AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Not just your team, Creed." There's a pause, and I can almost hear him choosing his next words with care. "We want you."
A dry chuckle escapes me before I can reel it back. "Me? Personally? Shit, Simon, it's been years since?—"
"I know," he cuts in, all business now. "But you're the best. And she’ll trust you."
Trust me? That's rich. We shared one night—a collision of need and desperation—and that means she’ll trust me?
I lean back in my chair, eyes darting to the commendations on the wall. Each one is a battle fought, a life saved. And now Sasha's life is in someone's crosshairs.
"Fine," I say finally. "Send me the details."
"Thanks, man." He exhales—a sound heavy with relief. "I knew you were the one to call."
As we end the call, I stand and pace the room, a caged animal in its den. The commendations on the wall stare back at me, reminders of all I've done—and all I've sacrificed for control and protection.
And Sasha? She’d slipped through my fingers like smoke.
In the solitude of my office, I find myself at a crossroads. Sasha isn’t just another name on a client list; she's a piece of my history, a chapter I thought I'd closed long ago.
I lean against the window, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat of my thoughts. Memories rush me—the curve of her smile in the darkened club, her voice whispering my name like it was something sacred, the promise in her touch that felt like forever.
I shove them aside with practiced ease—or so I tell myself—and focus on what needs to be done. This is about protection; this is what I do best.
But as much as I try to push down the rise of emotions at the thought of seeing her again... they're there—unwelcome and undeniable—stirring beneath my skin like a storm waiting to break.
Taking on Sasha's case isn't just a matter of professional duty; it’s a chance to face the one that got away. It's a risk—a gamble—with my heart on the line. But it's also a shot at redemption for the man I was and the man I've become.
I know the risks, the potential for fallout. But I also know that when it comes to Sasha, there's no choice to make. I'll always choose to protect her, to be the shield she needs against the darkness that threatens to consume her.
I never planned on returning to the field. After hanging up my boots and holster, I thought my days of close protection were behind me. I built a fortress of wealth, a castle of success where I could try to forget the things I'd done, the lives I couldn't save. My new battlefield was boardrooms and philanthropy galas, where the stakes were high but not deadly. I had a team for that now—men and women who'd stand in harm's way so I didn't have to.
I could've passed it off to one of my guys—should've, by all accounts. But something primal rose up in me, a fierce need to be the one who stood between her and this faceless menace. It was madness; I had a billion dollar security firm with more resources than most small countries, yet here I was looking forward to this gig like some rookie bodyguard playing a hero.
The clang of metal echoes through my private gym as I slam the weights back on the rack. Sweat drips from my brow, stinging my eyes, but it's nothing compared to the sting of old memories resurfacing.
"Piece of cake," I mutter to myself, though each rep feels like lifting the weight of my past with Sasha.
The door swings open and Derek strides in, his imposing frame filling the doorway. The scar running down his cheek serves as a constant reminder of our shared history. "Talking to yourself again, Axel?"
"Just working through some things," I grunt, grabbing a towel and wiping my face. "What's up?"
He leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Got an update from Simon. He's sending over Sasha's schedule and some recent photos of the stalker."
I nod, tossing the towel aside and moving to the bench press. The iron offers no judgment, no lingering glances.
Derek watches me for a moment. "You sure you're ready for this? Being face to face with Sasha after all these years?"
I can't help but smirk as I position myself under the barbell. "It's just another job, Derek. I've got this."
With a smooth motion, I lift the bar, letting the burn in my muscles ground me back to reality. Each press is a reminder—I'm here to do a job, not rekindle some long-lost love affair.
"Just another job, huh?" Derek raises an eyebrow. "Is that why you're pushing yourself extra hard today?"
"You know me," I say as I push out another rep, "always striving for perfection."
"Right." Derek doesn't sound convinced. "And those extra sets? That's just you being thorough?"
The barbell clinks back into place. "Thoroughly prepared," I correct him, sitting up.
