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Chapter 46: Planning in the Light
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2025-09-06 23:33:45
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the bodyguard's secret Chapter 48: The Dress Rehearsal
The morning of October 13th dawned crisp and clear, with the kind of autumn light that made everything look like it had been painted in gold and amber. Leo stood at the kitchen window, coffee mug in hand, watching the sunrise paint their garden in shades of honey and fire. In two days, he would be married in that garden, surrounded by the people who mattered most to them.The thought sent a thrill of nervous excitement through him that was becoming familiar. For the past week, he'd been alternating between moments of pure joy and sudden attacks of wedding nerves—not about marrying Silas, never about that, but about being the center of attention, about speaking his vows in front of other people, about the weight of the moment they were about to share."You're thinking too loud again," Silas said, appearing behind him and wrapping his arms around Leo's waist.Leo leaned back into the solid warmth of his fiancé's chest, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and coffee and something ind
the bodyguard's secret Chapter 47: Ghosts and Invitations
The week following their engagement passed in a blur of phone calls, planning sessions, and the kind of giddy excitement that Leo had never experienced before. He found himself humming while he painted, smiling at random moments throughout the day, and catching Silas watching him with an expression of such tender amazement that it made Leo's heart skip beats.They had decided on October 15th as their wedding date—exactly one month from Silas's proposal, long enough to plan properly but not so long that the anticipation would drive them both mad. Harlan had already made two trips down from his town to survey the garden and take measurements, his notebook filled with sketches for what he was calling "the most beautiful wedding arch in the history of Oregon."It was Thursday morning when the first complication arose.Leo was in his studio, working on a new painting inspired by the golden light of their engagement morning, when he heard Silas's phone ring in the workshop. The conversation
the bodyguard's secret Chapter 46: Planning in the Light
The morning after Silas's proposal found them still on the swing, wrapped in a quilt Leo had retrieved from the house as the evening air grew cool. They had talked through the night, their voices soft in the darkness, planning a future that felt both impossible and inevitable. Now, with dawn painting the sky in watercolor pastels, Leo studied the wooden ring on his finger, marveling at how something so simple could feel so transformative. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up," Leo murmured, his head resting against Silas's shoulder. "That this is too good, too perfect to be real." Silas's arm tightened around him, a gesture that had become as natural as breathing over the years. "It's real," he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. "We're real. This is real." Leo turned the ring on his finger, feeling the smooth grain of the wood, the careful craftsmanship that spoke of hours spent in Silas's workshop, planning and carving and sanding until every curve was perfec
the bodyguard's secret Chapter 45: New Foundations
Five Years LaterThe morning light filtered through the gauze curtains of the small art studio, casting dancing shadows across canvases propped against weathered easels. Leo Moretti stood before a half-finished painting, his brush poised in mid-air, studying the interplay of amber and gold that swirled across the canvas like captured sunlight. His hands, once smooth and manicured for Dominic's galas, now bore the honest calluses of creative work and the faint, silvered scars from that final night when purple fire had consumed everything.Five years. Five years since the cabin in the valley, since the quiet mornings on the porch steps, since the slow, careful process of learning to breathe again. The scars had faded, but they remained—not just on his hands, but in the careful way he still checked locks twice, in the way his shoulders tensed when footsteps approached too quickly behind him, in the dreams that sometimes pulled him back to marble floors and champagne flutes that felt like
the bodyguard's secret Epilogue: Anchor in the Quiet
**Three Weeks Later**Sunlight, real and warm, streamed through the window of the small, secluded cabin. It wasn’t the ranger station, nor the Crossroads. It was a place Winters had led them to – a forgotten forestry outpost nestled in a sun-drenched valley miles from the scorched earth of the final battle. Untraceable. Quiet.Leo sat on a worn porch step, his hands wrapped in clean bandages. The burns from the purple fire were healing, thanks to Petrova’s relentless care, but the skin was still tender, pink, and would likely always bear the marks. He watched the sunlight dapple through the aspen leaves, listening to the simple, profound sounds of life: birdsong, the rustle of wind, the distant gurgle of a stream.The screen door creaked open. Silas stepped out, moving slowly, deliberately. He still carried a fragility, a hesitancy in his movements, a shadow in his eyes that hadn't been there before the neural torture and the shattering psychic backlash. But the frantic terror, the co
the bodyguard's secret Chapter 43: The Last Ember
The silence in the ranger station cabin wasn't peaceful. It was the quiet after a bomb blast, thick with the acrid smell of contained dread and Petrova’s antiseptics. Silas lay unnervingly still, his breathing shallow, the blood beneath his nose a dark, dried accusation. Leo hadn’t moved from his vigil at the cot’s side, Silas’s cold hand clasped in his own, as if sheer will could anchor the drifting mind within. The vial pouch sat on the rickety table like a malevolent totem, its faint purple glow seeming to pulse in the dim lantern light.Petrova’s words hung in the air, colder than the mountain drafts seeping through the logs: *"He’ll come for it. The only thing left that was his before the fire."*Harlan finally broke the suffocating quiet. He pushed himself off the wall, his movements stiff, the grief for Mack now overlaid with the grim residue of Shale’s agonizing end and the hospital basement. **>** His voice was gravel. **>**The Ghost stood sentinel
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