Lucas stood at the periphery of the hideout, arms folded as he watched the security feeds. All his muscles were tense, waiting for the inevitable. He had dealt with threats like this before—nameless foes lurking in the shadows, attacking without notice. But this time, there was a difference. This time, Aiden was the target.

  Aiden, sitting on the couch, studied Lucas with an intensity he hadn’t before. The way the man moved, the sharpness of his instincts—it was like he had lived his entire life on edge. Aiden wasn’t blind to it. Lucas wasn’t just a bodyguard. He was something more. Something dangerous.

  "You’ve done this before," Aiden said quietly.

  Lucas’s jaw tightened. "Done what?"

  "Lived like this. Always watching your back, always waiting for an attack."

  Lucas let out a breath, his eyes still fixed on the screens. "Experience is the best teacher."

  Aiden leaned in. "And what did experience teach you?"

  Lucas finally shifted, his eyes unreadable. "That trust is a weakness. And becoming close to people makes them targets."

  Aiden met his gaze, something realigning between them. "Is that why you keep your distance? Because you're scared?"

  Lucas's face didn't change, but his silence spoke volumes.

  Aiden was about to push him again when an alert lit up on the screen. Lucas was on it in a flash, reading the new feed. His whole attitude changed from reserved to deadly.

  "Someone's outside," Lucas said, grabbing his gun.

  Aiden leapt off the couch. "Is it them?"

  Lucas checked the cameras, his brows knitting together. "Too soon to tell. But we’re not taking any chances. Stay behind me."

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Aiden opened his mouth to argue, but the weight in Lucas’s voice silenced him. The bodyguard moved toward the door with quiet precision, gun at the ready. Aiden’s heart pounded, adrenaline spiking as he followed closely.

  The quiet outside was oppressive. Then—a groan. A figure strode past one of the small windows.

  Lucas motioned for Aiden to remain behind as he leaned against the door, holding his breath. Aiden tightened his fists, struggling with the need to talk.

  Then, a voice. Deep, coarse, and unmistakably familiar.

  "Lucas. I know you're in there. Open the damn door."

  Lucas tensed. His fingers around the gun tightened. Aiden had never once seen him falter. But now, there was something in Lucas's stance—a fissure in his otherwise unbreakable cool.

  Aiden scowled. "Who's that?"

  Lucas refused to reply. He let out a harsh breath and muttered under his breath, "Someone I prayed I'd never lay eyes on again."

  Aiden's blood chilled.

  Whatever was out there, they weren't just another threat.

  They had been a part of Lucas's past—a past he had swallowed whole, interred with all his scars and all his remorse. But it had come now, pounding at the door to be answered. The burden of old wounds descended upon his shoulders, and Lucas felt, for the first time in years, something perilously close to reluctance.