Wake. Watch. Erase.
“You were bored… so you ran recon during a shift change, logged vehicle plates, memorised staff rosters, and spotted a breach through thick foliage like a sniper with a vendetta.”
– Rhys
The morning crept in slow—gold-tinted and quiet, the kind of hush that doesn’t belong in hospitals. It was soft, almost reverent, like even the sun had learned to tread gently when it came to her. And wrapped around her, in that sterile bed far too small for two, I didn’t dare move. Not yet.
Her back was warm against my chest. My hand splayed possessively across her stomach—gentle, but immovable. Her breath came in shallow little waves, hitching slightly every so often like her body still hadn’t decided if it trusted the peace. But she was here. She was breathing. And the world hadn’t fucking burned me down in the night.
That counted for something.
My nose brushed against the damp tangle of her hair, and I inhaled her. Hospital soap. IV plastic. And beneath it all—her. Jasmine. Salt and skin and every memory that ever mattered to me. I pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, slow and grounding.
She didn’t stir. But I felt it. That tension beneath the silk of her skin. Not fear. Not pain. Not even exhaustion. It was doubt. Quiet. Sharp. Gnawing at the edges of her like rust under paint.
“Talk to me, mon amour,” I murmured against her spine, my voice low, rough from sleep but edged with something else—instinct. “You’re breathing like the walls are closing in.”
She stilled further. That damn giveaway. The way she always froze when she thought I couldn’t hear her thoughts screaming.
I shifted just enough to look at her—her profile soft in the pale light, lips parted, jaw set like she was trying to bite down on a secret. My hand slid up from her stomach to cup her cheek, turning her gently to face me. Her eyes met mine, wide and blue and already brimming with guilt she hadn’t earned.
“Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t run from me while I’m holding you. What is it?”
She tried to shake her head. Tried to brush it off with that weak little smile that fooled everyone else but never me.
I didn’t let go.
“Jasmine.”
That name. Her real one. It cut straight through her defences. She blinked fast. She chewed on her lip.
“I saw something weird yesterday when I was looking out the window. I don’t know, I’m probably just paranoid. I wasn’t even going to bring it up.”
My entire body went still. Not the kind of stillness people notice right away—not the obvious kind. This was subtler. Deeper. That exact kind of still that only she would catch. The stillness that meant every cell in me had coiled around one word.
Protect.
“Start from the beginning, Jasmine.” My voice didn’t rise. Didn’t shake. It was quiet—steel wrapped in velvet. “What did you see?”
My thumb brushed her bottom lip, right where she’d been biting it. Easing tension. Coaxing truth. Every move gentle, reverent. But inside? Inside I was already assembling the list. Mentally clearing the board. Slotting pieces into place. Surveillance. Perimeter. Exit routes. Threat elevation. Because if something had touched her peace, even for a second, I was going to burn it out of existence.
“You’re not paranoid,” I said, voice low, gaze locked on hers. “Not after what we’ve lived through. You have instincts for a reason. And kitten…You’re never wrong when you get that feeling.”
She looked up at me, uncertain. And I made sure she saw it—all of it. My presence. My readiness. My absolute refusal to let the world hurt her again.
“You’re safe. I promise you that. But I need you to tell me what you saw. No matter how small. No matter how strange. We’ll unravel it together.”
She nodded faintly, then slid her legs out of bed, IV trailing as she rose. Silent, instinctive, she crossed to the window—same as she had yesterday. Same motion. Same spot. Something had echoed in her. Something enough to pull her out of that bed and make her stare again.
I followed without hesitation, dragging on my pants in one swift motion and stepping behind her—close, but not crowding. My hand slid to the small of her back, steady and warm, anchoring her without words. I didn’t look at her—I looked with her. Out the window. Toward the pond just beyond the fence.
“I was watching a young kid feed the swans with his mum,” she murmured, eyes narrowed like she was trying to conjure the moment fully. “They were just… there. By the pond outside the hospital fence.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
And I saw it—that look in her eyes. Not fear. Not even dread. Recognition. Half memory. Half alarm bell.
“Go on,” I murmured, my voice softer now, but tight with the edge that came when I knew we were on the cusp of something real. My eyes followed hers to the exact location. I’d already memorized the area. Logged every threat vector. Every corner, shadow, vantage point.
“What didn’t feel right, mon amour?”
Because I knew her. Better than anyone ever had. And she wouldn’t have brought it up unless something had stuck. Something that crawled beneath her skin and stayed. And I trusted that more than I trusted any patrol log.
“Did someone approach them?” I asked, my voice shifting lower, darker. That cadence that only came out when I was ready to go to war. “Did someone look up at you? Watch you? Was there a vehicle parked nearby? Movement where there shouldn’t be? Tell me everything. Even if it felt like nothing.”
Her head shook. Too quick. Too dismissive.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I probably just imagined it.”
I didn’t let her pull away. My hands came to her shoulders, firm but gentle. A living tether. I leaned down, my chin resting at the crown of her head for a moment. Inhaling her. Letting my breath match hers. Wrapping around her like I could shield her from anything that dared breathe in her direction.
“No, baby,” I said, voice gruff and reverent all at once. “You don’t imagine shit like this. Not you. Not after everything.”
I gently turned her to face me, careful of the line snaking from her arm. My hands slid down to her waist—grounding. Reassuring. Claiming.
“You see ghosts before they come. You feel things before the world has the words to name them. That’s not paranoia, Jasmine. That’s survival. That’s instinct. That’s your fire.”
I tilted her chin until our eyes met.
“So give me everything you’ve got. And I’ll give you the rest. I’ll find it. Handle it. Erase it. Whatever it takes.”
