Page 51

Fuck.

Leaving her feels wrong on a cellular level. Every instinct screams at me to turn around, to climb back through that window and deal with whatever consequences come. But that’s emotional thinking, not strategic thinking. And strategy is what will win this war.

The mountain roads are empty this early, allowing me to push the truck harder than usual through the curves. Pine trees flash by in a blur of green, the peaks of the Tetons catching the first light of day. Beautiful country. The kind of place a man could build a life, raise a family. The kind of place where an art studio would get perfect morning light.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I think about Audrey in that studio, paint on her fingers and joy on her face. Soon. Fucking soon.

The drive gives me too much time to think, to replay every moment of last night. Not just the sex—though holy fuck, the sex—but the quieter moments. The way she curved into me while she slept. The small sounds she made when I touched her. The trust in her eyes when I promised to handle Vega.

She has no idea what she’s awakened in me. This primal need to possess, to protect, to provide. I’ve spent my entire adult life in control of my emotions, my reactions, my environment. But she decimates that control without even trying.

By the time I turn onto the private road leading to my cabin, the sun has fully risen. Which is why I immediately spot Ben’s Jeep parked in my driveway.

My jaw clenches as I pull up beside it, already running through possible explanations for where I’ve been.

He’s sitting on my front porch, scrolling through his phone with a cup of what looks like gas station coffee in his hand. His head comes up when he hears my truck, a grin spreading across his face.

“There you are!” He stands, stretching like he’s been sitting for a while. “I’ve been calling you.”

I grab my duffel and climb out, keeping my expression neutral. “My phone was off. What are you doing here, Ben?”

“Needed to grab some old family photos.” He holds up his coffee cup like a peace offering. “Got an interview with Sports Illustrated next week. They want the whole backstory. You know, military family, brothers reunited, that angle.”

Fuck. The last thing I need is media attention right now. But I can’t tell him that without explaining why.

“Could have called first,” I mutter, unlocking the front door.

“I did call. Like I said, your phone was off.” He follows me inside, his energy filling the space. “Where were you all night anyway? Your bed hasn’t been slept in.”

I set my duffel on the kitchen counter, buying time by starting the coffee maker. “Had business in town.”

“Business.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t buy it. “At five in the morning?”

“Sometimes security consultations require odd hours.” The lie comes easily, backed by enough truth to be believable. “Want actual coffee?”

He accepts the subject change, settling onto one of the bar stools at my kitchen island. “Fuck yes. This gas station shit is terrible.”

I move through the familiar routine of making coffee, grateful for something to do with my hands. Ben chatters about the fight, the media attention, the sponsorship offers pouring in. I make appropriate noises, but my mind is elsewhere. On Audrey waking up alone. On the three days stretching ahead without her. On what needs to happen before she returns.

“Earth to Reign.” Ben waves a hand in front of my face. “You listening?”

“Sorry.” I pour two mugs of coffee, sliding one across to him. “Long night.”

He studies me with eyes too much like our mother’s. “You seem different. More... I don’t know. Intense than usual.”

If he only knew. “Just thinking about some upcoming contracts.”

“Bullshit.” But he’s smiling as he says it. “You got that look. The one you used to get before missions.”

"The photos are in the storage room upstairs," I redirect, not wanting to travel down that road. "Stored them there when I finished building this place five years ago. Haven't had reason to go through them."

"Got it." He stands, draining his coffee. "Thanks for letting me dig through your stuff."

He disappears upstairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Three days. Seventy-two hours for Audrey to play her part at the bridal show while I dismantle her cage. She doesn't know the meeting I have scheduled for Thursday. Doesn't know that by the time she returns, Giovanni Vega will no longer be a problem.

“Holy shit!” Ben’s voice echoes from the guest room. “What are you building in here?”

Fuck. I forgot about the construction.