Page 35 of Eden and her Mercenary
His fingers tightened around mine, and in the fading light, I saw his smile—not the dangerous one he showed the world, but something softer, meant only for me.
Later that night, with Stella snoring softly fromher bed near the woodstove, Royal and I lay tangled in sheets, my head resting on his chest as he traced patterns on my bare shoulder.
"What about your transport business?" he asked quietly. "All those dogs counting on you."
I'd been thinking about this. "I don't have to stop completely. Maybe just scale back, focus on local transports, build a network of other drivers for the longer routes."
"You could use the cabin as a way station," Royal suggested. "For dogs that need a break between long journeys."
The idea took root immediately, expanding in my mind. "We could build some outdoor runs, maybe convert that old shed into climate-controlled kennels."
Royal chuckled, the sound rumbling under my ear. "Already renovating my property, huh?"
"Our property," I corrected, then froze, suddenly uncertain. "I mean, if that's—"
He silenced me with a kiss. "Our property," he agreed when we broke apart. "Our home. Our future."
A week later, Ryker arrived with a truck full of lumber and fencing materials, Wren beside him with detailed sketches of kennel designs. Declan followed in his own vehicle, bringing tools and three workers who owed him favors. By sunset, the foundation forwhat would become the Pearl Lake Way Station for Rescue Transports was taking shape.
Stella supervised from her favorite spot on the porch, her surgical site nearly healed, her eyes brighter each day. She still startled at sudden movements, still had moments of withdrawal, but increasingly showed signs of the dog she was meant to be—intelligent, loyal, and surprisingly gentle with the first transport puppy that came through our makeshift facility two weeks later.
"She's going to be a good ambassador," Wren observed as we watched Stella carefully nudge the nervous shepherd mix toward a food bowl. "She understands trauma in a way humans never can."
I nodded, leaning against the porch railing. "It's like she knows her purpose now."
"Some souls need a mission," Wren said, her eyes drifting to where Royal and Ryker were arguing good-naturedly over the proper way to install a gate. "Others just need a place to belong."
"And some need both," I added quietly.
Wren smiled, squeezing my arm before heading back to direct the construction. I remained on the porch, watching as Stella successfully coaxed the shepherd into eating, her tail wagging with what could only be described as pride.
Royal looked up from his work, catching my eyeacross the yard. He lifted a hand in greeting, his smile visible even at this distance. I waved back, a simple gesture that somehow contained everything—gratitude, belonging, promise.
In that moment, with Stella helping another dog heal and Royal building a future neither of us had imagined weeks ago, I understood something profound: sometimes the most unexpected detours lead exactly where you're meant to be.
"Come on, Stella," I called. "Let's go home."
The pit bull looked up, her intelligent eyes meeting mine. Without hesitation, she trotted to my side, ready for whatever came next.
Together, we walked toward Royal, toward the cabin that was becoming more than just a structure in the woods—it was becoming a sanctuary, a beginning.
It was becoming a home.
Chapter 12
Royal
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the peace of the afternoon. I whirled around just as Eden's body jerked backward, her eyes widening in shock. Blood blossomed across her shirt, a crimson stain spreading with terrifying speed.
"Eden!" I lunged forward as she crumpled, catching her before she hit the ground. Her weight drove us both to our knees.
Stella erupted into frantic barking, circling us protectively as another shot splintered the wood of the porch railing inches from my head. I dragged Eden behind the solid portion of the railing, shielding her body with mine.
"Royal," she gasped, her voice already thin and reedy. "What—"
"Don't talk," I ordered, pressing my hand against the wound in her shoulder, blood seeping between my fingers. "Ryker!" I bellowed. "We're taking fire!"
My brother was already in motion, weapon drawnas he sprinted toward the tree line where the shots had originated. Wren dropped flat behind the half-built kennel wall, pulling out her phone.
