Page 96 of The Bodyguard Situation

It’s moments when I can’t stop admiring her that I’m reminded exactly how far I’ve fallen. Every instinct screams at me to shield her, to pull her back into my arms, to keep her locked safely here, away from everything dark. But our reality waits for no one, and this place is no longer safe with Micah on the loose.

Harper’s pretty eyes meet mine across the small bedroom. She pauses, fingers lingering on a folded sweater.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask, knowing she’s lost in thought.

I move to her; my heart lurches at the fear lingering in her eyes.

“Just thinking about things,” she says.

Since last night, when we received that frantic call from Billie, Harper has been on edge.

My smile fades, replaced by seriousness. “No matter what comes next, we’ll walk through the fire together.”

Harper steps closer to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I’m really scared.”

“I know,” I say, holding her against me. “I’ve got you.”

She leans forward, resting her forehead against my chest, breathing as I wrap an arm tighter around her waist, holding her close.

Her voice is muffled. “I wish we could stay here. Just you and me. Everything feels simpler here.”

I rest my cheek against her hair, memorizing her scent, her warmth, and the steady beat of her heart. “Me too. But we’ll carry a piece back with us and come visit when it’s safe again.” I smile. “We’ve changed here.”

She nods, pushing back just enough to meet my eyes. “You’re right. We have.”

Silence settles around us. We both know the peace we feel here is fragile and temporary, but we cling to it, savoring the last precious minutes we have left.

Finally, reluctantly, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Finish packing. The helicopter will arrive soon.”

Harper sighs, stepping back, gathering her folded clothes. “I’m almost done. What will happen to Easton’s car?”

“He’s scheduled a transport to deliver it back to the city.”

“Oh,” she says.

I watch her for a few seconds longer before moving into the living room. Bags are scattered on the floor, one is packed with clothes and the other holds my gear. I systematically check my inventory of weapons, my mind already racing forward to what awaits us in the city. Micah, the public fallout, the uncertainty of Mia—it’s overwhelming. Being here is the true calm before the storm that’s waiting for us on the horizon.

Harper deserves peace and to feel safe. She should be able to live her life without shadows looming. If it costs me everything, I’ll make damn sure she gets that. Because protecting Harper Alexander isn’t just another promise I made to my cousin. She’s become my everything.

She’s the person who’s awakened parts of me I thought died years ago, who’s reminded me there is a life waiting for us that’s worth fighting for.

I haul the last bag onto the porch, setting it down with a thud as the familiar distant chop of helicopter blades grows louder. Harper steps out behind me, eyes lifted toward the sky, squinting in the sunlight. A breeze catches in her hair, lifting it around her face. She looks like a woman who’s ready to face whatever waits beyond this mountain—stronger, steadier, healed in ways I’ve only begun to understand.

“There it is,” she says, stepping closer as the chopper crests the tree line and descends toward the clearing. Her hand slips into mine, squeezing.

I squeeze back. “Ready?”

Harper nods once. “I have no choice.”

I lean in close, pressing a quick kiss against her temple. “This is almost over.”

The helicopter settles smoothly on the grass, blades still spinning. I gather our bags, and we move across the yard. When we’re twenty feet from the door, a noise cuts through the rhythmic pounding of rotor blades.

It’s the sound of a distant engine, faint, but it’s growing louder. Something about it feels off. Wrong.

I tense, immediately scanning the winding mountain road visible between the trees. Dust kicks up, clouding the air as a sleek black car comes into view, speeding toward the cabin at a dangerous pace.

Harper stiffens beside me, her fingers tightening around mine. Her voice is edged with sudden panic. “Brody, that’s …”

---