Page 18

EIGHTEEN

Blaze

I reach out, taking Ember’s hand in mine before I can stop myself. “Hey, look. You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but this information could save lives. We can protect you.”

“Can you?” Ember’s stern gaze locks onto mine, searching for something. “Can you protect me from someone like that?” The doubt in her voice cuts deep.

“With my life.” I mean every word.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us. The air between us feels charged, electric. I lean in, drawn by some invisible force. Ember’s lips part slightly, her eyes wide.

But then she pulls away, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I won’t.”

“We can keep you safe,” I try again, my voice soft, pleading. “This isn’t just about Wolfe—it’s about everyone he’s hurt, everyone he might still hurt. You could make a difference.”

Ember’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she pulls her hand back, folding her arms tightly across her chest, a protective barrier.

“You don’t understand. I don’t want to make a difference. I want to forget. I want to pretend none of it happened.”

I swallow, feeling the weight of her words settle between us like a wall I can’t push through. Her words don’t match the fierce woman I saw when Aria was taken. Ember fought tooth and nail then, risking everything to protect someone else.

Where did that courage go?

What happened to that woman who was willing to face danger without hesitation? I don’t understand how she’s retreating now, and it doesn’t make sense.

I swallow, feeling the weight of her words settle between us like a wall I can’t push through.

“I get it,” I say, though it hurts to admit it. “But running won’t make it go away.”

She looks away, her jaw clenching. “I’m not running. I’m surviving. And right now, that means not looking back.”

The finality in her tone makes my chest ache. I wish I could say something to change her mind, but I see it in her eyes—she’s made her choice.

“Okay,” I say, the word almost a whisper. “I won’t push you.”

She nods, but the tension between us lingers. For a moment, neither of us moves, the silence stretching thin. Then Ember turns away, her shoulders stiff, and the space between us widens.

She needs time, and I’m afraid I’ve pushed too hard. Part of me wonders if I’ve lost my chance to reach her—if she’ll ever let me in again.

I can’t let Ember go home—not now, not when we have no idea what Wolfe’s next move might be. The thought of her stepping out of this safe house and being vulnerable out there makes my stomach twist. I try to ignore how my heart races at the thought of spending more time with her. I have to get her to agree to spend the night.

Jenny clears her throat, breaking the moment. “We need to move on this information. Jon, get in touch with the techies. I want everything we have on Damien Wolfe and his known associates.” Like me, Jenny doesn’t mention Damien’s connection to Aria’s father.

Jon nods, already heading for the door. Jenny turns to me, her expression stern.

“Blaze, I need you to stay here with Ember and Aria. Keep them safe. Don’t let them out of your sight. We don’t know how far Wolfe’s reach extends.”

The next few hours pass in a blur of activity. Jon and Jenny come and go, bringing updates and pressing Ember for more details. Each time, she shakes her head, her refusals growing firmer.

“I’m done,” Ember says finally, her voice trembling. “I just want to get back to my life. Back to my candles. I just want to go home.”

“You can go home tomorrow. Tonight, you stay with us.” Jenny sighs, her frustration clear, but she steps back, nodding slightly. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Blaze, you’re on first watch. I’ll send Mac to relieve you at midnight.”

As Jenny and Jon leave, I turn to Ember. She’s slumped on the sofa, looking smaller and more vulnerable than ever.

“Hey, it’s just one night. Things will be clearer in the morning.” I crouch down in front of her, my eyes searching hers. “How about we get you something to eat?”

She looks at me, her eyes weary. “I don’t need you to baby me. I just need out of here.”

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes, shaking my head. “You know, I’m actually glad Jenny made that call.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because if she hadn’t, and you tried to leave, it would be on me to keep you here. Even if that meant carrying you back inside. Now I have no choice; the decision is not mine to make.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Her eyes narrow slightly, a spark of defiance flickering there.

“Oh, I would.” I give her a crooked grin, a hint of challenge in my tone. “For your safety, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. Instead, she looks away, her shoulders slumping further. The fight in her seems to drain out, replaced by the exhaustion that weighs heavy on her.

