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Freya sat in Abe’s chair. The seat still carried the warmth of his hard body. She tried to push the sensation to the back of her mind, but it was more difficult than it should be.

Maybe because in the soft light of Asta’s oil lamp, he looked even more handsome than usual. His boots were off and she saw more man than military. The flex of his muscles in his arms as he collected a spare chair from the far side of the room made her want to press her legs together.

Asta pressed a small glass of schnapps into her hand. “Here, drink.”

“Asta, thank you, but no. Sorry. I don’t drink.” She tried to hand the glass back but Asta pressed the glass back toward her.

“Drink. You will feel better, heh?” Asta stroked Moose behind her head.

“Um.” Freya stared at the liquid. Back at Abe. Heaven help her. Those eyes. Don’t look at him . She raised the glass to her lips. Maybe alcohol would help take her mind off her bodyguard and his ripped muscles that were inexplicably at the forefront of her mind right now. Wasn’t that why so many people drank? To blot out memories and reality?

She tipped the glass. Swallowed. Liquid flames scalded her throat.

God.

She spluttered, but it was too late. The drink was in her stomach, a blazing circle of heat spreading outwards.

Jeez.

“Breathe.” Abe slapped her back.

Freya stared at him through watering eyes.

Breathe.

Her lungs flexed, and she sucked in a breath. And another. Okay. The heat hit her brain, bringing a pleasant fuzziness. Now, she could look at Abe without feeling like she was going to melt.

“You look better.” He rested his hands on his knees.

“I feel better.”

“The wonders of a hot bath.” His gaze shifted from her to the lick of firelight behind the stove glass. Was he avoiding looking at her?

“Yes.”

“We’ll move on tomorrow.” He laced his fingers together.

“Where will we go?”

“Somewhere Raptor won’t be able to touch you.”

She shook her head. The situation was impossible. “How are we going to do that? They’ll have people at the airport, the ports?—”

“We’re not going by standard transport.”

“Oh, okay.” She rolled the glass in her hand. Her muscles felt looser, relaxed for the first time in days. Weeks even. Asta should market this stuff. “Is this what you always do? Solve insurmountable problems?”

The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across his rugged features as he leaned closer. “It’s in my blood. Always has been.” His calloused hand cupped her knee, his touch burning through the denim. “I swear to you, we’ll put an end to this nightmare.”

She gazed into the hypnotic flames, trying to quell the storm raging in her belly. Butterflies? No, this was a hurricane of sensation. His mere presence scrambled her senses, clouding her judgment with an intoxicating mix of desire and fear. Abe was burrowing beneath her skin, infiltrating her defenses with each passing moment, and it scared her.

She believed his words. From the first moment she had laid eyes on him, he had exuded an aura of quiet confidence—a man who faced impossible odds and emerged victorious. The firelight glinted off his eyes, hinting at depths of experience she could only imagine.

“What did you do before you worked in security? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” The words felt foreign to her tongue, a deviation from her iron-clad rule of professional distance. She stared at her hands, watching as her fingers twisted together of their own accord.

“Navy SEAL.”

His words made her realize just how little she knew about the man beside her.

“A long time ago?”

“Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.” A small smile played at the corners of his mouth that made her heart do a tiny somersault.

The snap of burning wood filled the momentary silence.

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like. Putting your life on the line every day to keep people safe.”

“It’s what we do.” His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, his words resonating with a quiet pride and unwavering conviction.

“I know. Just. It’s a lot, isn’t it?” God. What she was saying sounded so inadequate.

He nodded, his gaze growing distant. The firelight illuminated something raw and haunted in his eyes. “It is.”

There was more, but he wasn’t ready to share. She got that. The safety of keeping yourself closed off just to get through the day.

Yet sitting here, in the glow of this cozy room with this man who carried the weight of unseen battles, she sensed fresh fractures in her own carefully constructed armor. What would it be like to lower her guard, to let him see beyond what she presented to the world?

“Abe—” Her words were cut off by a loud snore.

Moose, now curled on Asta’s lap, stretched lazily, letting out another snorting wheeze before resuming heavy snoring.

“It’s the goddamn cat.” Abe gave a soft laugh.

Freya giggled. “Asta’s out cold too.”

“That schnapps is quite the nightcap.” His smile widened.

Freya stared at her own glass. Did I just giggle ? “It’s potent stuff.”

“What about you? Were you always into science?”

The unexpected question made her look up, meeting his gaze. Most people didn’t ask about her personal life—it was always work, science, the latest research. But there was something in his expression, a genuine curiosity that made her feel safe. Like she could tell him anything, and he’d understand.

“I’ve always loved science, the rules, the formulas, but my life wasn’t always as organized as it is now. Once it was chaotic.” She hesitated, feeling a weariness tug at her, but for the first time she wanted to share. It didn’t feel like exposing a vulnerability; it felt like deepening a connection. “My mother fell apart when my dad died. She had a complete breakdown. I was eight.”

She inhaled a shaky breath.

He hadn’t moved his hand. It still rested on her knee. A part of her was terrified to let him any closer, but she craved his touch and drew strength from it to carry on.

“My mom spent her days in bed, out of it on a cocktail of psychiatric meds.” Her voice wavered and her hands balled into fists against the onslaught of memories.

Without a word, Abe’s hand shifted from her knee to cover her hands, his warmth reassuring.

“I had to buy groceries, clean the house, cook.” Her tone was flat, almost as if she were reciting someone else’s life. But it was hers. I lived that chaos. “School became my escape, my safe place. Away from her rantings, from the mess. I could lose myself in science. Science never let you down, you know?” She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It was reliable, immutable. Safe. When everything else wasn’t.”

She hadn’t meant to go so far, but once the words had spilled out, they wouldn’t stop.

She took the last sip of schnapps, the burn sliding down her throat, and then let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the weight of what she had just revealed. “So, now you know. I’m the crazy lady who hides behind numbers.” She shrugged, half-expecting to see pity in his eyes, or worse, indifference. Instead, his gaze seared into her.

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” His voice was soft as he reached up and tucked a loose strand of damp hair behind her ear. Tingles scattered across her scalp and down her spine. It was all she could do to remember to breathe. “I think you’re strong. To have survived that and come through. That takes actual strength.”

The sincerity in his voice hit her hard. She felt exposed, but not in a way that made her want to hide. The way he looked at her, with no judgment, only understanding, made it clear—he saw her. All of her. And he wasn’t running away.

The edgy energy that normally coursed through her veins stilled, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of calm. This was what it felt like being with Abe. His presence revealed a side of herself she hadn’t known existed—a version that could find peace amidst the chaos.

“I won’t let you down, Freya.” His face was serious. “I’ll keep you safe. If you’ll let me.”

Silence stretched between them.

A soft thump broke the spell as Moose leaped down from Asta’s lap. The cat sashayed out of the room with an air of feline superiority. I have mice to kill, hoomans.

“Moose is off on patrol.” She was grateful for the distraction. Her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears, betraying the rapid beating of her heart and the warmth pooling low in her belly.

Abe straightened, pulling away from her, the movement leaving her feeling oddly bereft. “It’s late. We should both hit the sack too. It’s been a long day and we have another ahead of us tomorrow.” He stood and, retrieving a blanket that was folded across a chest at the side of the room, he draped it over the sleeping Asta. The tenderness of his gesture made something twist in her chest.

He extinguished the lamp and plunged the room into darkness save for the glow of the last embers in the stove. In the dim light, he turned to her, hand outstretched. “Come. We should get some sleep.”