Married to my bodyguard のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

The door didn’t just burst open—it detonated inward like it had been kicked with the force of a truck. Cole grabbed me by the waist and yanked me behind an overturned boat just as two men in black stormed into the boathouse, guns raised. I could hear them breathing—short, sharp breaths like they were fueled by adrenaline or orders or both. Cole fired one warning shot. They scattered. The sound exploded in my ears, ricocheting off the wooden walls so violently I felt it in my bones. “Stay down,” Cole whispered. I didn’t stay down. My heart was pounding too loud. My thoughts were a storm I couldn’t quiet. Another shot fired. Someone cursed. The men retreated, just enough for Cole to grab my wrist and pull me toward the back door. We ran. Branches slapped my face. Mud splashed under our shoes. Cole’s grip was iron-tight around my hand, his gun in the other, his breathing fast but determined. We didn’t stop until we reached an abandoned campsite deep in the woods—two torn tents

I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was because of how close Cole had been earlier, the way his breath had brushed my cheek like he was seconds away from doing something we’d never be able to reverse. Or maybe it was because I couldn’t stop replaying every little thing I’d learned in the past forty-eight hours. The photograph. The accusations. The almost-kiss I still felt tingling at the edge of my mouth. Whatever it was, my brain wasn’t shutting off tonight. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan. Outside, the ocean kept doing what oceans do—crashing, sighing, whispering secrets into the night. Cole was still awake, sitting on his side of the room in the armchair near the window. He thought I didn’t notice when he stayed up like this, staring at the world like he was afraid to blink. His silhouette was sharp against the dim moonlight. He sat forward slightly, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. If anyone looked at him they’d think he was carved out of something

The name glowing on the phone screen made my stomach drop through the floor. Cole didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. His forehead stayed pressed lightly to mine, but the warmth in him turned into something cold, sharp, protective. “Ariana,” he murmured, voice low, “don’t answer that.” I swallowed hard. “It’s my dad.” “I know.” His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, steadying me. “And you’re shaking again.” I didn’t realize I was until he said it. My hands trembled at my sides, fingers curling into my palms. My heart beat so fast I felt it in my throat. Cole reached past me and picked up the phone before I could. The call kept buzzing. Each vibration felt like a punch. “What if something’s wrong?” I whispered. He didn’t look away from the screen. “There’s nothing your father needs that requires calling you at two in the morning.” “How do you know?” “Because he’s been radio silent for weeks,” Cole said quietly. “And men like him don’t break silence unless

The cottage door slams shut behind Cole, the sound echoing like a gunshot in my chest. He’d shoved me down the narrow hallway toward the bedroom before I could argue, practically ordering me to lock the door. I obeyed, even though every instinct screamed to stay with him. But when Cole Maddox says something in that command-thick voice, my body listens before my brain can protest. Now I’m sitting on the floor behind the bed, knees pulled to my chest, listening to the muffled chaos outside: footsteps, a low curse, the scrape of something heavy being dragged across the ground. Then silence. Dangerous silence. My pulse is a stampede. I keep waiting for the door to burst open, for a masked man to tower over me, for the nightmare to continue. But instead there’s… nothing. No footsteps. No voices. Nothing but the pounding of my own heart. Then my phone vibrates. I jump so violently I nearly scream. Somehow, I manage to fumble it out of my pocket. The screen lights up my t

My hands shake so violently I almost drop the phone. The picture fills the whole screen—blurry, grainy, but unmistakably me. Sitting on the bed earlier tonight. Hair undone. Shoulders bare. Vulnerable. Taken from outside the window. Someone was that close. Someone was watching. My breath catches on a strangled noise. I slap a hand over my mouth, terrified Cole will hear. The message below the photo is shorter, colder, somehow worse: "He’s lying to you." A chill spreads through me from the inside out. I close the phone and grip it tight in both hands, like squeezing it will stop the panic from exploding. But it doesn’t. It only grows. Someone is out there. Right now. Maybe still watching. Maybe waiting for Cole to step away from me for just long enough— I hear footsteps. Cole. He reappears in the doorway, expression unreadable. “You ready to talk?” he asks. I shove the phone into my pocket so fast it hurts my hip. “Not yet.” “Ariana…” His voice is lo