The Code He Broke

I was never supposed to be a target.
But the night someone posted my home address and broke into my car,
I stopped being safe.

The next morning, Rafe Kingsley walked into my office—silent, armed, and terrifyingly calm.

“Pack a bag,” he said. “You have ten minutes.”

I told him no.

He said, “Then I’ll carry you out myself.”

Now I’m locked in a high-security compound with a man who doesn’t sleep, doesn’t smile, and watches me like I’m something he doesn’t know how to hold.

He says I’m reckless.
I say he’s a machine.
But when someone carves my name into a tree outside the safehouse, he stops pretending this is just a job.

He kissed me once—hard, controlled, and full of everything he refuses to say.
Then whispered, “I protect what’s mine. But I can’t afford to love it too.”

I left. He let me.
And the night someone came for me… he was already on the way.

Because even if he can’t say it—he’s not done being mine.