Page 15 of Bred By the Mercenary

With my pepper spray raised and ready, I step inside, every sense heightened. I’m prepared to defend myself, but the silence of the apartment is unnerving. I move slowly, scanning the damage, flipping on every single light in the apartment.

Anger boils up inside me that he’d do this to my home. What would he have done if I had been here? That scares me worse.

Trembling, I scramble to lock the door. Then I grab a chair, one of the few things not completely destroyed, and jam it under the door handle, hoping it will offer some additional security. I move through the apartment, checking every cupboard, under the bed, and every possible hiding place to ensure I’m alone. The reality of the situation reminds me that Ryker could come back, and I know deep down that he will.

Exhausted and scared, I collapse onto the torn couch, my body shaking with sobs. I’m struggling to hold it together, unsure if I can stay here alone, especially with the threat of him returning. My apartment, once my home, now feels like the walls are closing in around me.

My gaze falls on my phone next to me, and before I realize it, I’m staring at Daxton’s earlier message. My mind races back to that night at the party and how swiftly he handled that asshole.

Calling him should be my last resort, and it dawns on me that I’ve reached that point. With shaky hands, I sent him a message.

Hey, I’m in a bit of trouble. Any chance you’re free to come over?

Seconds later, his response comes through.

What happened? Are you okay?

Please just come over.I quickly type out my address and hit send.

I’ll be there.Then silence.

I’m unsure where to even begin with the cleanup. I’m equally unsure what to ask of Daxton when he arrives, but right now, I just need someone. Anyone. The feeling of dread and the thought of being alone in this mess is unbearable.

It surprised me when I received a message from Daxton, barely fifteen minutes later.

I’m downstairs and coming up.

Up on my feet, I wish the landlord could have at least fixed the broken security locks on the downstairs doors, as that would have helped keep Ryker out. Maybe. I don’t know, but when a knock comes at the door, Daxton’s deep voice follows.

“Amelia, it’s me. Open up.”

Rushing to the door, I swiftly move the chair aside and pull it open. Daxton stands there, dressed in jeans, heavy boots, and a black Henley shirt that clings to his muscles, outlining every curve and angle of his body. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, his presence strangely comforting. He’s also breathing heavily, as if he might have run here. His brows are furrowed, a look of worry etching his features. Is he really that concerned about me?

As he steps inside, his gaze sweeps over the mess in my apartment.

“What happened? Who did this?” he asks in that deep voice that has me staring at him a bit too long.

Tears well up in my eyes again, and I hate how weak I feel, how vulnerable.

Here’s Daxton, standing in the midst of my ruined home, showing concern that feels genuine. I barely know the guy, but it’s him I called for help. What does that say about me?

He wraps his arms around me, and I melt into his embrace. His body is warm, solid, and his scent is a mixture of something woodsy and sexy. It swallows me. It feels right, like I belong here, in his arms.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise. You did well to call me,” he says softly, his voice soothing.

Finally pulling back, I wipe my eyes, trying to compose myself.

“I really didn’t want to bug you, and after everything... but I had no one else. You handled that guy at the party so easily, and...” My words trail off into gasps for air.

Daxton gently pushes the hair out of my face and lifts my chin, forcing me to look into his hypnotic green eyes.

“Do you know who did this? I can fix it,” he says, his voice steady and determined.

“F-Fix it how?” I stammer in a whisper. “I just don’t think I can stay here alone. I—I...” More tears stream down my face. “This is my home, and now he’s made it feel unsafe.”

Daxton studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable, almost dark.

“Come, let’s get your stuff and get you out of here. We can talk later, okay?”

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