself or whatever,” she tells me, trying to sound casual, when I can see the concern in her eyes.
I tug a lock of her hair possessively. “Alright. Get on with you before I can't help myself any longer… pin you to this bed, and take you again.”
“Go.” She pokes me in the ribs. “You have things to do.”
I groan and adjust myself as I climb out of bed, cursing under my breath. “Thank you for that too.”
I can feel her watching as I dress. I catch her staring in the mirror's reflection and have to force myself not to climb back into bed with her.
Training with Cavin. Research on Marcus. That's what I'm doing today.
Then I'm coming back to her.
***
The indoor gym smells like sweat and leather… home. It was my sanctuary when I was stalking Bianca, the years I’ve spent here exorcising demons and training for what’s next.
Cavin's already here, wrapping his hands when I walk in. He looks up and grins. “Well, well. The ghost finally appears. Thought you'd gone soft on us, cousin.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, but there's no heat in it. I’m holding back a smile.
“Brought your girl home then?” He ties off the wrap and tests his fist. “Family seems to like her well enough. Mam won't stop going on about how sweet she is, how polite.”
“Aye,” I say, starting my own wraps. Left hand first, the familiar ritual calming me. “She's perfect.”
“She know you're planning to murder her ex-fiancé?”
I pause mid-wrap and meet his eyes. “More or less.”
“You gonna tell her before or after?”
“After,” I say flatly. “Can't have her trying to stop me.”
Cavin laughs, short and sharp. “Fair enough.”
“You’d do the same.”
“That I would.”
My hands are shaking now, the rage I've been keeping locked down threatening to surface. “So aye, he fucking deserves it.”
“Then let's make sure you're ready.” Cavin moves to the heavy bag and holds it steady. “Come on then. Show me what you've got.”
I don't hold back.
Every punch is Marcus Crowning's face. Every kick is six years of watching her, wanting her, and not being able to touch her. Every combination is the fury of knowing he had his hands on her, that he planned to hurt her, that he thought he could take what's mine .
“Christ, Ash.” Cavin grunts after a particularly vicious series. “Save some for the actual fight, yeah?”
I'm breathing hard, sweat dripping down my spine. “When?”
“How long you think it’ll take before we have what we need? Before he retaliates?”
“Week, maybe two, reckon.”
Two weeks. I can wait two weeks. I've waited six years for her.
“And the research?” Cavin asks. “What do you need?”
“Everything on Marcus Crowning. His movements, his men, his weaknesses. I want to know every place he's vulnerable, especially anything involving Francesca.”
“Already started.” Cavin pulls out his phone and scrolls through it. “Declan's been tracking him. He's got a pattern—seems he visits his accountant every Tuesday, then stops at the same coffee shop after. Alone.”
I frown. “Tuesday's too soon. Need more time to prepare.”
“So we watch him. Learn his habits. Make sure that when you face him, you know exactly how to break him.” Cavin's grin is sharp, feral. “This is what you're good at, cousin. This is who you are.”
Aye. This is who I am .
And Bianca, my sweet, innocent Bianca, with her bright eyes and soft smiles, is mine to protect, mine to keep.
And Marcus Crowning is a dead man walking.
“Come on,” I say, moving toward the ring in the corner. “Let's go another round. I need to be faster, stronger. Need to make sure when the time comes, I don't just beat him.”
“What then?”
“I destroy him.” I climb between the ropes, then raise my wrapped fists. “Completely.”
Cavin follows, bouncing on his toes. “That's what I like to hear.”
We spar for over an hour, and he lands a few good hits. Cavin's always been quick, but I'm driven by something beyond skill or training.
I'm driven by her .
Every time he connects, I think of Bianca's smile. Every time I block, I remember her laugh. Every time I land a devastating combination, I see her face when she called herself pretty, when she started to believe what I've known all along.
“Mercy, brother,” Cavin finally calls, breathing hard. “Christ, you're a machine today, and Seamus will finish us both off if we draw blood.”
I'm barely winded. The rage fuels me, keeps me going .
“Need to check on something,” I tell him, unwrapping my hands. “Declan’s got those files on Crowning?”
“In the office. Declan's there now, updating the surveillance logs.”
Perfect. I grab a bottle of water and head in.
I find Declan hunched over a laptop, three monitors displaying different camera feeds. He looks up when I enter and nods.
“Ash. Cavin fill you in?”
“Aye. Show me what you've got.”
He pulls up a folder and starts clicking through images. Marcus Crowning leaving his penthouse. Marcus at a restaurant. Marcus getting into a black sedan.
“He's predictable,” Declan says. “Same routines every week. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he meets with his bookkeeper. Wednesdays, he's at his club downtown. He visits some woman—we think she’s a mistress—on Fridays.”
Of course he does, the fuckin’ prick.
“Security?”
“Always two men. Sometimes three on Fridays.” Declan zooms in on one image. “Ex-military, maybe competent, but gone lazy with his predictable route.”
I study the photos, memorizing every detail. The way he walks with false confidence. The designer suits that can't hide the cruelty in his eyes. The smile he wears like a mask.
Those hands that fucking touched my woman.
This is the man who wanted to marry Bianca. Who planned to hurt her, kill her, and make her another statistic.
I will make him scream for mercy.
“Keep watching him,” I say quietly. “I want to know everything. Who he talks to, where he goes, what he eats for breakfast. Everything.”
“Right.”
I find Bianca in the kitchen with Caitlin and my cousins, laughing at something Kyla said. She's wearing a bathrobe over her pajamas, her hair still in a messy bun, and she's never looked more beautiful.
She sees me in the doorway, and her whole face lights up.
“Ashland!”
I cross the room in three strides, pull her into my arms, and kiss her like I've been gone for days instead of hours.
“Alright, alright.” Bronwyn laughs. “Ashland, who are you?”
I flip her off without looking, too busy breathing in Bianca's scent and feeling her heartbeat against my chest.
“Miss me?” I murmur against her hair .
“Maybe a little,” she admits, soft and shy.
“Liar.” I kiss her again. “You missed me a lot.”
“Fine. I missed you a lot.”
Christ, I love this woman.
I love her so much it terrifies me.