Page 88 of Her Redeemed Protector

Huxley pauses, visibly gathering himself. His hands form tight fists at his sides, and his jaw clenches. “After everything that happened in the jungle…” He touches the scar on his face almost reflexively, a telltale sign he’s revisiting that dark day. “I told you the cartel killed Valentina.”

“Yeah,” I acknowledge.

He shakes his head, a shadow passing over his face. “They didn’t just kill her. They mutilated her.” He pauses, his breath catching, then he curses through gritted teeth, “Her body?—”

I remain silent, giving him space, watching as he battles the demons of his past right in front of me. It’s clear there’s more tormenting him than just the brutality of Valentina’s fate.

Finally, he looks at me, his eyes haunted and deep. “The butchers of the cartel...” he starts, his voice trembling. “They severed her body in two. It’s their signature. The top half was discovered on a worn church bench.” His hands move to cover his face as he grapples with the memory so grotesque and shocking.

Then he rises with an agonized growl. “Those damn rats!” He slams his boot against the packed earth of the barnyard. The disgust and rage in his expression are more intense than I’ve ever seen. “They feasted on what remained of her.”

This is brutality beyond what a human being should ever have to comprehend. Huxley has borne the weight of this secret alone, shielding others from the dark reality while somehow maintaining his own sanity. It’s a testament to his strength and how he has managed to compartmentalize such a horrendous truth.

“Oh, Hux. I’m so sorry...” Protocol be damned, I can’t help myself and rise to my feet to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Although he holds himself rigid, as if comfortis the last thing he needs, I can’t suppress my instinct to try to ease his pain.

Gradually, he relaxes into my arms, his facade of toughness melting away. He whispers, his voice barely audible, “That night, when you and I argued, I should’ve told you, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Hux. I walked out on you without giving you a chance to explain.” My own regret mingles with his.

He caresses my cheeks, looking into my eyes. “I didn’t give you a chance, Sav. It was my fault, I’m sorry. And maybe that was what I was trying to say in my sleep, something that I couldn’t in my waking life. That I’m sorry—to you and to Valentina.” His confession is raw, his emotions unfiltered.

I thumb away the tears that escape his eyes, pulling him close again, holding onto the man who, despite his outward strength, now seems so defenseless.

“You received a call that night, and it upset you, didn’t it?” I ask, piecing together the fragments of that painful evening.

“Valentina’s mother called me. She told me that they finally found the rest of her remains. That’s why I was in the dining room, crying with Valentina’s photo in my hand.” His voice breaks as he continues, “I longed for her so badly. I just wanted her to have a moment to hear how sorry I was for letting her down and for the torture she must’ve endured.”

I nod, leaning in, a gesture to show I’m not running away.

“But know this, Sav, even in that moment, I never stopped thinking of you. I never stopped loving you. You’re never second best to me. Never.”

I rest my forehead against his chest, drawing solace from the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm I’ve missed more than I realized. His arms wrap around me, his touch reaffirming that he’s truly here, with me.

“Hux… I was too harsh on you. I reacted without understanding the full story,” I admit, my voice muffled against his shirt.

“Because I didn’t share it with you,” he responds.

His hands cradle my face, lifting it so he can see the pain reflected in my glassy eyes. He knows this hurts us both.

“I swear on my life, Sav. I love you. I love you in a way I never loved her,” he confesses, his voice imbued with earnestness. The use of the past tense—loved—marks a clear boundary between then and now.

“Valentina and I… we had a bond. The danger we were in kept us connected, yes, but it was more about protection,” he continues, his eyes searching mine for understanding. “I won’t deny there was love there, something I fought for because I had a dream.”

“Love starts with a dream,” I say, prompting him to reflect.

“You have to know this. That love was different. If you believe there are different types of love.”

I take a slow breath, releasing it as I mull over the concept. How you love someone depends on who that person is. The way I loved Fabian was night and day compared to how I love Hux. “I do,” I reply.

“I may sound absurd, but I was so desperate to be Valentina’s defender, to be the man I thought I should’ve been. It was all superlative, yet we never explored what our togetherness really meant. And I’ve stopped asking myself that, voluntarily, happily. Because…” He cups my chin, his touch tender. “Because I’m with you. You’re absolutely right that love starts with a dream. I thought you were my dream, Sav. But, you and me, it’s something else. It’s deep, it’s real.”

His words, clear yet heartfelt, allay my doubts.

He continues, “You fill me with awe and contentment. It’s hard to describe, but it’s like I’m bathed in unearthly rain, leaving me euphoric inside. I mean...”

I interrupt, lightening the mood with my own interpretation of his statement. “The sex was amazing?”

A smile spreads across his face. “Hell, Sav, it was mind-blowing!”

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