Page 46

“What about you?” Hank asks, his voice low and even. “Tell us about the good, the bad, and the ugly of growing up as the daughter of a tech billionaire.”

I stare at the ocean, waves crashing against the rocks in rhythmic defiance.

Wild.

Free.

Everything I wasn’t.

“Hmmm…What was it like growing up with a billionaire for a father?” The words slip out, lighter than I feel. “Most people think it means privilege and excess—and yeah, I had all of that. Designer clothes, private schools, jets, anything I wanted at the snap of a finger.”

Hank arches a brow. Gabe’s watching me, too, silent, still.

“But it came at a cost,” I murmur, a breath hitching in my chest. “And before you say it—yeah, I know how that sounds. I’m not blind to the fact I was lucky. More than lucky. But when you grow up in that world, the bubble is all you know. And mine? It was lined with gold bars and reinforced with a security team who followed me to the bathroom. ”

A dry laugh slips out. “I had a detail before I could even spell ‘surveillance.’ They were everywhere—looming, reporting, shadowing every breath I took.”

“Must’ve felt like prison,” Hank murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my wrist.

“Worse,” I whisper. “Especially after my mom died.”

Gabe’s expression shifts—subtle, but I catch it.

We haven’t exactly traded life stories, too sex-obsessed to do anything but fuck. It’s time, though. Time to really get to know one another. I want to share, which is why I asked that ridiculous question, jumping into the deep end about their worst missions.

“She had cancer,” I say, staring at the horizon. “It was quick. Brutal. I was thirteen when she passed. After that, the rules changed. My father tightened every restriction. More guards. More control. I couldn’t breathe without someone watching.”

A silence settles, weighted and reverent. I feel it in my bones.

“I remember the first time I snuck away,” I say softly, staring at the horizon like it might anchor me. “Fifteen. Slipped out of a gala in a hoodie and jeans, ditched the guards, just… vanished into the night. For a few hours, I could breathe. No shadows. No leash. Just freedom.”

Hank lets out a slow breath, his thumb tracing my knuckles. “You were chasing control. I get it.”

A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “I kept doing it. Sneaking out, pushing limits. I thought I’d be free if I could just outrun the cage. I wanted to feel alive.”

Gabe’s gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He already knows where this is going.

“And then Cornell happened,” I say, the words thick in my throat.

They don’t move, don’t speak—but I feel it. Their tension. The shared memory.

“I thought I was untouchable. I slipped away from campus with no guards and no plan—just a party all my friends were talking about. One night to feel normal. One night to breathe. That’ s all I wanted.”

Hank’s jaw tightens. Gabe’s hand finds my thigh, grounding.

“But I was careless,” I murmur, more to myself than them, the weight of memory pressing down.

Neither of them interrupt. They know this story—every dark, brutal detail. But saying it aloud feels different. Necessary.

“I couldn’t have made it any easier for my father’s enemy.” I drag in a breath, steadying myself. “A consignment kidnapping. Planned like a goddamn business transaction. The auction was just for show. The real aim was to punish my father. Let him know what happened to his daughter… and that he couldn’t stop it.”

Hank’s jaw clenches, his grip tightening around my hand, anchoring me. Gabe doesn’t speak, but I feel the storm rolling beneath his stillness.

“You rescued me.” I look between them. “Saved me. And I learned a valuable lesson. I had to accept the cage.”

Gabe’s thumb strokes my skin.

My voice wavers, but the weight I’ve carried for years begins to ease. “I’ve never told anyone how that experience changed me. How I stopped running… and started accepting instead. Built walls. Locked everyone out. Until you.”

“Fate’s been hard at work since that day,” Gabe murmurs, his voice laced with something softer now. “Bringing us back together. The first time, you were a mission objective. In and out of our lives.” His eyes meet mine, something fierce behind the smile. “But the second time? That’s when we found you.”

Hank’s hand tightens around mine, grounding me. “Yeah. That’s when we knew we weren’t letting you go again.”

Gabe’s grin returns, slow and wicked. “We were always meant to be.”

Hank’s eyes meet mine, steady and sure. “You’re ours now.”

“Yeah… I am.” I nod, heart thudding.

A silence settles between us—not empty, but full. Of memory. Of emotion. Of something I’m only beginning to understand.

“And no one will ever put their hands on you again.” Gabe’s voice is quiet but absolute .

“Tell me you’re done with that, luv.” Hank’s hand finds mine, but the touch isn’t just reassuring—it’s firm, grounding.

My brow furrows. “With what?”

His grip tightens slightly, and his voice dips into something darker. The command is unmistakable: “Skipping out on your security detail. Sneaking off. Playing games with your safety.”

A flicker of defiance sparks in my chest, reflexive. “I’m not a kid, Hank. I don’t need?—”

“ We need it.” His fingers press just enough to cut me off—not forceful, but deliberate. His eyes are unyielding, the soldier in him front and center. His expression leaves no room for compromise, just certainty.

“So that’s what this is?” I stiffen. The old walls rise, instinctive and immediate. “Trading my father’s cage for yours?”

Gabe slides between us, his easy smile nowhere to be found. “What Hank is trying to say, with his usual charm—” a quick, pointed glance at Hank, “—is that we’ve seen what happens when you’re unprotected. Twice.” His voice lightens, but his eyes don’t. “And sweetheart, my heart can’t take a third time.”

I cross my arms. “So this is what? House arrest with benefits?” My voice rises, years of resentment bubbling up. “Because I’ve spent my entire life with people telling me where I can go, who I can see, what I can do—all in the name of protection.”

“It’s protection, not imprisonment.” Hank exhales sharply. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” I challenge. “Because from where I’m standing, they both come with guards and restrictions.”

Gabe throws his head back with a bark of laughter, though there’s an edge to it. “Oh man, she’s got you there.” He turns to me, amusement dancing in his eyes even as something more complicated lurks beneath. “Look, I get it. The caged bird thing sucks.” He steps closer, all traces of humor suddenly gone. “But what doesn’t suck is being alive.”

Hank remains unmoved, his jaw set in a hard line. “Your father’s enemies are still out there. Malfor is still out there. We care too much to let you walk around with a target on your back.” His smile returns, but it’s sharp at the edges. “And trust me, there’s definitely a target.”

I look between them—Hank’s unflinching resolve and Gabe’s disarming honesty—and feel my resistance wavering.

“I want this to work,” I say finally. “But I can’t live in a box.”

“No boxes,” Gabe agrees quickly, his hand finding mine. “No cages.” He shoots a glance at Hank. “Right?”

Hank’s expression remains grave, his jaw set. “I understand your fear, luv. But you were taken. Twice. The second time, we nearly lost you.”

“You think I don’t know that?” My voice breaks on the words. “I lived it. I still have the nightmares to prove it.”

“Then you know what’s at stake.” Hank’s thumb traces circles on my wrist, gentler now but no less intent. “This isn’t about control. It’s about keeping you alive.”

The truth of his words hits like a physical blow.

I exhale, shoulders dropping. “I want freedom. I need it, like I need air to breathe.”

“And we want to give you that.” Hank’s posture doesn’t soften, but something in his eyes does. “Security isn’t about caging you. It’s about creating a perimeter where you can move freely.” His voice remains firm, but there’s an undercurrent of something else. Vulnerability, maybe. “I need your word that you won’t circumvent those measures.”

“He means that we want you to talk to us when things feel too restrictive. Not disappear.” His thumb traces circles on my hand, but there’s steel beneath his touch. “Because I promise you, sweetheart, if you vanish on us? The way we’d tear the world apart to find you wouldn’t be pretty.”

The playfulness in his voice doesn’t match the promise in his eyes, and I realize that for all his joking, Gabe’s core is just as unyielding as Hank’s—he just wraps it differently.

Something shifts inside me and tightens. I want this. Them. But I also want more .

I step back, needing distance to clear my head.

“What does that look like?” I ask, the fight draining from me. “Practically speaking.”

Hank and Gabe exchange a glance before Hank’s expression eases slightly, recognizing my willingness to listen. “It means if you’re going somewhere, you tell us. If plans change, you let us know. If you feel crowded by security, you talk to us about it instead of ditching them.”

Gabe moves behind me, his voice rumbling close to my ear. “No disappearing acts. No going dark. No evasion.”

“I need to know this goes both ways,” I say, finding my footing. “I don’t want to be protected at the expense of living. I have a thesis to defend. A doctorate to secure. I want a career in cutting-edge research. Conferences. Travel. Autonomy. How does that work?”

Hank’s response is immediate and direct. “We adjust. We adapt. We find ways to make that work.” He doesn’t offer platitudes or easy answers, just the certainty of a man accustomed to making impossible situations work.

Gabe’s approach is different, his expression softening as he steps to my side. “Your dreams aren’t obstacles to us—they’re part of who you are.” He gently nudges Hank with his elbow. “Right?”

Hank shoots him an irritated glance but nods. “We want your success as much as you do.”

“More, probably,” Gabe adds with a wink, though his eyes remain serious. “Because watching you shine? That’s a prize all its own.”

I exhale, grounding myself in the present. “For now… Living with you—going with you to Guardian HQ when you’re on duty—that makes sense. Staying with the other girls at HQ when you leave for missions? That works. I get it. I do.”

I lift my chin. “But there’ll come a time when I’ll need space. When I have to go places you can’t follow. I need to know if we can figure that out. Together.”

Hank’s eyes soften, but the dominance in them doesn’t waver. He steps closer, hands bracketing my hips—but not gripping, not claiming. Just… there. Gr ounding. Steady.

Gabe steps in behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders—strong, steady, unmistakably his. The heat of his body seeps into mine, anchoring me between them. He squeezes my shoulders gently, his voice dipping low and honest.

“We’re not here to take over your life, sweetheart, but you still need protection, which will limit some of what you can do.”

I look between them—these men who’ve taken me, claimed me, undone me—and for the first time, I let the questions spill out, raw and real.

“Protection? Would I still have the freedom to pursue my career? To spend late nights at the lab when a breakthrough is close? To travel for conferences without checking in every hour?” My voice rises, threads of fear tangled in every word. “Do I have to call and ask for permission before I grab drinks with colleagues after work?” My arms wrap tight around myself, an instinctive shield. “I want this… what we’re building, but I also need the life I was building before we became an us . Can those coexist?”

“We want to be your foundation. Not your prison.” Hank’s eyes search mine, something fierce and tender burning behind them. “We don’t want you to feel trapped like your father made you feel.”

Gabe nods, closing the distance, his eyes locked on mine. “Your career, your doctorate, your ambitions—those are part of you. Diminishing them?” His fingers brush my cheek. “Would be diminishing you.”

My heart stutters.

“Boundaries don’t mean control over every breath you take,” Hank says, his hand curling around mine, his grip strong but careful. “They’re about safety. Respect. Communication. Not caging your spirit.”

I catch his shift in metaphor—from cages to spirit—both about freedom. The vise around my chest loosens. I thought they wanted more control for a moment, but I understand better now.

Gabe leans in, voice a breath against my skin. “Late nights at the lab? Conferences? Not a problem. We’d want check-ins, yes. Reasonable ones. We’d want that if we can be there and be your security. If we can’t, we’d like to ensure someone is watching over you. Not hovering. Not suffocating.” His lips twitch into a smirk. “We’ll worry otherwise, but not because we don’t trust you.”

Hank’s thumb sweeps along my wrist, his voice threading heat through the air. “Your success matters to us. Your dreams matter. We want to support them, not suppress them. But we need to know you won’t skip out on your security.”

“If you’re staying late,” Gabe says, “tell us. If you’re traveling, let us know when you’re leaving and when you’ve arrived. That way, we know you’re safe if we’re not with you.”

“I get it.” I place a hand on their chests, feeling their heartbeats beneath my palms. “I won’t ditch my security like I did with my father. I can promise you that much.”

“Good.” Hank lifts our joined hands, brushing my knuckles with his lips. “We worry because we give a damn.”

“The question isn’t if your ambitions can coexist with us,” Gabe murmurs, “it’s whether we can build something that honors all of who you are—including the parts beyond us.”

My breath catches.

