Page 3 of Single Mom’s Navy Seals (Claimed by the Alphas #2)

AVA

“ W hat do you mean he’s out? How is that possible?”

My voice shakes, breath hitching in my chest as if the air around me has gone too thin. Five years of freedom, of peace, of safety—shattered in an instant.

Agent Morales sighs heavily into the phone, sounding as exhausted and angry as I feel. “New evidence, supposedly. Something’s casting doubt on his original conviction. Randy’s lawyer dug up a technicality, and now they’ve secured conditional bail and a temporary stay of the case.”

Conditional bail. My stomach drops at those two little words. “So, he’s free? Just like that?”

“He’s out,” Morales confirms bitterly. “And with the new evidence introduced, the government’s now focusing on smaller charges.

We’re looking at only taking down a few of the lower men.

The Don, the cartel, the whole organization, everything I’ve worked on for years, is slipping through our fingers because of a corrupt judge and a bullshit technicality. ”

I clutch the phone harder, fighting the nausea rising in my throat. This is exactly the nightmare I feared, the scenario I convinced myself wouldn’t happen as long as I stayed hidden, kept quiet, followed every rule. But here we are, my worst fear realized in a single phone call.

“How could this happen?” I whisper hoarsely, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. The cool wood beneath my palm does nothing to steady the trembling that’s overtaking my entire body.

“Corruption,” Morales says, the disgust evident in his voice.

“Someone got bought. There’s no other explanation.

This case has too many eyes on it, too many powerful people involved.

This judge, they got to him. Now he’s granting them time to drag the case out indefinitely, weakening it at every step. ”

My mind reels, desperation clawing at my throat.

The flash drive, the evidence I risked everything to gather, was supposed to be enough to keep Randy locked away forever.

It was supposed to buy Eli and me a permanent reprieve from the fear, violence, and the constant looking over our shoulders.

It was supposed to finally bring down not just Randy, but the whole rotten organization behind him. How could it all fall apart so easily?

“So, what does this mean for us?” My voice is barely audible, and for a moment, I’m not even sure Morales can hear me. I hate the vulnerability in my tone, hate that after all these years, Randy’s shadow still has such power over me.

Morales pauses before answering, choosing his words. “Right now, Ava, it means things aren’t stable. Randy’s back on the street, furious, with resources we can’t match. And you know as well as I do, he’s not the forgiving type.”

The understatement makes my skin crawl. Randy isn’t just unforgiving. He’s ruthless, relentless, and dangerously patient. If he’s managed to work the system this far, then getting to me would be child’s play.

“Is he already looking for me?” The question comes out barely louder than a whisper. My gaze shifts instinctively toward Eli’s bedroom door, ajar, the soft sound of his breathing filtering through. Innocent. Unaware. Safe, for now.

Morales’s hesitation tells me more than words ever could. “We don’t know for certain, but it’s safe to assume he’ll use whatever resources he can to track you down.”

The fragile sense of safety I’ve clung to for five years crumbles to dust beneath me. Panic creeps up, tightening around my chest like a vice, squeezing out every ounce of oxygen until I feel light-headed. I clutch the counter harder, knuckles aching with the force of my grip.

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Just sit here and wait for him to find us?”

Morales exhales, his frustration bleeding through the line. “Officially, my hands are tied. I’ve pushed for emergency relocation, but the higher-ups won’t approve it without a new threat assessment. They want procedure, paperwork, endless red tape. It could take days, maybe weeks.”

“Weeks?” The word slips out, high-pitched and terrified. A lot can happen in a day. Too much can happen. Randy has money, influence, and a vendetta that won’t wait for bureaucracy. “We don’t have days or weeks, Morales. If he’s out, he’ll find us before then.”

“I know,” Morales snaps, sounding as frustrated and angry as I feel. “Believe me, Ava. I fucking know. But until something changes, until I can get authorization to move you, there’s nothing official I can do.”

“So that’s it?” My heart pounds painfully, the sound echoing in my ears, drowning out everything else. The walls of the cabin feel too close, oppressive, like they’re closing in on me. “We’re on our own?”

“You’re not on your own,” Morales says firmly, but I can hear the tension beneath the assurance. “But my resources are limited without authorization. I need you to be ready to move. Quickly.”

“Quickly?” I echo, voice shaking, my mind racing.

How can I move? How can I pack up Eli’s entire life, ripping him away from everything he knows? I promised him safety, stability, and now that’s gone too.

“And what am I supposed to tell Eli? He’s only five, Morales. He deserves better than this.”

“I know he does,” Morales says, his tone softening. “And I’ll do everything I can to push this through. But for now, you need to be vigilant. Be ready. And whatever you do, keep your head down. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

I close my eyes, squeezing back tears of frustration and fear. I’ve spent years mastering invisibility, blending into the shadows to keep us safe. And it still wasn’t enough.

“What am I even waiting for?” I demand bitterly, hating the helplessness I feel. “For Randy to show up on my doorstep?”

Morales’s voice is tight, strained with the weight of responsibility he can’t quite fulfill. “Stay calm. We’re monitoring the situation closely. If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

Stay calm. Easier said than done. My mind spins with worst-case scenarios, memories of Randy’s violent temper, the coldness in his eyes. He doesn’t just want revenge. He wants suffering. He wants punishment for daring to betray him, for daring to seek freedom.

