Page 11 of My Deepest Desire

“Fuck!” Trey rolls me off him and surges to his feet. His movements are swift and controlled, every inch the lethal protector he has become. He tugs on his jeans and shoves his feet into his boots, all while keeping his intense gaze fixed on the broken window. “Fucking coward,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

“Should I call the police?” I ask with a trembling voice.

“No. I’m gonna end this once and for all.”

“Wait… What? Trey?—”

Before I can finish my protest, he grabs a gun from his bag, a sight that sends chills down my spine. Trey’s private security work has never seemed so real or dangerous until this very moment. The weight of our situation crashes down on me, and I struggle to decide what to do next.

“Stay put, Mouse,” he orders, his voice brooking no argument. Then, without another word, he rushes out the door, leaving me alone with my chaotic thoughts.

How can I stay put when the man I’ve loved for most of my life is in danger? What if something happens to him, and I never get the chance to tell him how much he means to me?

Screw it.I won’t let fear hold me back anymore. He might be mad at me for putting myself in harm’s way, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.

Swallowing my angst, I throw on my clothes and grab a pair of slip-on sneakers from the front closet before running outside. The street is eerily quiet, illuminated only by the occasional flickering streetlight. I glance around, searching for any sign of him. Then I catch a glimpse of his tall, powerful frame sprinting down the sidewalk about a hundred yards away. Despite the distance, there’s no mistaking his purposeful stride.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, determination coursing through me as I take off after him.

My lungs burn with each breath as my pounding footsteps echo off the empty streets like a drumbeat urging me forward. I push myself to run faster, my chest heaving as my short legs struggle to keep up. Then he takes a sharp left, disappearing behind the shadows cast by the row of houses. Desperate to catch up, I cut through my neighbors’ yards, hopping over flower beds and narrowly avoiding lawn decorations.

When I finally reach him, I’m met with a scene that both relieves and horrifies me. Chris is on the ground beneath Trey, his face battered and bloody. Trey’s fists relentlessly pummel him, each strike accompanied by a sickening crunch. My pulse thumps at the base of my neck and sweat blooms on my forehead. I’m torn between the reassurance that Trey isn’t hurt and shock at the violence unfolding before me.

“You fucking asshole!” Trey snarls, landing another blow on Chris’s already-marred face. “You thought you could harass my girl and get away with it?”

“Please,” Chris gasps, choking on blood and spit. “Stop...”

“Shut the fuck up!” Trey roars, his anger palpable as he continues his assault.

“Please, Trey! Stop!” I beg him, my voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t kill him!”

Trey freezes, breathing heavily as he glares down at Chris. His eyes flicker to me for a moment, then back to my stalker.“Why should I? He needs to learn not to fuck with what’s mine. No one fucks with my girl and gets to live.”

His words send a different kind of shiver down my spine.Trey thinks of me as his girl?

There’s no time to process this revelation right now—all that matters is stopping him from crossing a line he can’t come back from.

Chris’s face is a mess of blood and bruises, his eyes swollen shut as he gasps for breath. It’s difficult to reconcile this pitiful figure with the man who’d been terrorizing me for so long. Trey stands over him, satisfaction etched across his rugged features.

“Let’s make sure you won’t forget this,” Trey growls, flipping Chris onto his stomach and wrenching his arms behind his back. He shoves Chris’s face into the pavement, grinding it against the rough surface. The sound of muffled screams makes my stomach churn.

“Please,” I repeat, tears streaming down my face. “Just let the police handle it. Don’t do this.”

Trey looks up at me, his blue eyes cold and unyielding. “This is what I do best, Maggie. Killing a man who hurt people is just another Tuesday for me.” The casualness of his statement is hair-raising, and I realize just how little I know about the man standing before me.

Is this really the same boy I grew up with? The same man who held me tenderly just moments ago?

“Please, don’t do this,” I whisper, hearing the blood rushing in my ears.

As if in answer to my prayer, a neighbor’s porch light flickers on, and an older man steps out. “I’ve called the police!”

Trey snarls at Chris, whose groans are now barely audible. “You’re lucky there are witnesses, or you’d be dead right now.” With one final shove, he releases Chris and stands, flexing his bloodied knuckles.

The sudden shift from violence to calm sets my nerves on edge. This version of Trey scares me, and I can’t help but question everything I thought I knew about him.

7

TREY

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