Protecting What's His Novels & Stories

She said truly as she can hear the wolf growls from the other side of the staircase. “I know, Baby girl. Try to control yourself. Think of those werewolves as your enemies who are trying to separate you from your mate. Look, you’re strong. They can’t do anything to you if you decided to protect yourself from them. Do you remember, I told you once that I’ll be having something precious inside my car? That’s you, my precious. I’ll protect my precious possession. Leave the past, baby girl. We are not fighting for the past. We are fighting for our future which they are trying to snatch from us. I’ll protect you, baby girl, no matter what. But, I need your help with that. I can’t fight with them

she said. He turned back to her. His eyes were sharp. Tired. Human. “I have lost people,” he said. “Not slowly. Not gently. When something threatens what is mine, I eliminate the threat.” Lillian’s breath caught. “I am not yours.” The sentence hung there, heavy and undeniable. Nathaniel did not argue it. “That is the problem,” he said. “I do not know how to protect something that does not belong to me. I only know how to guard assets, territory, responsibility.”

"They're not that different," I said. "They are entirely different," he said. "Protecting is about stopping you from doing things. Making sure you have water is about making sure you're resourced while you do them." He held the wheel. "I'm not stopping you from anything. You are going to find my brother, using your power and Mira's knowledge and Elara's expertise, in what is possibly a trap, while pregnant." He looked at the road. "I am going to make sure you have water. These are separate things."

I said, my voice cutting through the silence, “don’t bother covering for me or protecting me. I can speak for myself.” He set the glass down, leaning forward slightly. The movement was subtle, but it carried weight. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Rose.” His words were measured, deliberate. “I wasn’t protecting you. I was protecting my property,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “And you would do well to remember that.” “Do you know what other owners do to their properties? People like you!”

On the day the kidnappers killed my son, I did not cry. I paid top dollar for the best lawyer in the city to argue that the kidnapper was innocent. And once he was free, I signed ten percent of my shares over to him. I also gave him the house my son had loved most. My husband, Alex Thomas, slapped me in front of the press. He called me a cold-blooded monster. People on social media boycotted my company and demanded my family kick me out. I endured every insult and every attack in silence. At the review hearing, I looked at my husband. "I thought you, of all people, would understand me."

Pain exploded in his ribs, but he forced himself up. He had one chance. One moment. One opportunity to show the city that he was its true caretaker—not its ruler, not its tyrant, but its guardian. He pressed both hands to the cracked asphalt. The crown key vibrated violently in his pocket. Then he spoke—not to Vex, not to Wolf, not even to Luca. “I hear you,” he said, voice booming over the chaos. “I see you. I protect you!” The city answered. Lights flickered, systems stabilised briefly, barricades shifted subtly to protect civilians, and fires sputtered but didn’t spread.

No force, Just presence. “Look at me,” he whispered again. This time, I did, Slowly and Fearfully. His eyes were steady. Steady like a vow. “Your secret is safe with me,” he said. “Always.” My throat closed. “I’m not afraid you’ll tell,” I whispered. “Then what?” “I’m afraid of what you’ll do.” His breath hitched like he’d been stabbed. Then he leaned in closer, voice low and fierce. “What I’ll do is protect you. What I’ll do is make sure no one touches you. What I’ll do is stand between you and anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.”

He moved across the room with that same unshakable authority, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the bottle on the counter as though he had every right to be here. “What the hell are you doing here?” Lucas repeated, his voice rougher this time, darker. Adrian took a slow sip, then set the glass down with deliberate care. His eyes flicked to me before settling back on Lucas. “Protecting her.” My breath caught. Lucas’s face twisted. “Protecting her? From what? From me?” Adrian’s smile was sharp, dangerous. “From the weight you put on her shoulders. From your suspicions. From your weakness.”

“You’re scαring me. Whαt the hell αre you hiding from me? You need to tell me! You’ve been hiding shit from me my whole life. I’m not α child αnymore. I cαn hαndle whαtever it is you’re hiding. If you love me‚ then stop keeping me in the dαmn dαrk!” “I’m protecting you‚” he sαid tightly. “You’ll understαnd soon.” I lost it. I shoved the phone bαck in his chest. “To hell with your protection! I didn’t αsk for it! I didn’t αsk for you to keep me in the dαrk αll in the nαme of protection! If you reαlly αre protecting me‚ then αt leαst tell me whαt the fuck I’m being protected from!”

"𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙙? 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨?" "𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝙗𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧. 𝙍𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙗𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜.