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The chilly air nips my skin, but it’s a familiar cold, one I’ve battled all my life. Right now, it’s the only thing I relate to amid the sights and sounds of our surroundings.
Monty may know these places, these routines, but for Frankie, I trust no one.
My protection isn’t passive. It’s an active, constant thing as I probe the sprawling expanse of concrete and snow, the distant mountains, and the few private jets scattered across the field.
“Stay close.” Kody grips her hand, scanning the area, too.
She’s used to this—the commotion, the people, the world beyond the wilds of Hoss. This may be a controlled environment, but the openness of the space, the shadowed areas beneath the planes, all of it triggers my vigilance.
Her safety is my responsibility, a weight I shoulder willingly, fiercely.
Together, we trudge toward the sleek jet, its wings slashing against the gray sky. We slow our steps to maintain Frankie’s stiff pace, refusing to rush her as she works through her rising panic.
With Kody’s focus on her, mine remains razor-sharp on the less visible corners of our path, the places where someone could hide, the angles of approach a stalker might use if they’re watching.
The crunch of our boots on the lightly frosted ground, the clatter of a cart being loaded, the hum of engines, the muffled conversations of the ground crew—every noise is cataloged and analyzed for its threat level.
A ground worker passes too close for my liking, and my body tenses, ready to act. But he moves on without giving us a second glance, and I force myself to relax.
I note the positions of the cameras on the hangar walls and the faces of the crew. I commit everything to memory. Every detail matters, every observation could be the difference between safety and danger.
Monty meets us halfway, halting us mid-step as his eyes narrow on Frankie. “What’s wrong?”
I grit my teeth, biting back the fuck you that surges, resenting how keenly he sees her, how intimately he understands her.
“I’m fine.” She fidgets, glancing at the plane.
He follows her gaze, his forehead knitting. Then his lips part, and he drags a hand down his face. “Shit. I didn’t think.” His gaze softens as he steps closer. “We don’t have to fly. We can drive to Sitka. It’ll take a few days by car, but it’s an option. Or a yacht. It’ll take longer, but we can manage.”
“No.” She shakes her head vehemently, her chest hitching in shallow, uneven motions. “I can do this.”
But her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated. She’s panicking.
Everything inside me screams to grab her and carry her away from this. From him. But she doesn’t want to be sheltered. She wants to be brave.
If she only knew how goddamn brave she already is.
Monty’s hand twitches at his side as if he wants to reach out and comfort her, too. It makes me burn with jealousy, my face stinging with heat.
“Fuck that.” He removes his phone and taps on the screen. “I’ll make other arrangements. Go back to the car.”
“Don’t.” She reaches for his device.
He holds it above her head and continues typing on it. “It’s been a tough few days, and we have other options. I won’t force you to endure any more hardships.”
She stiffens, her eyes darting between Monty, Kody, and me, a flicker of resolve flashing across her striking features.
“I need to get this over with, Monty.” She sets her fists on her hips, the tension in her posture betraying her struggle. “I need to go home.”
Home.
Fuck if that doesn’t punch me in the gut.
Kody and I are her home.
Monty’s expression gentles, the muscles in his jaw loosening.
“All right.” He steps back, pocketing his phone. “But if you change your mind at any point, let me know.”