The silence stretches between us, filled only by the quiet hum of static. Eventually, Morales clears his throat, breaking the tense quiet.

“I’ll call you the second something changes. Just keep your phone close.”

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Thanks.”

He hesitates a second longer, then ends the call abruptly, leaving me clutching a silent phone and the heavy weight of uncertainty.

The cabin is suffocating now, every shadow sharp-edged and threatening, as if Randy himself is lurking in every corner.

I pace, trying to work off the panicked energy vibrating under my skin.

My fingers ache from the relentless wringing of my hands, and I force myself to stop, digging my nails into my palms instead.

I can’t do this again. I can’t live this nightmare twice.

My gaze shifts involuntarily to Eli’s bedroom door.

It’s slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of soft lamplight to filter into the living room.

He’s in there, sleeping peacefully, unaware that his world is about to implode again.

Guilt twists my stomach into knots. It’s my fault he’ll never know a normal childhood, never have the security other kids take for granted.

But he’ll be alive. I’ll make sure of that, no matter what I have to do.

I swallow down a bitter lump and move toward his room.

I need to be close to him, reassure myself he’s still safe, still mine.

The old wooden floor creaks beneath my feet, each step louder than the last, and I pause outside his door, listening.

His steady breathing fills the room, soft and even, a balm against the chaos raging inside me.

Pushing the door open further, I slip into the small bedroom.

Eli’s curled up beneath his blanket, clutching his worn stuffed bear like it’s a lifeline.

His sandy-brown hair is tousled, curls spilling onto his forehead, and in sleep, he looks impossibly innocent.

My throat tightens again, tears burning behind my eyes.

I shouldn’t have waited. I shouldn’t have convinced myself we were safe.

Careful not to disturb him, I slide into his narrow bed, the mattress sinking beneath my weight. The warmth of his small body immediately seeps into me, easing some of the tension coiled in my chest. Instinctively, Eli stirs, mumbling, eyes fluttering open halfway.

“Mommy?” His sleepy voice tugs painfully at my heart, so trusting, so sure I’ll keep him safe.

“Shh, baby,” I whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead. “It’s okay. I just…had a bad dream.”

He blinks drowsily, eyes already drifting closed again. “It’s okay, Mommy. I’ll protect you from the bad dreams.”

His words are innocent, the bravery of a five-year-old who believes monsters can be banished with hugs and bedtime stories. I pull him closer, burying my face in his hair to hide the tears that slip free, soaking silently into the pillow.

My son deserves better than this. Better than fear, hiding, and running.

My mind flashes unwillingly to Randy, his cruel smile etched permanently in my memories.

When I married him at nineteen, I thought I knew what fear was.

I thought surviving each day of his unpredictable moods, the threats disguised as love, and the bruises hidden beneath designer clothes was the worst that life could offer.

I’d convinced myself I could endure it—that I was strong enough to survive. But then came Eli.

The night Randy found out I’d secretly gone on birth control, I knew my life had changed forever.

He tracked down my doctor, forced me to remove the implant, and two months later, I was pregnant.

Randy had been ecstatic. It wasn't joy. It was sick greed, satisfaction at the idea of a son to carry on his twisted legacy. I’d hoped for a girl, a way to disappoint him enough that he’d discard me like his previous wives.

They’d failed him, unable to provide the heir he obsessed over.

I remember clearly the cold, sterile doctor’s office the day we discovered Eli’s gender.

When the technician smiled and announced, “Congratulations, it’s a boy,” I’d broken down, sobbing uncontrollably, grief swallowing me whole.

Randy had leaned in close, gripping my arm until pain shot up to my shoulder, hissing that I’d better shut up before he gave me a real reason to cry.

That night, I mourned. I grieved not just for myself, but for the baby inside me, for the future he’d never know. I'd resigned myself to a life trapped beneath Randy’s cruelty. But the next morning, everything changed.

I’d awoken to shouting downstairs, Randy’s voice raised in cold fury.

Curiosity and dread propelled me silently to the staircase, and from there, I witnessed the scene that finally broke me.

Randy, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, shirt spattered with blood, stood over a man pleading for his life.

With a calm brutality I’d never forget, Randy silenced him permanently, the thud echoing in my ears long after I'd retreated to my room.

At that moment, I knew I couldn’t stay. Couldn’t allow my child to grow up in Randy’s shadow, learning violence before love. I planned my escape that very night, willing to risk everything—my life, my safety—to give Eli a chance at something better.

And we had it, for a while. Five years of peace, of freedom, of a quiet, isolated life. Now that peace is shattered, and I have no idea how to protect him from the monster we fled.

I hold Eli tighter, pressing my lips to the top of his head, breathing in his comforting scent. His heartbeat, steady and strong, grounds me in reality. I have to fight again, for him. I have no choice but to win this time.

Slowly, exhaustion overtakes the turmoil in my mind, the rhythmic rise and fall of Eli’s chest soothing the storm inside. My eyelids grow heavy, my breathing syncing with his, until finally, sleep claims me, wrapped safely in my son’s warmth.