Annelly

“Then what? What do you propose we do here, James? She can’t stay here. You know this.” Ben’s voice is sharp, the edge of it adding to the tension already crowding in the room.

“I’ll take her somewhere—me and Tyler. We’ll go off-grid. Our place in Switzerland.”

“You’re fucking joking, right?” Ben scoffs. “That asshole found your home address. Information we locked down tighter than Fort Knox—and yet here we are. You really think he’s not motivated enough to find your other properties? There’s no way in hell you’ll be safe there. Especially without backup.”

“Then we’ll hit the road. We’ll keep moving—”

“James.” Zeb’s voice is soft but firm. He shakes his head with the kind of sorrow that only comes from personal experience. “That kind of life? Running. Constantly looking over your shoulder? You don’t want that—for her, or for Tyler. Hell, trust me. You don’t want that for yourself either.” 

His tone deepens. “You know my history. What I’ve been through. Which is why I can say this with absolute certainty—that is not how a man protects his family. That’s how he guarantees he’ll lose them.”

James’s fingers flex against mine, then still. And just like that… he lets me go. 

He rises from his stool and plants both palms on the counter, leaning over the island. His voice scrapes out like gravel—rough, every word laced with betrayal. “Whose side are you fucking on, Zeb? Huh?” His glare cuts across to his friend, piercing and unflinching. “Because this whole playing-both-sides bullshit? It’s not gonna cut it. Not this time.” 

“I’m on your side, brother. You know that.”

James barks out a bitter laugh. “The only thing I know is that you’re full of shit. You know damn well know those FBI fuckers can’t be trusted.”

“You’re right.” Zeb stands too, mirroring James’s stance, holding his gaze without flinching. “But you know who I do trust?” He gestures around the room. “This. Me. You. Ben. The rest of our team. The Bureau isn’t in charge here. We are. And you’ve got my word—Ben’s too—” he glances over. 

Ben gives a tight nod.

Then Zeb finishes with a voice like steel. “We will protect her with our lives. Tyler too. Nothing will happen to them. You can fucking trust in that.”

The two of them lock eyes, the tension thick enough to choke on. None of us breathes. We’re all just waiting to see who moves first. Who breaks. 

Then finally… James nods. 

Just once. Barely there. 

His jaw is clenched so tight I can feel the frustration still radiating off him. He’s agreeing to this, but only because Zeb asked him to. Not because he thinks it’s the right call. 

He’s not okay with this. 

Not even close. 

But for now… he’s done fighting it.

Like he’s had enough, James sinks back into his seat. His hand finds mine instantly, fingers wrapping tight. He’s trying to rein in the chaos, to claw back some sense of control—but it’s his eyes that undo me because that’s where I see his truth.

They flick toward the framed photos lining the hallway, snapshots of the brothers, the life they’ve built together. Then to the stairs that lead to Tyler’s room and the rec room where they spend their free time talking, laughing, entertaining their friends. Then across the open floor plan, sweeping over the modern furniture, the clean lines, the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the snow-covered mountains and endless sky. 

And that’s when it hits me.

The guilt.

The regret.

Because this is his home. His sanctuary. The place he built to feel safe. To give Tyler the stability and security they never had. To finally live free of the shadows that still haunt them.

And now… because of me, it’s tainted.

The realization slams into me like a cloak of anguish. I try to swallow it down, but it rises in my throat anyway. Fighting to breathe past the sob threatening to break free, I slip my fingers from his hand. 

“Maybe…” I hesitate, my voice thick, raw with the pain I can’t contain. “Maybe it’s better if I just go. Alone.”

That gets all of their attention. 

But it’s James who reacts first. 

His head jerks towards me, eyes narrowing in disbelief. The heat of his stare scorches across my skin as I try my damndest to avoid looking at him.

It’s why I rush on.

Even though it hurts. 

Even though the thought of leaving guts me to my very soul. 

