Page 12 of Deadly Hope
His phone dinged softly. He glanced at the ongoing group text.
Kenji: Guys we need a name.
Ronan: Not this again.
Deke: We already have a name. SEAL Team.
Zara: Hellooo? You’re literally all SEALs except me.
Deke: Fine. SEAL Team Plus One.
Zara: I will end you.
Kenji: STEAM Team! (Strategic Tactical Elite Asset Management)
Axel: Hard no.
Deke: Flipper Force.
Ronan: I’m leaving this chat.
Izzy: Chantal votes for Unicorn Candy Team, because, you know, she’s six.
Deke: Better than STEAM Team.
Kenji: Hey!
Axel rolled his eyes.Finding something to replace “puppies” wasn’t going to happen any time soon, clearly.
Flashing lights caught his eye—another patrol car making its useless loop. He clenched his jaw, remembering the dismissive tone of the detective who’d taken Olivia’s statement. “Probably a disgruntled patient, or the boyfriend of one,” one of the officers had said, completely missing the professional edge to the break-in.
His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. The police didn’t understand that someone with that level of skill wouldn’t give up after one failed attempt. And they definitely hadn’t noticed how the “intruder” had focused on Olivia’s patient files rather than the expensive equipment in plainsight.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” he muttered, but the words rang hollow.
He should be home, sleeping in preparation for another grueling pre-dawn workout. Instead, he was parked in the bitter cold, watching over a woman who didn’t want his help. A woman who was supposed to help him deal with his protective obsessions, not trigger new ones. But he’d learned the hard way that “should” meant nothing when your instincts were screaming. And every instinct he had said Dr. Olivia Kane was still in danger.
Movement at her window snapped his attention into sharp focus. Just the woman doing her nightly routine—checking locks, drawing curtains. The same methodical efficiency he’d learned in places where survival depended on attention to detail. Except she was a civilian, a therapist who should never have needed these skills. Until today.
Her silhouette paused at each window, lingering too long, movements too precise. He recognized the hypervigilance, had seen it in too many faces after their first brush with violence. He still caught himself doing perimeter checks of his own apartment, years after leaving the service. But watching Olivia perform the same ritual made his chest tight in a way combat never had.
The lights dimmed one by one—kitchen, living room, hallway. Like a countdown in reverse, each darkened window amplifying the silence. Only her bedroom light remained, casting a warm rectangle onto the snow-dusted lawn. His thermal scanner showed no other heat signatures around the property. No footprints in the fresh snow except for the mail carrier’s from hours ago.
He should have seen the signs earlier, in her office. A therapist specializing in high-risk professionals, working alone, keeping paper files in an age of digital records—itmade her vulnerable. But he’d been too focused on his own issues, on maintaining the professional distance that was already crumbling like the snow against his windshield.
A shadow crossed her bedroom window, followed by darkness. Axel shifted in his seat, ignoring the familiar ache in his left shoulder—a souvenir from an old mission gone wrong. The smart play would be to call in backup, let Knight Tactical handle this officially.
But until Dr. Kane agreed, he was stuck on solo duty.
The bedroom light had been out for twenty minutes when his phone buzzed.
Deke: DJ skipped algebra again. Kid’s gonna give me gray hair before he hits graduation.
Axel’s thumbs hovered over the keys, but his mind drifted back to earlier that day—Olivia standing in her ransacked office, steel in her spine as she cataloged the damage. Most people would have broken down. She’d methodically documented everything, then refused to leave until she’d gathered up an armload of patient files.
Another buzz.
Kenji: I’m laying down $50 on the Rockets. They’re due for a win. Anybody else in?
