Page 90 of Walking Away

Tears shimmered, but she nodded. The tension eased—just a little.

“Rest easy,” he murmured, and slipped out, leaving the door cracked.

He stretched on the couch just down the hall, boots off, weapon within reach. Rosie’s ears twitched in the dark. Outside, Scout sat in the driveway, shotgun across his lap. The night pressed in.

Caitlin’s scream tore the quiet. Rosie leapt onto the bed, barking. Burke burst through the door, catching her shoulders.

“Cate! It’s me—it’s Burke. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

She collapsed into him, sobbing, Rosie pressing against her, licking her tears.

Scout hit the porch in three strides, hand on his weapon. “Burke?”

“We’re good!” Burke called back, holding Caitlin close. “Nightmare.”

Izzy was already in the hall, pale and shaken. Scout turned at once, lowering his weapon and steadying her.

“Easy,” he said gently, arm around her. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I never got to tell you… how grateful I am. When you followed me—I thought it was over. But I heard you call my name, and I knew you’d come. I’ll be grateful the rest of my life.”

He steadied her.

She squeezed his hand one last time, silent, steady, before letting go.

The house settled into uneasy stillness. Caitlin’s breathing slowed against her pillow. Izzy drifted back to sleep. Burke stretched out on the couch—but Rosie didn’t settle.

Her paws clicked across the floor as she padded to the mantle, nose working the air. She stopped. Tail stiff.

A low growl rolled from her chest, her nose pressed tight to the baseboard.

Burke stiffened. “What is it, girl?”

She pawed urgently at the trim. He dropped to his knees, fingers searching through dust and shadow. When his handclosed on something cold and metallic, he eased out a black transmitter—tiny, ominous, a new crack in their sense of safety.

Burke swallowed hard. “How the hell did we miss this?”

Scout appeared at his side, eyes locked on the device. “We didn’t. Someone put it here tonight.”

Burke pulled a small evidence pouch from his jacket, slid the transmitter inside, and sealed it with a firm snap.

“She doesn’t need to know. Not tonight.”

Rosie circled back to Caitlin’s door, lowering herself across the threshold—silent guardian once more.

Jason West

Jason West sat hunched in the sterile glow of a corporate-owned luxury cabin—the kind of place executives used for retreats.

Leather couches, granite counters, a sweeping valley view—but to him, it was nothing more than a cage.

The judge had ordered him to stay put until the next hearing, tethered to this godforsaken ridge.

Headphones clamped tight, he listened to the faint crackle of the bug; Burke’s voice drifted through—low, steady—promising Caitlin safety. Promising her a future.

Jason’s teeth ground until his temples throbbed.His wife.That badge-wearing bastard thought he could take what wasn’t his.

“You think you’ve won?” Jason muttered, voice low and even. “You can guard her, cage her, lie in her bed—but she’ll never be yours. She’s mine.”