Page 27 of Ranger’s Protection

"Does it ever bother you? The violence?"

"Should it?"

"I don't know. Most people would be bothered by killing someone."

"I'm not most people. I was trained to neutralize threats. Spent a decade doing exactly that. The context is different now, sure. Protecting civilians instead of serving national interests, but the mechanics are the same." I lean back in the chair. "Does it bother you? That I killed someone today?"

She considers the question. "No. That probably makes me a bad person, but no. He was trying to hurt me. You stopped him. I'm grateful, not bothered."

"That doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you a survivor."

"Is that what I am now? A survivor?"

"You've always been one. You just didn't know it until circumstances forced you to prove it."

Her eyes get wet again, but she blinks the tears back. "I don't feel like a survivor. I feel like someone who got lucky that the right person showed up at the right time."

"Luck is part of survival. So is making smart decisions. You packed and stayed ready. You followed instructions during the extraction without panicking. Those were all choices that kept you alive."

"You're very good at reframing things to make me feel less pathetic."

"You're not pathetic. You're scared and exhausted, which is normal. But you're handling it better than most people would."

She laughs softly. "You don't have to keep complimenting me. I already think you're amazing for saving my life. You don't need to earn my gratitude."

"I'm not trying to earn anything. I'm telling you the truth."

"The truth is I'm a mess who can't even sleep alone without asking you to babysit me."

"The truth is you're someone who recognizes what you need and asks for it instead of suffering in silence. That's strength, not weakness."

"You really believe that."

"Yeah. I do."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

The question catches me off guard. "What?"

"You're this tactical, practical person who thinks three steps ahead and treats protection like a job. But you're sitting here at midnight talking me through my anxiety instead of sleeping. You held my hand earlier. You told Marcus Vale to shut up when he insulted me. You keep doing these small kind things that don't fit with the 'just doing my job' explanation." She pulls the comforter tighter. "So why are you being so nice to me specifically?"

Fuck.

She's right. I am doing things that go beyond professional protection. Things I wouldn't necessarily do for just anyone under the club's care. Things that feel personal instead of tactical.

I should deflect. Should give her a reasonable explanation that maintains appropriate distance. Should remind both of us that I met her six hours ago and whatever I'm feeling is probably just the natural protectiveness that comes from a successful high-stakes extraction.

Should do all of that.

Don't.

"Because you matter," I tell her.

"I matter," she repeats slowly. "To you specifically? Or to the club?"

"Both. But yeah. To me specifically."

Her breath catches. "Graham—"