“We’ll just chill for tonight,” I say gently. “You can get some rest. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

Ember bites her lip, her gaze darting to the door and then back to me. The weight of her exhaustion seems to settle deeper in her bones.

“Just tonight?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Just tonight.” Relief floods me, and I nod. I offer her a small smile. “Let me at least make you something to eat, okay?”

She hesitates, then nods, managing a weak smile. I head to the kitchen and throw together a simple meal of sandwiches. When I return, Ember’s curled up in the corner of the sofa, my shirt pulled tight around her like armor.

Aria has retreated to one of the bedrooms to try and get some sleep, leaving Ember and me alone. I hand her a plate, and she takes it, her fingers brushing mine.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice so soft I almost don’t hear it.

“You don’t have to thank me.” I sit beside her, careful to keep some space between us. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I just want to forget.” She looks at me, her eyes searching mine, and something softens in her expression. “I just want it all to be over.”

I nod, my heart aching for her. “I know, and until it is, I’ll be right here.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t pull away either. And for now, that’s enough.

We eat in silence, the weight of the day hanging heavy between us. As Ember finishes her sandwich, a knock at the door makes her jump.

“Stay here.” I’m on my feet instantly, my hand going to my weapon. I move toward the door and peer through the peephole, tension coiling in my muscles, but it’s just Aria’s father, flanked by Charlie and Brett. I open the door.

Marcus Holbrook bursts in, his eyes wild. “Where is she? Where’s my daughter?”

“Mr. Holbrook, please calm down.” I try to keep my voice steady. “Aria’s resting.”

But Holbrook doesn’t listen. He pushes past me, calling Aria’s name. I share a concerned glance with Charlie and Brett before following him.

“Daddy?” Aria emerges from her room, looking groggy and disoriented.

What happens next is a flurry of tears and embraces. I give them space, but something nags at the back of my mind. Something is off about Holbrook’s behavior, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

As father and daughter reunite, Ember watches from the sidelines, her expression unreadable. The contrast between Aria’s tearful reunion and Ember’s solitude is stark, and it makes my chest ache.

Holbrook insists on taking Aria home despite our protests that the safe house is the most secure option. In the end, Jenny relents, but only after he agrees our team will escort them home.

With Aria clinging to his side, Holbrook steps toward the waiting SUV. Brett and Charlie are already in position, watching the surroundings with sharp eyes, ready to escort them to safety. Jenny, Mac, and Jon stand by, ready to join them. When I don’t move, Jenny approaches.

“You’re staying with Ember,” Jenny says, her tone sharp and final. “She seems to trust you. We’ll head back to HQ once Aria’s home safe. You can stay with Ember tonight and escort her back in the morning. You good to stay?”

“I’m good.” Relief floods my chest, steadying the storm inside me. The thought of letting Ember go now feels wrong—reckless, even. She’s been through hell, and the idea of leaving her unprotected twists like barbed wire in my gut.

Jenny studies me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing, as if she can see every unspoken vow etched into my expression.

“She needs to open up about Wolfe. We need the intel she has.” Jenny’s gaze flicks over to Ember, who stands off to the side, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Work on her, but just so we’re clear—that doesn’t mean screwing her. Keep your dick in your pants, got it?”

I blink, caught off guard by the bluntness. “That’s not?—”

“Uh-huh,” Jenny cuts me off, her smile turning sharp, almost mocking. “You’re a protector, Blaze, but you’re also walking testosterone—a player with a higher-than-normal sex drive. So keep it in your pants, alright? She’s fragile, and she doesn’t need you complicating things. Don’t screw this up.”

“I won’t,” I say, shaking my head with a sigh.

Jenny pats my shoulder, her expression shifting back to serious. “Good. Get her to trust us. We need her. More than she knows.”

She turns and heads toward the waiting SUV, leaving me with a mix of determination and something softer as I look back at Ember. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, but I also need to earn her trust—not just as a protector, but as someone she can rely on. Tonight, I’ll make sure she’s okay. And tomorrow, we’ll face whatever comes next.

“Oh, there it is.”

“What?”

“Your Alpha is showing.” Jenny stares at me for a beat, then lets out a short laugh. “A protector at your core. Can’t argue with that, but you screw this up and you’re flying home civilian.”