A pause. My jaw tightened—just enough to feel the grind of it.
“I’m calling Elara,” I said flatly, already reaching for my phone. “She’ll pull the footage, isolate the time frame. Jude will sweep every registered civilian entry near the boundary. If something was there—we’ll find it. And we’ll erase it. If it turns out to be nothing?” I shrugged once, dark and cold. “Then good. That means the fortress is holding. But I’ll chase ghosts for days before I let even the smell of danger touch you.”
I looked at her, steady. “You’re not crazy, Jasmine. You’re awake. And I’ll always listen when you speak.”
She gave a soft laugh. “It was just a flash of light from the bushes. I couldn’t see anything else because it’s quite dense. Like I said, probably just my mind playing tricks on me. It’s not like I haven’t had head trauma or anything.”
But I didn’t laugh. Not because I didn’t worship that sharp-edged humour of hers—I did. God, I did. It was her armour. Her wit. Her control. But not this time. This time, I cupped her face, both hands firm on her skin, framing her like she was the only fucking thing keeping gravity honest.
“A flash of light from the bushes?” I repeated, low, the metal coiling through my tone even though my grip stayed soft. “Dense foliage. Poor visibility. You know what that sounds like to me, mon amour?”
I didn’t wait.
“Someone testing a camera. A reflection off a scope. A signal. That’s not nothing. That’s something.”
I pulled her gently from the window, one arm keeping her close as the other unlocked my phone. My thumb was already moving before I even looked at the screen.
“Elara’s pulling the last forty-eight hours of footage. Jude’s re-routing to the west perimeter. And I’m blacking out this window.”
I looked at her again, my voice shifting, gentler—still iron-wrapped velvet. “You’re right. You’ve had head trauma. But your instincts didn’t bleed out with it. You felt something. That’s what matters.”
My palm moved to her belly then—slow, reverent, a little possessive.
“I’m not taking chances. Not with you. Not with our legacy. If they think I’ll sit still just because you’re healing…” My voice dropped, dangerous. “They don’t know the man they’re provoking.”
“I don’t know if it’s useful,” she said after a beat, “but I think I know what can help.”
I didn’t even blink. “Tell me, kitten. Whatever it is—we’ll do it.”
I stepped closer, let one hand slide to the small of her back again, my thumb tracing slow over her hip, grounding her to me.
“You remembered something, didn’t you?” I asked, voice quiet, locked. “Even if it’s faint—whatever just came into your head, say it. I’m listening. Always.”
Her eyes met mine. “I know you know about my reconnaissance mission,” she said, pointed, “when I asked Elara to take me to the rooftop garden for air…”
I gave nothing away. Just kept holding her. Let her speak.
“So I knew the staff rosters. I memorised them on the way past. I knew 4pm was the changeover between afternoon and evening shifts. There’s a handover. Five minutes after that, I looked out the window—saw which cars were new, who had arrived. That’s when I saw it.”
My eyes never left hers. Not for a second.
And yes—I knew about the rooftop “air break.” Knew Elara let her go farther than protocol allowed. I let it slide. Not because she bent the rules. But because it was her. Even recovering, even raw, she was still thinking like a tactician. Still my Jasmine. Still a war map in a silk robe.
And now it mattered.
My jaw clenched. The pieces snapped together in my mind.
“You noticed the shift change,” I murmured. “You timed the gap. Logged the vehicles. You didn’t just catch a flicker in the bushes, Jasmine. You spotted a breach.”
I exhaled through my nose, kissed her forehead—hard. Proud. Rattled.
“You weren’t being a brat,” I whispered against her skin. “You were doing recon. Tactical assessment. And you just gave me a pattern.”
I turned to the window once more, then back to my phone. “Jude’s pulling all vehicle records from 3:55 to 4:10. Staff. Deliveries. I want infrared on the shrub line. And a rooftop sweep.”
When I turned back to her, I said it simply.
“You’re brilliant.”
Then, with a crooked, darker smile, “And yes, kitten… I am your personal stalker. And if someone else is stalking you?” My voice went cold. “They just fucked with the wrong obsession.”
She smirked. “So I didn’t do too badly, and you forgive my little excursion then?”
I huffed, hand dragging down my face, half-laugh, half-groan. Then I stepped in again, cupped her jaw—too proud to pretend otherwise.
“You didn’t do badly. You ran a solo op from a hospital bed, Jasmine. With an IV in your arm. And left me with intel. That’s not bad. That’s lethal.”
I leaned in close, voice dropping. “And yeah, I forgive the rooftop rebellion. But if you ever try that again without Elara…” I let the words linger, dark and low. “I’ll handcuff you to the bed. And not in the fun way. In the reinforced, steel-plated, ‘Rhys-is-done-being-patient’ kind of way.”
My lips curved, soft and dangerous.
“You’re a menace when you’re bored. And I’m so fucking in love with it.”
She snorted. “You weren’t here. Fair game. And I was bored.”
I groaned like she’d just shattered the last of my reason.
“Fair game,” I echoed, staring at her like I wanted to ruin her and protect her in the same breath. “You absolute menace.”
My arms slid around her waist, pulling her gently against me, careful of her IV, not her ego.
“You were bored,” I muttered, mostly to myself, “so you ran recon during a shift change, logged vehicle plates, memorised staff rosters, and spotted a breach through thick foliage like a sniper with a vendetta. Jesus Christ.”
I tilted her chin up, helpless against the grin tugging at my mouth.
“You are so lucky I’m in love with you, Jasmine Llewellyn. Anyone else would’ve sedated you by now.”