“If I leave—if I go far enough away—Victor will follow me. Not you. Not Tyler. Not anyone else I love.” I swallow hard. “Maybe that’s the answer. Maybe that’s how I fix this. By getting as far away as I can from Ruby Creek—and everyone I know.”

The silence that follows feels jagged. Dangerous.

Ben sets his water down. 

Zeb shifts in his seat.

But it’s James’s voice that cuts through. Hard. Unyielding. “No.” 

Just one word. Firm. Loud. Absolute.

But it’s not the answer I need. So I try again. “You and Tyler—this never should have happened. You shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

His chair scrapes back.

And then he’s in front of me.

Kneeling, he takes both my hands in his, resting them gently on my lap. His eyes lock onto mine, fierce and shimmering with something more than anger.

It’s fear.

“You think I’d let you walk out that fucking door?” he asks, voice tight, cracking with disbelief. “You think after everything we’ve been through—after telling you how I feel—I’d let you face this alone?”

I start to respond, but he shakes his head.

“I already lost you once, Annelly. I’m not going through that again. So no—over my dead body. You’re not going anywhere. If we’re doing this, we do it together. All of us. Or not at all.”

Like he needs the backup, he glances at Zeb, who gives a small, solid nod.

“You’re not the problem, Annelly,” Zeb says quietly. “Victor is. And we’re going to end this. Together.”

My breath stutters as tears slip free, trailing hot and fast down my cheeks. I glance at Zeb. Then Ben… 

But James’s grip tightens around my hands, pulling my attention back to him. 

“I’m not letting you go,” he says, voice raw, laced with desperation. “So don’t you dare ask that of me, Annelly. I’ll give you anything else—anything you ask of me—but not that. Never that.”

I start to look away, but he leans closer. Voice fierce. Eyes burning. Locking me in place. “Look at me, snowflake. You. Are. Not. The. Villain. Here.” 

My throat tightens.

“You. Are. Not. To. Blame. For. Any. Of. This,” he says, his voice cracking just slightly. “Victor is. So you and I, we’re going to hold on to each other. To Tyler. To our friends. Our family. And we’re going to ride this out, never forgetting where the blame belongs. Do you hear me? Please, for God’s sake, tell me you hear me.”

His words cut straight through me because, more than anything, I want to cling to the lifeline he’s offering and never let go. But the ache in my chest tells a different story. One I can’t ignore. It whispers that I’m to blame. That my choices—my mistakes—are what brought us here. And I’m terrified I’ll be the reason James and Tyler’s lives unravel. That nothing will ever go back to the way it was before I showed up on their doorstep, asking for protection they never should’ve had to give. 

But the crack in his voice. 

The desperation in his eyes. 

That’s what makes me nod, swallowing hard around the lump in my throat. 

Like he sees the war raging inside me, James brings his hands to my face, cupping it gently and wiping away my tears with the softest brush of his thumbs. His touch lingers for a heartbeat longer than it needs to, his eyes silently daring me to argue with him again.

I don’t.

Not because I suddenly believe I deserve the lifeline he’s offering, but because I get that he needs this.

Once he’s sure I’m not about to bolt, he reclaims his seat beside me, never letting go of my hand as the conversation shifts to logistics.

Zeb outlines the timeline, his voice calm but clipped. “We move after sunset. One vehicle. Quiet exit. No digital trail, so no phones or computers. Everything stays behind. We’ll have burners waiting and ready for you at our first stop.”

“As far as Tyler,” Ben adds. “He’ll need to coordinate with his professors to finish the semester remotely. Think that’ll be a problem? I’m assuming you’ll want him with you.”

James gives a small nod. “Yeah. Where I go, he goes. He won’t like leaving mid-semester, but I’ll handle it.”

Zeb sighs. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

They keep going after that—packing plans, exit routes, emergency contacts, security rotation. I hear every word. I track every detail. But it all starts to blur beneath the dull ache pressing tighter in my chest. 

The kind of ache that burrows deep when you know your life is about to change, and you don’t get a say.

We’re leaving tonight.

Running. 

Again.

And there’s nothing I can do to stop this madness.

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