Page 80 of Her Remarkable Protector

Did everything happen just to tighten the tether of my guilt even further?

If so, whoever designed my life nailed it.

The memory of finding her—frozen, looking at me with those eyes that begged for help—still haunts me. The moment I carried her, trembling and terrified. The streak of her mother’s blood on her T-shirt. The words I spat out, telling her to run. They’re all knotted inside me now, refusing to loosen.

Having Honor in my life—not just as the girl I saved, but as the woman I loved—only tightens the chokehold. And the worst part? I still love her. Maybe I was too blind to see it, too used to living with no attachment. But now I know—you don’t just erase a feeling that strong.

This isn’t just a suck. It’s a fucking void.

Letting go has always been my specialty. No drama, no mess—always with women who understood the unspoken agreement: ‘let’s see what happens.’ Nothing that required me to dig too deep or get too vulnerable. It worked.

Until Honor.

I didn’t choose to fall for her. If I could strip away accountability, I’d say it was out of my hands. On a normal day, she wouldn’t have been my type—single mother, entangled with the last man on earth I’d want to cross paths with, and capable of walking away as if I were nothing but a smudge on her boots. Sure, I screwed up. Badly. But I didn’t kill her father. That blood isn’t on my hands, no matter what she’s chosen to believe. And haven’t I shown her, time and time again, that I deserve a second chance?

What hurt more? The fact that I believed her. I believed she’d opened up to me, that she loved me the way I loved her. She never said the words, but for God’s sake! Love is supposed to be more than just words, isn’t it? Or is that just another lie we tell ourselves?

Whoever she is—or was—and whatever brief chapter of my life she occupied, one thing’s certain: I fell for a liar. A damn good one.

But life goes on. Right now, life involves welcoming Red Mark’s newest recruit, Rhea Sable. The command center finally has a queen.

I walk into the conference room where she and Red Mark’s head of HR are wrapping up the paperwork.

“Welcome aboard, Rhea,” I say, extending a hand.

“Thanks, Mr. Samson,” she replies. Shoulders back, chin up—confident but not cocky. I like that.

“Come on. I’ll show you around.” I motion for her to follow as Ethan falls into step beside us.

The tour begins with the basics, but even the basics at Red Mark HQ are impressive. The kitchen is equipped with state-of-the-art appliances, enough coffee machines to fuel a small army, and a communal table that feels more like a place for war councils than casual meals.

“We keep it stocked,” I tell her, gesturing toward the pantry. “If you’re a coffee drinker, this place is heaven. Ethan practically lives here.”

“Hey,” Ethan protests with a laugh. “It’s not my fault I like caffeine and snacks.”

Rhea smirks but says nothing, her eyes taking in every detail. She’s sharp. I can already tell she’s cataloging everything for future use.

We move on to the armory, where the weapons and gear gleam under the fluorescent lights. Rhea’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the way her gaze lingers, equal parts respect and curiosity.

“So far, we’ve got six ground personnel,” I explain as we step into the command center. Screens light up the space, a digital nerve center buzzing with activity. “During mission-critical moments, this is where we coordinate with them and monitor their progress. That includes working with Bozeman PD.”

“Got it,” she says, her tone all business now.

“We’re still finalizing some setups here,” I continue. “That’s where you come in.”

Her face lights up. “Sweet.”

I can tell she’s itching to dive in, but there’s one last stop I want to make. “There’s one more area I’d like to show you.”

We head to the training area, the sound of muffled voices and equipment filling the air. The space is vast, with a sparring ring, punching bags, and at the far end, the pièce de résistance—the climbing wall.

Rhea’s eyes narrow as she takes it in. “Can I?” she asks, already shrugging off her blazer.

I smirk, stepping aside. Happens every time. “Be my guest.”

She glances at Ethan, tilting her head as if issuing a silent dare. “Ethan, you in?”

“Hell yeah!” he says, already kicking off his shoes to grab a better grip.

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