Not Billie B, but Billie, my Little, the one who’s breaking down every wall I’ve built.
I’ve had boys before, quick flings between missions, but nothing like this. Nothing that made me feel like I could see a future, a real one, aForeverkind of life.
As I watch him sleep, his lips parted slightly, I can’t help but think he might be the one. The way he calls me Daddy, the way he trusts me to guide him, to keep him safe—it’s more than just a job or a fling.
It’s something deeper, something that could be permanent.
But that thought scares me as much as it thrills me.
I’m a Guard, trained to stay detached, to focus on the mission. And with Trent’s shadow looming—those cryptic emails, the file, his controlling grip on his life—I can’t let myself get lost in dreams of forever. Not yet.
A soft beep from my phone on the nightstand pulls me out of my thoughts. I ease out of bed, careful not to disturb Billie, who murmurs something and curls tighter into the pillow.
“Hmmph. Damn phone,” I mutter.
I grab the phone and step into the living area, the cold floor biting at my bare feet. The message is from Mr. G, encrypted as always, and my gut tightens as I read it…
G: Asset relocation required. Max two days remaining at current location as per protocol. Threat level elevated. Financial irregularities confirmed—manager suspect. Lone wolf not entirely ruled out, but threat considered negligible. Prep for extraction. Details to follow.
Two days.
That’s all we’ve got left in this cabin, this safe haven where Billie’s been able to be himself, to explore his Little side, to let me in.
Night Ops protocol—move fast, stay unpredictable—means we can’t stay anywhere too long, especially with a threat like this.
Trent’s name in that message confirms what I’ve been suspecting since that first email. He’s not just controlling… he’s dangerous, maybe using this threat to keep Billie out of the way while he covers his tracks.
Or worse, maybe he’s keeping Billie hidden so that he could… remove him entirely.
I need more evidence, but time’s running out.
I glance back at the bedroom door, where Billie’s sleeping, oblivious to the storm that’s not just outside.
I’m not going to let the boy down.
These next two days, I’m going to make them unforgettable for him, give him moments of joy and safety before whatever comes next. He deserves that.
I slip back into bed, tucking the phone away, and Billie stirs, snuggling closer, his warmth grounding me. I stroke his hair again, promising myself I’ll keep him safe, no matter what.
“Sleep tight, beautiful boy,” I say. “Daddy will watch you all night.”
Morning comes too soon, the blizzard still raging but the sky lighter, a pale gray through the frosted windows.
I’m up early, brewing coffee, planning the day.
Billie needs something fun, something to keep him in that Littlespace he’s been embracing.
The second snow-ski in the shed catches my eye through the window, parked up inside the open awning. Suddenly, an idea hits me. One that’s fun, but practical too…
Teaching Billie to ride it could be perfect—a thrill, a challenge, a way to make him smile.
I start prepping breakfast, simple toast and jam, and when he stumbles out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes, his snowflake pajamas rumpled, I can’t help but grin.
“Morning, Little One,” I say, setting a plate in front of him. “Eat up. We’ve got a big day.”
Billie’s eyes light up, but there’s a flicker of nervousness.
“Big day? Like what, Daddy?” He’s still shy with the word sometimes, but it’s so easy and right, and it hits me right in the chest every time. “We’re not leaving already are we?”