“I want that.” My voice is barely there. “I want all of it.”

Relief floods through me, washing away the tension that’s been building since we started this conversation.

For the first time since my kidnapping at Cornell, and the second time with Malfor, I feel like I can breathe. Not just exist in a cage—gilded or otherwise—but truly live.

But there’s something else beneath the relief. Something unexpected.

The way they’re looking at me—Hank with that fierce protectiveness, Gabe with his mix of playfulness and intensity—ignites something primal inside me. Their concern and determination to keep me safe while respecting my independence shouldn’t be sexy, but God help me, it is.

I exhale, heat prickling beneath my skin, desire curling low in my belly. The protectiveness I’d feared would feel suffocating now feels like something else entirely. Something that makes my pulse quicken for entirely different reasons.

All that talk of possession, of protection, of being theirs—my body’s response is undeniable, electric, overwhelming.

“You certainly know how to make a girl swoon.” My voice is deliberately light despite the buzzing sensation building between my thighs.

I wet my lips, shifting under the weight of their gazes—intense, focused, hungry. The emotional intimacy we’ve just shared has opened something raw and needy in me, a craving for physical connection to match the vulnerability we’ve just navigated together.

“Do we have to do brunch?” I tilt my head, giving them both a look—half challenge, half plea. “Because that whole conversation got me…”

I step between them, pressing closer, my body brushing the heat of theirs. My fingers start at Hank’s chest, barely grazing the firm muscle beneath his shirt—a teasing caress, nothing more. I let them walk—slow, deliberate—down the ridges of his abdomen, my nails scraping lightly over each defined plane, feeling how his breath hitches under my touch.

But I don’t stop there.

My other hand mirrors the path on Gabe, fingertips gliding over the fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. A leisurely descent, dragging my nails down until I reach the hard wall of his stomach, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath my palm. The tension coils in both of them, winding tighter with every inch I travel.

My hands reach their waistbands at the same time.

I pause.

Look up at them through my lashes, waiting, watching their restraint slip.

Then—lower.

My fingers dip beneath belts, skimming the hard ridges of their lower abs, tracing the lines that disappear beneath their jeans. I press my palms down and cup them through the fabric, feeling the heat, the hardness, the reaction I wanted.

Their heartbeats thunder beneath my hands, chests rising, muscles flexing.

I wet my lips. Hold their eyes .

“I need both of you. Now.”

A sharp breath from Gabe. Hank’s jaw tightens.

Gabe’s laughter erupts—rich, deep, and unexpectedly free. His head tilts back, exposing the strong column of his throat, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. The sound breaks the tension like a thunderclap clearing heavy air.

Hank chokes on a surprised inhale, his composed demeanor cracking wide open. A flush crawls up his neck as he clears his throat, but he fails to hide the grin spreading across his usually controlled features.

“Jesus, woman,” Gabe manages between bursts of laughter, dragging a hand down his face. His eyes have darkened, pupils dilated despite his amusement. “You cut right through all the bullshit, don’t you?”

Hank recovers enough to shake his head, but his smile remains unguarded, almost boyish in genuine delight. “And here I was, worried about sounding too intense.” His voice carries a hint of gravel as he steps closer, heat radiating from him.

“Brunch can wait,” Gabe shoots Hank a look that requires no translation. The raw hunger beneath his playfulness is palpable now, barely contained. “Our woman has spoken.”

“Yeah, we’ve talked enough for one morning,” Hank growls low in his throat, his hand gripping my waist. “You sure you don’t want brunch?”

“I’m sure.”

Gabe’s mouth curves into a wicked smile. “No complaints here. I vote we feed her… something else.”

Hank nods, his eyes dark with promise, and then he looks at me. “Luv, I seriously suggest you run…”

A nervous laugh bubbles up—but it dies when I meet Hank’s eyes.

That smile? Gone.

What’s left is all dominance, intent, and hunger sharpened to a blade’s edge.

I gulp.

My thighs clench instinctively.

He means it.

He’s not teasing.

Gabe catches my reaction, his grin stretching slow and wicked. “Sweetheart, you really should run.”

I don’t wait to second-guess myself.

I bolt.