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Story: Tyson

"You said he has cartel connections now." I couldn't keep the worry from my voice. "That's not nothing, Tyson. That's actually super something. That's the kind of something that ends with people in shallow graves in the desert."

"Which is why you're going to let me handle it." His hand curved around the back of my neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. "The club knows now. We're prepared. And Cruz isn't going to get within fifty feet of you, cartel or no cartel."

"But—"

"All tomorrow's problems," he decided, echoing his earlier words. "Tonight, you love me and I love you. Everything else can wait."

The simple certainty in his voice made something in my chest unwind. He was right. We'd face whatever came next—Duke's anger, Cruz's threats, the awkwardness of public pretense—but we'd face it together. Tonight was for softer things.

Chapter 14

Tyson

Iwoketothesoftsound of Lena's voice counting under her breath. "Four, five . . . six? Seriously?" She was propped on one elbow beside me, purple hair cascading over bare shoulders, studying her phone screen with the intensity she usually reserved for tattoo designs.

The morning light filtering through her curtains caught the small bruise I'd left on her neck—evidence of last night's desperate need to mark her as mine after we'd finally said the words.

"Six different panic buttons seems excessive," she said, but she was smiling, that soft morning smile that made my chest tight. "There's one for medical emergency, one for fire, one for break-in, one for—"

"General panic?" I suggested, pulling her back against me. The app had taken me three hours to customize last night while she slept, but some things were worth losing sleep over. "It's comprehensive."

"It's paranoid." She tilted her head back to look at me. "But sweet. In a very Tyson 'I must protect everything I care about' kind of way."

"Nothing's excessive when it comes to your safety." I pressed my lips to that spot below her ear that always made her shiver. "Especially now."

The weight of our confessions hung sweet between us. Three words that changed everything. Three words that painted a target on her back the size of Texas if Cruz ever figured out what she meant to me.

"Because you love me?" she teased, but her voice wobbled on the last word, like she still couldn't quite believe it.

"Because I love you," I confirmed, tightening my arms around her.

Her fingers traced the scars on my chest, a habit she'd developed that soothed us both. "Show me what else you've done to turn my apartment into Fort Knox."

Yesterday evening, while Lena had rested, I’d installed some extra security at her place. New locks, cameras, and fresh security protocols. I explained all of it. She followed along, asking smart questions, practicing the panic sequences without complaint.

"So if I hit this combination," she demonstrated on my phone, "it sends my location to you, Wiz, and Thor simultaneously?"

"And triggers the cameras to upload to cloud storage," I confirmed. "Evidence, in case . . ."

"In case Cruz's cartel buddies decide to make good on his threats." Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight tremor in her hands. "You really think he'd—"

"I think he's desperate and connected to dangerous people." I cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek. "I think he's obsessed with you and control. That makes him unpredictable."

She leaned into my touch. "Lucky I have an overprotective boyfriend with a military background and a motorcycle club at his back."

"Lucky," I agreed, though luck had nothing to do with it. Strategy, preparation, and the willingness to do whatever it took to keep her safe—that's what would protect her.

"What's this?" She'd wandered to the door during my mental tactical assessment, finding the small velvet box I'd left by her keys.

My stomach dropped. I'd meant to give it to her differently, with more explanation. "Open it."

Inside was a delicate silver necklace, the pendant a tiny compass rose that looked decorative but housed state-of-the-art tracking technology. Her fingers stilled on the clasp.

"Tyson . . ."

"I know it's overboard," I said quickly, moving to her side. "But with the party coming up, and Cruz making threats about the wedding—"

"I'll wear it," she interrupted, surprising me.