Page 48 of Her Redeemed Protector

He says, “Courts do love a redemption story, especially when it comes with a thick wallet. But your take on Juliet being cold…”

I continue, my tone darkening, “Kayla’s a trophy to her, not a daughter. A son would have been her victory cup.”

Huxley’s frown deepens. “I’m not one to judge, but Juliet’s not winning any points with me.”

Fabian’s house looms before us, boasting the opulence that success can buy. He’s done well for himself, rising from financial ashes to a Montana real estate titan.

And there stands Chase Samson, a bulwark of a man, more reminiscent of the biblical colossus than a retired Navy SEAL with all the formidable presence but none of the fabled locks.

Chase gestures for us to follow. “This way,” he says, leadingus to an elegantly framed window set high on the house’s sidewall. The lower edge of the window barely clears his head, and he stands nearly eye-to-eye with Huxley. With a careful motion, he points to a series of faint dirt prints on the windowsill, likely left by shoes. “Looks like someone used this as an access point,” he concludes.

Huxley leans in, examining the patterns. “Notice the grouping of these prints? Likely two intruders.”

Chase agrees with a nod. “The marks on this side are deeper than on the other.”

Huxley turns to Fabian, squinting as he looks up. “Where does this window lead?”

“To Kayla’s room,” Fabian murmurs, his face losing all color.

“Let’s go. We need to see the inside.” The command comes swiftly from Huxley, driving our host before him.

We enter the house. The living area is a picture of normalcy, but Kayla’s bedroom is a different story. It speaks of a struggle, a rebellion in the form of scattered pillows and a lone sock.

Fabian fights back tears while Huxley’s voice is a low note beneath it, piecing together a narrative none of us wants to read.

“Was the room like this when you found Kayla missing?” Hux inquires, his eyes sweeping the room with clinical precision.

“Yes. I haven’t touched anything. I mean, I did crawl around, thinking she might be hiding, but I don’t think I disturbed anything significant.”

Hux releases a breath, then remarks, “She gave her kidnapper, or kidnappers, a hard time, that’s for sure.”

“I heard nothing. Nothing at all,” Fabian quavers.

The revelation shakes me. The girl’s only five years old! Ican’t fathom what she endured. Rage bubbles within me, aiming for Fabian, but I push it down. Now is not the time for blame.

Huxley bends down, retrieving a shimmering object. “What have we here?”

A golden pin comes into the light, sinister and out of place.

“That doesn’t belong to Kayla,” Fabian stutters.

“Pass it here,” I command as the emblem comes into clearer view—a trio of serpentine lines cradling a gun-bearing hand, a symbol that haunts my darkest recollections. My gaze whips to Fabian, piercing him with an accusatory stare. “The Blackwater Brutes—you had dealings with them, didn’t you? Back in the day?”

“No! I never knew them!” Fabian denies.

“Or perhaps you’ve rekindled that old connection?” I press, my suspicion deepening. His recent wealth. Did he really gain it through legitimate means?

“Those mercenaries tangled with West Sun Corporation, not me. Do you think I’d let those men harass you like that?”

More than harass! They obliterated us. But I keep it to myself while Huxley’s eyes are on me, a question lingering in them as he tries to connect the pin to my past, the past I’ve fought hard to keep at bay.

I pivot away, and Huxley’s arms are there. “Savannah?” He searches my face. “These Blackwater Brutes men. They’re the ones behind your scar?”

Reluctantly, I admit, “Yes, I did kill one of the juniors and even managed to shoot the leader he was supposed to protect. Unfortunately, the leader somehow survived.”

I whip my head to the side, hiding my disgust.How could I have missed his heart?If I had a chance to relive that day, I’d aim half an inch closer to the left.

“Sav?” Hux touches my hand.

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