Page 39 of Gage

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “My brothers never wanted me in the family because I wasn’t a man.”

Oliver frowned. “Did they tell you that?”

“They didn’t have to,” she said bitterly. “They made it clear by never including me in anything they did.”

I exhaled, thinking it over. “I know that in your country, traditions are different from ours. Maybe if you sat down with your brothers and talk—”

“I don’t want to talk to my brothers,” she interrupted, her tone cold. “And I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I’m going to rest my eyes.”

“I understand that,” Oliver said. “I just lost my parents and a brother recently, and I know how painful that is. I wouldn’t want you to experience that kind of loss without making things right with your brothers.”

Aya’s jaw tightened. “I’m not talking about my brothers anymore. I know where I stand with them, and they don’t like me. That’s all there is to it.”

I thought she might start crying. She sniffed and turned her head away. Oliver just sat there, calm as always—the best listener in the world.

“It’s just…” Her voice wavered. “I didn’t know Mama was sick. If I had, I would have gone to be with her. Now, she’s gone. We talked on the phone a few times a week, and even though my brothers and I don’t get along, I still love them. But they don’t love me.”

“I’m sure they do,” Oliver said gently. “I’ll tell you something that’s been weighing on me. When my brother died, I would have given anything for one more conversation. But our last talk ended in an argument—I yelled at him. When my sister called to tell me he was gone, the pain in my chest was unbearable.” He thumped his fist lightly against his heart. “It’s still here.”

Aya reached over and took Oliver’s hand. “I’m sorry. That must have been so hard. What am I supposed to do?”

Oliver held her gaze. “When you see your brothers, hug them. If your younger brother tries to start something, tell him you’re only there for your mother. Your heart is broken—that’s what matters.”

She nodded. “I will. Thank you.” A small smile broke through her grief. “You should be a counselor.”

Oliver chuckled.

“Did your parents pass before your brother?” she asked.

“No. My brother died first. Then my parents passed—just two months apart.”

Aya shook her head, then leaned back and closed her eyes. Her husband reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently. That simple gesture reminded me that first impressions could be misleading.

I still had my doubts about her brother actually wanting to kill her, but she was paying a lot of money for our protection. And that’s precisely what we’d do—protect all of them.

I went up to the cockpit, where Gideon was flying the plane, and settled into the co-pilot’s seat. I glanced at the controls, ensuring everything was running smoothly. It reminded me of Lori rewiring one of our other planes—though it was still undergoing a full overhaul.

“How’s everything back there?” Gideon asked.

“Oliver talked to the wife,” I said. “We learned she truly loves her family but thinks her brothers don’t love her. You know how Oliver is—one word from him, and she spilled her whole story. She’s upset she didn’t get to speak to her mother before she died.”

“So, you don’t think her brother will actually hurt her?”

I exhaled. “I hope not. They argued over the phone, and in the heat of the moment, he threatened to kill her if she tried taking the medals from their older brother. Honestly, it sounds like a sibling feud.”

Gideon raised a brow. “That’s an expensive feud. They hired three of us to fly them here. Would be nice if we didn’t have to dodge bullets.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But we still have to be on guard. Family fights can turn ugly fast. People let their emotions take over, and before they know it, they’ve done something they can’t take back.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Gideon said.

I nodded. “Yeah. Hopefully, it’s nothing.”

24

Lori

I wasbusy working on my piece about former military personnel who had transitioned into high-security bodyguards, using their skills to rescue people worldwide. Listening to their experiences fascinated me—this was their way of continuing to serve, of doing what they did best: keeping people safe.

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