Five

Brielle’s POV

Sleep never came.

Not even a blink.

Not after the way he said it.

“I’ll protect you. Even with my life if I have to.”

Desmond’s voice had sunk deep into my bones, stubborn and warm. I’d played it over and over again in my head, like a melody I couldn’t shake off. I wasn’t even sure which unsettled me more—the threat, or the fact that I wanted to be alone with him in the first place.

What kind of person feels turned on after a shooting?

Me, apparently.

I sat on the edge of my bed, already dressed in jeans and a hoodie, trying not to think about how I’d be sharing a house with Desmond for who knows how long.

When I stepped out of my room, the hallway was dim. Quiet. But he was there.

Leaning against the wall in a black long-sleeved shirt, sleeves pushed up, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a coffee cup.

His eyes lifted the moment he saw me.

“You ready?”

I nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah.”

We didn’t say much after that. Paul handed over the SUV keys, and Desmond opened the door for me like he always did—quietly, without comment. Gentlemanly in a way that only made my thoughts worse.

The moment the doors shut, I could feel the tension. It filled the car like smoke.

Two hours in a car with a man I shouldn’t want.

Two hours to pretend like I wasn’t still feeling the echo of his dream-touch on my skin.

I watched him from the corner of my eye as we drove. His profile was sharp in the early light—clean-shaven jaw, slightly furrowed brow, a faint scar near his temple that I never noticed until now.

I shifted in my seat, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He did.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing at me.

I nodded. “Yeah. Just… uncomfortable.”

“Want me to adjust the seat?”

“It’s not the seat.”

That made him pause.

A long moment passed. He didn’t speak, but the corner of his mouth twitched—like he knew exactly what I meant.

He went back to focusing on the road, but I didn’t miss how he tapped his thumb against the wheel. He only did that when he was nervous.

“You ever going to tell me why you joined whatever secret life you and my dad are running from?” I asked quietly.

He glanced at me again, expression unreadable. “One day.”

“Why not today?”

“Because if I tell you now, you’ll look at me different. And I don’t think I could handle that.”

I looked away, heart knocking hard against my ribs.

The rest of the ride was a blur. Trees. Asphalt. Wind. And the growing pull between us.

By the time we reached the house, I was sure I was going to combust from sheer frustration.

The cabin was tucked in deep—clean, simple, and way too intimate. The moment we stepped inside, the air shifted.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Desmond dropped my bag near the stairs. “Room upstairs is yours. I’ll be downstairs.”

“Separate beds? How proper,” I said, before I could stop myself.

He looked at me then. Fully. Slowly.

“I’m trying to be respectful.”

“I didn’t ask you to be.”

That hung there, charged and thick.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But his eyes burned.

My skin heated instantly.

“You’re my best friend’s daughter, Brielle,” he said low, voice tight. “You don’t get it. I’m not just fighting danger out there—I’m fighting myself too.”

I took a step forward. “So stop fighting.”

His jaw clenched. His chest rose and fell.

He turned away, brushing a hand through his hair. “Don’t tempt me right now.”

“I’m not trying to.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Yes, you are. And you don’t even know how good you are at it.”

I didn’t have a response to that. My throat felt dry, and my legs were somehow moving me backward, away from him, before I did something I couldn’t undo.

“I’ll be in my room,” I mumbled, walking toward the stairs.

“Brielle.”

I turned.

He stood at the edge of the hallway, eyes locked on mine.

“If I ever touch you, it won’t be a mistake.”

Then he disappeared into the dark.

I didn’t even make it to the top step before my phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number.

New Message:

You thought hiding in the woods would save her? Cute.

Another buzz.

Another message.

Tick. Tick.

I didn’t even have time to scream before the lights flickered—

—and the front window shattered.