Page 11 of Provoking Bryan

Bryan tilted his head, studying her, his expression softening just slightly. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Sara. You don’t have to carry it all alone.”

The words hit her like a blow, her carefully controlled facade cracking under the weight of his quiet intensity. She looked away, her throat tight, the vulnerability too much to face head-on.

“I don’t need saving,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “Especially not here, not now, and not by you.”

“I’m not trying to save you,” Bryan said, his tone gentler but no less firm. “But maybe you need to let someone in.”

He took another step towards her, his eyes locking on hers, the air between them seeming to hum with unspoken possibilities. But then she stepped back, the movement abrupt, breaking whatever spell had held them.

“This can’t happen,” she said, her voice steadier now, though her hands still trembled at her sides.

Bryan nodded slowly, his gaze unreadable. “You’re right. It can’t.”

Neither of them moved for a long moment, the silence heavy with everything left unsaid. Then Bryan turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the darkness. He wasn’t just another assignment. He felt like a ticking time bomb, and she wasn’t sure she didn’t want to stick around to see him explode.

4

BRYAN

As the ping of a gunshot sparked off the medical transport truck, Bryan ducked.What the fuck? At least in Chicago it didn’t feel like every time he turned around someone was trying to kill him.The sound echoed through the camp, silencing the distant hum of the generator and the rustle of the savanna. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging as he spun toward the sound.

The bullet had missed him, but not by much. A jagged dent in the side of the truck was proof enough.

“Sara!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the stunned silence.

She was already moving, her gun drawn as she sprinted toward the source of the shot. “Stay down!” she barked over her shoulder.

Bryan didn’t argue—there wasn’t time. Staying low, he helped Lara and the others move patients out of the line of fire. Dropping behind a stack of crates, he scanned the tree line, searching for the shooter. His instincts roared to life, the disciplined calm from years of military training kicking in.

A figure emerged from the shadows, rifle raised. Bryan’s muscles coiled, but before he could react, a second gunshot rang out. This one came from Sara.

The lone gunman dropped, his body crumpling to the ground with a dull thud.

Bryan rose cautiously, his gaze flicking between Sara and the fallen attacker. She was already moving toward the body, her steps swift and purposeful.

“Stay here,” she ordered without looking back.

“Like hell I will,” Bryan muttered, following her despite the warning.

Sara crouched beside the gunman, checking his weapon and searching his pockets. Her movements were methodical, professional, but Bryan could see the tension in her shoulders.

“He’s alone,” she said, standing and turning to face him. “For now.”

Bryan’s jaw tightened. “You think more are coming?”

“Probably,” Sara said bluntly. “This isn’t going to stop, Bryan. They know where you are, and they’re not going to quit until you’re dead.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. Bryan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not leaving,” he said firmly.

“You don’t have a choice,” Sara snapped, her voice rising. “This isn’t just about you anymore. Every time they come for you, you’re putting everyone here in danger. The staff. The patients. All of them.”

Bryan met her gaze, frustration and guilt twisting in his chest. She was right, and he hated it.

“What’s your plan?” he asked finally, his tone clipped.

“We relocate you,” she said. “There’s a safe house along the coast. Isolated, secure. You stay there until we figure out how best to deal with this.”

Bryan crossed his arms, his stance defiant. “And how long am I supposed to hide away while the people here need me?”

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