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I don’t want to try.
She’s mine.
I’d die – I’d kill – before I let anything happen to her.
And this bastard thinks that I’m going to kill her myself?
“Don’t be stupid,” the alien voice warbles. Beneath it, I can make out some emotion, urgency, and eagerness to convince me. “This is the end of the line for you, Jett. You’ve taken out fifteen targets for us over the years—”
“And every single one of them was a killer or a rapist or some sick bastard who hurt children. I’ve never touched a woman. And I’m not going to hurt this one. She …”
I trail off, grinding my teeth from side to side.
I was about to say, She means too much to me.
But how can I say that to him when it doesn’t even make sense to me?
“She’s nobody,” the voice roars. “Jesus fucking Christ. She’s an orphan, a speck of dust, a nothing. Nobody will miss her. Nobody will care.”
I’ll miss her, I think but don’t say.
I’ll care.
“You can try and convince me all you want,” I snarl. “But it’s not happening.”
“You’re making a mistake,” the contact snarls, fierceness beneath the electronic distortion of their voice. “You know what this means, Jett. You know we have to terminate you. This is your last job, for fuck’s sake.”
“Making a mistake because I won’t murder an innocent woman in cold blood?” I laugh grimly. “No, pal. You made the mistake the second you thought I’d do something so fucking wrong.”
“She’s going to die anyway,” the voice snaps. “We’ll just send somebody else.”
“If you send somebody else to hurt her, I’ll put them in the fucking dirt.”
“What? Why?”
Because I’ve already marked her as mine because she was mine long before we ever met. As insane as it is, something burns inside of me when I think about Juliana belonging to any other man.
She’s mine, as though she was carved into my fate long ago, and now all I have to do is take her.
“You don’t get to ask questions anymore,” I snarl.
“Then it’s going to be war,” the voice says, sounding weary. “We’ll have to kill you both.”
“Yeah,” I laugh darkly. “Good luck with that.”
“Who do you think you are?” the voice snarls.
“I’m Jett fucking Jackman,” I growl in response. “I’m a Navy SEAL and the best operator on the East Coast. I’m the man who’d make you shit yourself if I ever showed up on your doorstep. I’m the man who’ll kill every man you send to harm this girl. That’s who I am. I’ll give you one chance.”
“What?”
“One chance.” I shake my hand, shrapnel from the table sliding loose and landing on its surface. “Call off your dogs. Promise you won’t go after her. And we can end this peacefully.”
“Do you really think you’re in a position to wager?”
“I know you’re not harming her, under any circumstances. That’s what I fucking know.”
“Give me a minute,” the voice says.
“For what?”
“I have to check with my superiors. I don’t want this going sour any more than you do.”
“Fine, go, and check.”
I take the opportunity to steady my breathing, reaching for the dead-calm that has been my resting state for so many years now. It’s the calm that has allowed me to do my work without letting emotions puncture the hard shell of my soul.
But one conversation with Juliana has done more than over a decade of bloody work.
I feel, for the first time since Mom and Dad were alive.
I feel and it hurts, it aches and it throbs, and I know that there’s nothing in this world that will stop me from defending my woman. And the children I’m going to put inside of her the first chance I get.
Finally, they return, their voice crackling down the phone.
“One last chance, Jett. Will you complete the job or not?”
I stand up and lay my blood-dappled fists against the table, wishing I could reach through the phone and throttle this coward.
“You have your answer,” I snarl.
“It doesn’t have to be like this—”
“War,” I say gruffly. “If you’re going to force my hand on this, then it’s war. I’ll be waiting.”
I hang up and then take the phone apart, snapping the SIM card and then snapping the burner in half. I leave the crumpled remains on the table and walk into the hallway.
I have to keep a close watch on Juliana now.
I have to save her life.
Chapter Four
Juliana
I return to my one bedroom apartment to find Rebel curled up on the clean pile of clothes I sorted before heading out for the evening. The moment I moved out of the orphanage, I made a promise to myself that I’d always keep my apartment clean. The orphanage was never tidy, so much debris of life cluttered everywhere, so much mess.
The truth is, I don’t always succeed. But I try.
And that’s what matters, right?
