Page 12 of Protected By the Ranger

“I don’t feel safe anywhere. I don’t know what to do,” I confess in a whisper. The crackle of the fire, the scent of pine and smoke, and the warmth of Gideon’s hand—all of it feels distant, overshadowed by the memory of my stalker, and the knowledge that he’s still out there.

Gideon gently strokes his thumb on my knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “I know what that feels like,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a weight of understanding.

I glance up, surprised. “You do?”

He nods, his gaze distant, eyes clouded with old memories. “I served in the army, as a ranger,” he says quietly. He shifts, like the memories physically ache.

“We were on a recon mission, in a remote area. Careful, but not careful enough,” he says, his voice heavy. “Someone compromised our position.” His words falter, and I can feel the anguish as his jaw tightens. “Extremists found us. We fought back, but... they set off explosives.”

I can see the pain glimmering in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches as he relives the moments. “My team... my friends... they got hurt. So did I.”

I gently hold his hand between mine. “What happened?”

Gideon looks down at our intertwined fingers. “I took a bullet to the back,” he says, closing his eyes as if feeling the pain all over again. “Shrapnel tore through my leg.”

He pulls up his pant leg, revealing a jagged scar that snakes from his thigh to his calf. It’s ugly and raw, a permanent reminder of what he endured. The sight twists something deep inside me. I move closer, squeezing his hand.

“They sent me back to Philly,” he says, voice rough. “But being home didn’t stop it. The nightmares, the flashbacks—they followed me. Every loud noise, every shadow… it was like I was still there. My home felt like a war zone. I was always on edge.”

His story hits me hard. I can feel the weight of it, the scars he carries. “I’m so sorry, Gideon,” I whisper, my voice tight with emotion. “How did you cope?”

He looks at me, something like gratitude softening his eyes. “Liam Gallagher—my old sarge—he’s sheriff now. He saved my life that night. When he moved here, some of us from the team followed him.”

He glances out the window, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Living here helps. It’s quiet, slower. But it’s not just the place. It’s the people. Liam’s been a rock for all of us. Derek’s a counselor now, and Callum’s a medic. We went through hell together, and now we’re healing together.”

He takes a deep breath. “I still struggle with PTSD, but having people who understand makes a difference.”

I squeeze his hand, my heart swelling with empathy and admiration. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Gideon. It means more than you know.”

He nods, his expression softening. “I just want you to know, Ariel... you’re not alone. Leaning on friends who care helps more than you think. I am here for you, Ariel. You can lean on me.” His words soothe the raw edges of my fear, like a balm to my aching heart.

“So, are we friends?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

His gaze holds mine, steady and intense. “We can be anything you want us to be,” he tells me, the meaning clear in his eyes.

Gideon breaks eye contact, and I can finally breathe again. His gaze falls on the scattered photographs, his jaw tightening. “We need to talk to the police.”

“I already did,” I say, frustration lacing my words. “They told me roses and blank calls weren’t enough to go on. I don’t think they even believed me.”

The memory of the officer’s dismissive look makes my skin crawl. I had never felt more powerless.

Gideon kneels in front of me, his hands firm on my shoulders. “We’ll figure this out, Ariel. Once we get a signal, I’ll call Liam. We’ve got real evidence now.”

I nod, trying to take comfort in his words, but my eyes are glued to the pictures beside me.

“What if he followed me here?” The thought clutches at my chest, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Hey, look at me,” he softly commands, brushing away a stray tear on my chin. “No one will touch or harm you around me, I promise you.”

My breath quickens, panic tightening its grip on my throat. “I don’t even know what he looks like. How do I fight something I can’t see?”

Gideon pulls me flush against him, and his hands cradle my face firmly. The heat of his palm seeps into my skin. His rough thumbs brush against the curve of my jaw in a way that grounds me.

His voice shimmers with harsh fury as he says, “If he dares to come after you, I will hunt him down like an animal. No one will harm you, not while I’m breathing.”

I can feel the raw power radiating off him, a lethal promise etched in every word. It should frighten me how quickly he shifts from calm to wrathful, but it doesn’t. His hands are my anchor, pulling me from the suffocating depths of fear.

His emerald eyes burn with a wild fire. His grip tightens slightly as his hand moves to the back of my neck, fingers threading possessively through my hair. He tilts my head, his voice a low growl, “I’ll tear him apart, limb from limb, if he tries to cause you pain. I’ll protect you with my life, Ariel.”

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