Page 22 of Her Remarkable Protector

I push through the pain, dragging myself upright and pulling Oakley close.

“No one’s getting hurt,” Chase says, his voice steady, almost soothing. Behind him, Ethan eases his grip on the gun, but his stance stays rigid, his eyes locked on me and Chase.

“Let me help you sit.” Chase steps closer, hand outstretched.

I shove up my palm to stop him. “Don’t.” My voice wavers, but I force my feet to move. Every step is war, my body screaming, but I reach the couch and sink into its worn cushions. Shallow breaths keep me from breaking as I glare up at him. “So Mira Stone sent you?”

Chase’s expression flickers—barely—but I catch it. “She’s his mother.”

Physically, I’m no match for Chase Samson. Or his partner. Ethan might lack Chase’s brute force, but his stance speaks volumes. If I’m going to save Oakley, I need these so-called Red Mark men—whatever the hell that means—to believe me. Oakley doesn’t belong to the Stones. He never did.

“You said you’re with some rescue firm?” I say. “The Stones must’ve paid you handsomely.”

“Red Mark Rescue and Protect,” Chase replies, unflinching. “I’m Chase Samson. My partner, Ethan Connor.”

“Then let me make something clear, sir.” My voice rises—partly to make a point, and partly to mask the pain wrecking me. “This isn’t a rescue mission. And if you’re a real protector, you should know—his home isn’t safety. Mira Stone isn’t safety.”

I tug Oakley’s arm forward, turning it to show the scar that snakes along his forearm. “Last summer his father broke his arm. You want to know why? He spilled a few drops of gas refueling his old man’s Harley.”

Chase doesn’t move. His gaze lingers on the scar.

“And this,” I press on, my hand trembling as I point to the faint stitch line along Oakley’s nose, “was from his mother slamming his head into a table.”

I wait, studying Chase. No one says a thing.

Then I reveal, “No reason. She was just drunk.”

Oakley flinches. The betrayal flashes across his face, but I had no choice. Chase has to hear it.

“Please.” Oakley’s voice is small, desperate. “Don’t take me back to my mother. Don’t.”

My belly hardens. Pain ripples through me again—relentless. I grip the couch for control, clenching my teeth so hard I taste blood.

Not now. Not now.

I lock eyes with Chase, desperation cracking through me like glass. “If you have any honor, you’ll give Stone’s money back and walk away.”

Chase doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze weighs on me, as though he’s assessing everything I’m made of. Then, finally, he nods. For the first time, I believe he’s really on our side.

“We’re here for Oakley,” he says, his tone resolute. “Money doesn’t drive our decisions, Ms. Deveraux. But here’s the situation—his home isn’t safe, his mother isn’t safe, and neither are you.”

The truth of his words hits me like a hammer, just as another contraction claws through me. I bite back a cry. Whatever happens next, Oakley can’t see it. He’s too young to watch me unravel like this.

Chase steps forward, solid as a rock. “Oakley will go with Ethan. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Ethan straightens beside him, his voice firm but gentler than I expect. “I promise, Ms. Deveraux. He’ll be safe with me.”

Safe.It’s unfamiliar, but I can only hope they mean it.

“You go with Ethan, okay?” I whisper to Oakley, loosening my grip on his arm. My voice trembles, but I force it steady. “I’ll be fine.”

“Honor, no!” Oakley’s face crumples. His wide eyes search mine, begging me, as if letting him go will be the worst mistake I ever make.

I cling to him for a heartbeat longer, torn.

Chase doesn’t take his eyes off me, his jaw locked tight. “Oakley will be safe with Ethan,” he repeats, like his assurance alone could shield the boy from every danger in the world.

But I have to be sure. “Do you even know who you’re dealing with, sir?” I snap, my voice raw. He should know already. He was one of them, once. And he needs reminding. “It’s not just Mira Stone—it’s the whole Stoneborn Circle.”

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