“Civilian?” I arch a brow, already knowing where this is going.

“Coach.” She delivers it with a smirk, eyes glinting with challenge.

I groan, rolling my eyes. “Bustin’ my balls with coach. That stings.”

“You’ve got options,” she fires back with a grin. “Behave and fly back in comfort with the team, or fold that large body of yours into a middle seat. Your choice.”

I shake my head, a grin tugging at my lips. “I’m not flying coach.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, stepping forward and clapping a hand on my shoulder, her voice dropping just a notch. “Just be smart. Don’t complicate things.”

“Complicate things?” I pause, narrowing my eyes at her. “Me?”

Her smirk widens, a knowing glint in her eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, rolling my eyes as she lobs the jab. “Come on. I’m a professional.”

She raises her brows, clearly not convinced.

“I’ll keep it together. Promise.” I shake my head, but the small smile creeping in gives me away.

“Just don’t make me come back here to clean up your mess.”

I chuckle, leaning back slightly. “What could happen in one night?”

Jenny doesn’t miss a beat. She arches a brow, her smirk widening. “With you? Plenty. I’ve seen you lose control in less time than that.”

I scoff, throwing up my hands. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

She snorts. “I trust you to do your job, but I’ve seen how you look at her. Just ensure you’re thinking with the head on your shoulders, not the one in your pants.”

I groan, running a hand through my hair. “Come on. I’m not that bad.”

Her grin widens, still unconvinced. “I’ve got eyes, and I’ve seen you work your charm. You look at a woman; the next thing you know, her clothes fall off. So yeah, forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

“I can keep my junk in my jeans.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head again with a laugh.

“We’ll see.” She gives me one last amused look before stepping back. “Just don’t make me say ‘I told you so’ when you’re stuck in a situation you didn’t think through.”

With that, she claps my shoulder and leaves. Her warning lingers in the air as her SUV pulls away. I can almost feel her eyes still on me, daring me to prove her wrong.

I turn back to Ember. She hasn’t moved, her arms still wrapped around herself like a shield. She meets my eyes, exhaustion written all over her face. She doesn’t say anything, but her slight nod is enough.

As night falls, the house grows quiet. Ember’s exhausted but too keyed up to sleep. We end up on the sofa, with a respectable distance between us and some mindless action movie on TV.

The silence stretches, the hum of the TV filling the space, but an undercurrent lies between us—something simmering just below the surface.

“You know,” Ember says suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the screen. “This… All of this… It’s the first time I’ve felt safe in a long time.” She glances my way, her gaze flicking over my face, her expression vulnerable.

My throat tightens, and I force myself to look away. She’s too close, and yet not close enough. The tension in the room thickens, pulling tight between us.

“You’re safe now,” I say, my voice low, almost rough. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not on my watch.”

She shifts, leaning just slightly toward me, and the air heats between us. Her eyes catch mine, and for a second, it feels like the world narrows down to just this—just her.

“Blaze…” she says, and my name on her lips is like a spark catching fire. The look in her eyes is full of questions, a mix of fear and something else—something that mirrors the same storm brewing in me.

I should keep my distance. Jenny’s words echo in my mind, her reminder that I need to be careful and stay professional. But the way Ember is looking at me right now—it’s like she’s seeing through every wall I’ve built, seeing past the protector and straight into the man beneath.

“Ember,” I say, my voice a warning, but it sounds weak even to my own ears.

She leans closer, her eyes searching mine, her breath mingling with mine.

I swallow hard, my pulse pounding. The space between us shrinks, and all the reasons I shouldn’t be doing this fade into the background—overshadowed by the heat of her gaze, the way her lips part slightly as she looks at me.

The tension snaps. She moves first, her lips brushing mine—soft, hesitant, like she’s testing the waters. The kiss starts gently, a hesitant brush of her lips against mine, but then Ember’s hand finds my cheek.

Something inside me snaps. I pull her against me, deepening the kiss, pouring all my need, all my hunger into her. Her body melts into mine like she was made for this moment—made for me. Her fingers twist into my hair, and a low groan escapes me.

