Page 19 of Eden and her Mercenary (Changing of the Guards)

Stella placed her front paws delicately on the edge of the bed. Eden leaned forward—too quickly, I could tell from her sharp intake of breath—and buried her face in the dog's fur.

I stepped back, giving them space as Eden's shoulders shook with silent sobs. Stella stayed perfectly still, allowing Eden to hold her, the dog's eyes half-closed in what looked like relief. After a moment, Stella began to lick the tears from Eden's cheeks.

"I missed you so much," Eden murmured into the dog's fur. "I'm sorry I was gone."

Stella whined again, then carefully maneuvered herself onto the narrow hospital bed, curling up against Eden's hip. The dog sighed deeply, as if she'd been holding her breath for days .

Wren caught my eye and mouthed, "I'll wait outside," before slipping from the room.

"The nurses will have a fit," I said, but I made no move to remove Stella from the bed.

Eden looked up at me, her face transformed. Despite the pallor, the exhaustion etched into every line, she looked peaceful for the first time since she’d awakened.

"Let them try," she said, running her fingers through the dog’s fur. "Some rules need breaking."

Stella rested her head on Eden's thigh, brown eyes fixed on her human's face as if memorizing her all over again. The machines continued their steady beeping, but the room felt different now—warmer, somehow. More like home.

"She didn't forget me," Eden whispered.

"No one who loves you could ever forget you," I said, settling back into the chair beside the bed. "Not even if they tried."

Eden's fingers found Stella's ears, scratching that spot that made the dog's back leg twitch slightly. "I heard you, you know. When I was... under. I heard you talking to me."

I stilled. "What did I say?"

"That's between you and unconscious me," Eden said, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "But it helped. It gave me something to follow back. "

Stella shifted, pressing herself more firmly against Eden's side as if to say she wasn't going anywhere. Not this time.

A nurse appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. She opened her mouth, likely to object to the dog on the bed, then seemed to take in the scene before her—Eden's color improved, her vitals steady on the monitor, the peaceful display of woman and dog reunited.

"Ten minutes," the nurse said instead, with a small smile. "Then she needs to get back on the floor."

Surprised by the kindness, I murmured my thanks.

When the nurse left, Eden looked down at Stella, who gazed back with complete adoration. "Ten minutes isn't nearly enough," she murmured.

"It's a start," I said. "And when you get out of here, you'll have all the time in the world."

∞∞∞

Three days later, Eden was discharged with strict instructions for rest and oxygen therapy. The ride back to the cabin was quiet, both of us lost in thought as familiar landmarks passed by.

"It looks the same," Eden said as we pulled into the driveway .

"Wren had it cleaned," I explained. "Replaced the damaged porch railing, scrubbed away the..." I trailed off.

"Blood," Eden finished. "You can say it, Royal. I'm not going to break."

The front door opened before we could knock, and Stella bounded out, her entire body wiggling with joy. She approached Eden carefully, as if sensing her fragility, then pressed against her legs with a soft whine.

"Hey, beautiful," Eden whispered, sinking to her knees despite my protests about her stitches. "I missed you so much."

Stella licked her face frantically, tail wagging so hard her whole body shook.

"She's been waiting by the door every day since we got back from visiting you at the hospital," Wren explained, joining us on the porch. "Wouldn't eat much, barely slept. She knew you were coming back."

Eden buried her face in Stella's fur, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The dog seemed to understand, settling down and resting her head on Eden's lap with infinite patience.

"Come on," I said gently after a few minutes. "Let's get you inside."

The cabin felt different somehow—smaller, more precious. Every room held memories of our brief time here before violence had shattered our peace. But it was still home, still the sanctuary we'd chosen together.

"The kennel construction," Eden said, noticing the half-finished building through the back window.

"On hold until you're recovered," I replied. "We have time."

She nodded, settling onto the couch with Stella immediately claiming the space beside her. "I've been thinking about what you said. About the program continuing."

"Eden—"

"No, listen." She stroked Stella's head absently. "We can't stop all of it, but we can help the victims. Dogs like Stella who escape or are rescued. We could specialize in that—rehabilitation for animals who've been through trauma."

The idea had merit. "A specialized sanctuary."

"Exactly. Work with veterinarians like Mack, surgeons like Dr. Chen. Build a network of people who understand what these animals have been through."

I sat beside them, careful not to jostle Eden's injured shoulder. "It would be dangerous. If they're still running programs—"

"Then we'll be careful. Discreet. But we can't just pretend it's not happening. "

She was right, of course. We'd seen too much, knew too much to simply retreat into peaceful obscurity. The knowledge carried responsibility.

"We'll need security," I said, already thinking through the logistics. "Better than what we had."

"And funding. Legal protection. Connections to rescue networks."

"The MacGallans can help with all of that," I assured her. "If you're serious about this."

Eden looked at Stella, whose intelligent eyes seemed to understand every word. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life. These animals deserve a chance—a real chance, not just survival but healing."

I reached for her hand, careful of the IV bruises still visible on her skin. "Then we'll build it together. The Pearl Lake Sanctuary for Traumatized Animals."

"Terrible name," she laughed softly, wincing as the movement pulled at her stitches.

"We'll workshop it," I promised, gently tucking a blanket around her legs.

Stella sighed contentedly, resting her chin on Eden's thigh as if she'd never been separated from her. The dog's surgical scar had faded to a pale line, barely visible beneath her fur—a reminder of what she'd endured but no longer defining her.

In that moment, watching Eden and Stella together, I felt something I'd rarely experienced in my complicated life: peace. Not the temporary absence of conflict, but something deeper—the certainty that whatever came next, we would face it together.

"Royal?" Eden's voice was soft, already edged with the fatigue that still plagued her healing body.

"Hmm?"

"When I was in the hospital, drifting in and out... I kept hearing your voice. It anchored me, kept me from slipping away."

I swallowed hard, remembering those endless hours by her bed, talking until my voice grew hoarse—about Stella, about the cabin, about the future I desperately wanted us to have.

"I meant every word," I told her.

"I know." She leaned against my shoulder, her eyes drifting closed. "That's why I fought so hard to come back."

Outside, rain began to fall, a gentle patter against the roof that seemed to cocoon us in our own private world. Stella's breathing deepened into sleep, her body relaxed against Eden's legs. For now, at least, we were safe—three damaged souls finding healing in each other.

Tomorrow would bring challenges: Eden's recovery, the sanctuary plans, the constant vigilance needed to protect what we were building. But tonight, I was content to simply be here, holding the woman I loved while she slept, a loyal dog at her side.

I pressed a kiss to Eden's hair, whispering, "Welcome home."

She smiled in her sleep, fingers tightening briefly around mine.

It wasn't the ending I'd expected when I first encountered a desperate woman with a gun in that motel parking lot. It was better—messy and complicated and real, with all the danger and beauty that entailed.

For a man who'd spent his life in the shadows, it was more than enough. It was everything.