Night had deepened over the house, the windows framing a dark sky pricked with stars, the gravel drive swallowed in inky shadows beneath trees.
Inside, the dining table glowed under the soft light, steam curling from fresh plates Emily had slid across with a clink—golden scrambled eggs flecked with chives for herself, a hearty stack of bacon and toast for Reyes, the kitchen still humming faintly from prep, dark coffee brewing rich in the pot nearby.
Wildflowers transplanted from the living room vase nodded silently between them like nocturnal sentinels.
Reyes had cleared the perimeter twice at dusk, her unmarked black SUV parked discreet as a ghost under the trees. They settled into the high-backed chairs, Reyes's massive six-foot-one frame dwarfing the seat, tactical jacket unzipped to reveal a fitted black tee stretched taut over corded arms.
"Reyes, how long have you been working as a bodyguard?" Emily asked, forking into her eggs, curiosity alight in her emerald eyes as she watched Reyes methodically slice her bacon, those gray eyes flicking up steady and unreadable.
She was really curious about Reyes's past. It must be something grand, right? But she looked a bit stern.
Reyes hesitated, her knife pausing mid-cut, gloved fingers flexing once before she answered low and even. "Three years, Emily."
The name landed husky on her tongue, testing the informality Emily had insisted upon. Out of all her clients that she worked for before, this woman was weird.
Emily smiled around her bite, leaning forward on her elbows, raven ponytail slipping loose over one shoulder. "What did you do before that?"
Reyes set her knife down with deliberate care, her gaze locking onto Emily's. There she sat, chin propped on one hand, hoodie dipping just a touch as she leaned in—eyes wide and unguarded, alight with pure, disarming curiosity.
Why is this woman so damn curious? It was as if she wanted to know everything. Why did I accept her as my client? Reyes wondered, the thought flickering unspoken behind her scarred jaw.
Most clients barked orders from a distance; alphas typically bristled with challenge, whereas omegas kept their distance from her.
"Military," Reyes said finally, after some hesitation as she picked up her fork again. "Special forces. Eight years active."
Emily wasn't surprised—not in the slightest. Her lips curved wider as she took in Reyes fully—the razor-sharp pixie cut catching light like polished obsidian, high cheekbones shadowed just so, that silver scar tracing her jaw like a hard-earned medal.
She said, "Figures. You have that rugged, handsome look about you—carries right through."
"Handsome?" Reyes's fork froze halfway to her mouth, full lips parting in a blink of genuine surprise, her eyes widening a fraction beneath arched brows. 'Handsome' wasn't the word that many people would associate her with.
The word hung in the shadowed air, warm and unfiltered, slicing through protocol like moonlight through silk. No one called her that—not in debriefs, not in the barracks. Most people were scared by her appearance—they always put their distance from her whenever they saw her.
A low alpha rumble stirring deep before she clamped it down.
This woman is very friend, isn't she? Unlike other people, she isn't afraid of me.
"Yep!" Emily nodded with emphatic cheer, popping a chive-flecked bite, her grin turning teasing. "Own it, Reyes. Suits you better than 'sir' or whatever they drilled into you."
"Emily—" Reyes began out of habit, formal instinct kicking in, then caught herself, her jaw clenching as she leaned back, broad shoulders rolling once in subtle concession. "You shouldn't be this trusting. Not with strangers crossing your thresholds."
Emily waved her fork airily, meeting that steady gaze head-on, her own spark flaring with playful defiance. "Look, you're going to be my shadow for God knows how many hours—days, weeks? Right? Perimeter checks, tailing me, staring down at creeps. Might as well drop the 'Ms.' and make it human. Call me Emily, okay. Don't think that I didn't catch your 'almost' mishap. I'll call you Reyes. Deal?"
Reyes exhaled slow through her nose, gloved fingers drumming once on the table's edge, that dry amusement flickering again in her scarred brow—a subtle thaw in the frost. "...Fine, I won't do that again. Emily." The name rolled out testing, deeper now, roughened at the edges. "But trust like that's a liability. Military taught me that first. People betray. Always."
"I don't trust a lot of people," Emily countered softly but firmly, pushing her plate aside to lean closer, her hands settling against the table's edge, voice dropping earnest.
"You don't?"
"Viktor's proven that—family's the worst knife in the back. Not just him—others too. But you? Ex-military, vetted by the app, already swept my home twice before coffee. You're my bodyguard, Reyes. Competence like yours? I can trust that. Can't I?"
Reyes's eyes held hers for a long, searching beat—something unspoken shifting behind them, wary approval threading through her scent like faint smoke.
She picked up a strip of bacon again, the crisp bite crunching decisive between her teeth. "You can. For now."
"For now?! Are you planning to abandon me?"
Reyes smirked with a playful look as she shook her head. "Who knows? Maybe I will throw you to the 'wolves' and leave."
"You wouldn't!"
"Maybe not."
Emily's fork clattered soft against her plate, her eyes flashing with sudden fire as she leaned forward, raven ponytail swinging like a pendulum in the light's glow. "I will hate you if you leave me in danger!"
Reyes smirked, the scarred corner of her mouth tugging up just enough to reveal a hint of white teeth—dry amusement cracking her stone facade. "Hate?" Her voice rumbled low, gravel laced with challenge. One gloved hand rested loose on the table, fingers drumming once, while her broad frame seemed to fill more of the room, presence coiling tighter.
The word hung between them, electric—Emily's cheeks flushing rose despite her defiance, heart kicking against her ribs as that smirk pinned her like a spotlight.
"Yes! I will hate you!"