I’m lost in her—the taste, the feel, the fire she ignites. My hands roam of their own accord, slipping under the hem of her—my—shirt.

Then reality crashes in, brutal and unforgiving. Jenny’s voice is like a worm in my head. I pull away abruptly, chest heaving, the air between us charged and heavy.

I pull back, my breath shaky.

“Ember, we can’t.” I hate the words even as they leave my mouth, my voice more forceful than I intend.

Her eyes widen, confusion flickering there, quickly replaced by hurt. She blinks, pulling back further, her expression closing off.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammers, her face flushing. She looks away, her arms wrapping protectively around herself. “That was silly of me. I shouldn’t have…”

I run a hand through my hair, guilt gnawing at me. “It’s not that. I just…” I swallow, trying to find the right words. “We need boundaries. I’m your protector, Ember. I can’t—cross that line.”

She nods quickly, but her eyes are glassy, and the vulnerability she showed me a moment ago is gone, replaced by a wall I can almost see forming between us.

“Right. Of course,” she says, her voice small. “I shouldn’t have… I mean, it was stupid.”

“No.” My voice is sharper than I intend, desperate for her to understand. “It’s not that I don’t want to. God, Ember, you don’t know how badly I want to.” I rake through my hair, struggling to find the right words. “But you’re vulnerable. I’m here to protect you, not take advantage of you.”

She’s silent for a beat too long, and I brace for her to pull away for good, to shut me out, but when she speaks, her voice is soft, almost sad.

“You’re a good man, Blaze. Better than I deserve.”

Her words hit harder than any punch.

“Don’t say that.” My voice drops, thick with emotion. “You deserve more than you’ve been given. More than I can give you right now.”

She shifts away from me, putting more distance between us, her gaze fixed firmly on the TV. The warmth between us evaporates, replaced by a cold, awkward silence.

I messed up. I know it, and from how she won’t look at me, I know she does too.

“Ember…” I try again, but she shakes her head.

“It’s fine, Blaze,” she says, her voice clipped. “Let’s just watch the movie and forget it ever happened.” And just like that, the moment is gone, the heat replaced by a chill that cuts deeper than any wound.

I lean back, the silence stretching out, and all I can think is how badly I want to fix this, but I have no idea how. She turns away, but I can’t let her shut down like this. Not now.

“Don’t do that.” I reach out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Do what?”

“Close yourself off from me.”

She exhales softly. “Why not? I know what you see when you look at me. I made an assumption, and it was wrong. Can we stop talking about it?”

My jaw clenches. I shift closer, just close enough for the tension to spark between us again.

“You think you know what I see when I look at you?”

She doesn’t answer, her eyes fixed elsewhere, anywhere but me.

“I’m gonna make this crystal clear for you.” I pause, letting the weight of my words settle between us. “If it wasn’t my job to protect you… If I wasn’t here to keep you safe, I’d take you to that bedroom and show you exactly how much I want you.”

Her breath catches, and the heat between us flares, undeniable and dangerous.

“But I won’t,” I add, my voice rough. “Because I need to protect you from everything—including myself.”

She turns to me, the tension between us electric. I’m caught in the space between desire and duty, and I hate it.

“Well, doesn’t that just suck.” She flops back onto the sofa, arms crossed, completely closed off, but the spark in her eyes betrays the walls she’s trying to create.

We settle back into an uneasy silence, the air crackling between us. The weight of our kiss hangs heavy in the room.

My body’s on edge, every nerve attuned to her. The fire we started isn’t just lingering—it’s spreading. The match has been struck, and the fire lit. It’s only a matter of time before things ignite into something neither of us can control—a blaze we’re too far gone to put out.

Every time I look at her, I see the hurt of rejection in her eyes yet feel the phantom press of her lips against mine. The memory burns hotter than any fire.

The sofa cushions still hold her warmth. Her scent—lavender and something uniquely her—lingers in the air, mixing with the silence that stretches between us like a living thing. The distance I forced between us for her protection now feels like its own kind of torture.

Professional distance.

The words ring hollow now. Nothing about this—about her—has ever been just professional.