Page 128 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

And the faintest hint of smoke.

I smile.

They’re waiting.

I make my way toward the balcony, drawn to the flickering glow of the grill outside.

And then I see Hank.

He stands at the grill, biceps rippling beneath sun-bronzed skin as he turns the steaks. His faded T-shirt strains against the powerful expanse of his back, revealing the topography of muscle that shifts with every precise movement. His stance is effortless, deceptively casual, but there’s no mistaking the coiled power beneath it—the kind of strength forged through years of relentless training, pushing his body past thresholds where ordinary men would break.

Gabe is just beyond him, setting the table. The sharp cut of his jaw catches the amber glow of the patio lights, shadows playing in the hollow beneath his cheekbones. He moves differently—controlled, deliberate, like a predator conserving energy until the moment to strike. His body is leaner than Hank’s but no less deadly, the fluid grace in his movements speaking of violence held in perfect check. When he reaches across the table, I glimpse scarred knuckles, a warrior’s hands.

The air between them crackles with unspoken communication, the silent understanding of men who have faced death together and emerged victorious.

And yet, as I stand here, watching them, I don’t think about the men they’ve been trained to be—the warriors, the killers, the soldiers.

I think about the men they are.

Men who fight. Who save.

Who use their strength to take lives when necessary—and to protect the ones who matter.

Men who turn that same relentless focus toward making love, toward stripping me bare in every possible way and leaving me utterly wrecked in their arms.

Men who have already claimed me.

A slow warmth spreads through my chest, something more profound than attraction, something quieter than lust.

It’s not just the raw, primal draw of their bodies, though God knows that’s there. It’s how they devote themselves—fully, completely, without hesitation. To their work. To their team. To me.

I’m already falling in love.

Not in the all-consuming, desperate way I’ve felt attraction before.

This is slower. Heavier.

And as I watch them—Hank rolling his shoulders, muscles shifting as he flips the steak, Gabe adjusting the silverware with his usual sharp-eyed precision—I want to follow where they lead.

I step outside, leaning against the railing as I take them both in.

Gabe glances up first, catching me watching. His smirk is slow, knowing.

“You gonna keep staring, sweetheart, or you coming to eat?”

Hank huffs a quiet chuckle, plating the steaks. “Can’t blame her. We are a lot to take in.”

I shake my head, but my lips twitch. “Oh, I know that.”

Gabe laughs, shaking his head as he pulls out my chair. “Come on, Ally. Dinner first.” His gaze flickers with something darker. “Then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

I don’t argue.

I sit between them, feeling something shift—something deeper, something undeniable.

“This is nice,” I murmur, cutting into my steak.

Gabe smirks. “Good food, good view.” His gaze flicks to me. “Great company.”

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