Page 186 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

The first time I knock Gabe off balance, he grins like I handed him the moon.

Midday, I pull espresso at The Guardian Grind, pour over thesis edits between orders, and pretend the register isn’t possessed. Sometimes Max curls at my feet. Sometimes Malia catches me smiling like I’m not trying to hide it.

Lunch breaks mean the shooting range. Hank walks me through stance, breath, trigger discipline. Gabe stands behind me, his hand steadying mine. My shoulders bruise from recoil.

I love it.

Afternoons blur with quantum equations and hard-earned focus. I start plotting test revisions, the shape of what comes next. Something that’s mine.

And evenings? Evenings begin with discipline and always end in surrender.

A spar on the deck that slides—inevitably—into something darker. Sweat slicks my skin; fists turn into grips, holds into commands. Rope finds my wrists before the moon finds the sky. The burn of restraint, the ache of trust, the kind of surrender that leaves no space for fear.

I train. I fight. I fuck.

And the promise they made? That I’d never be helpless again.

It wraps around me tighter than any rope.

Because here, with them, I’m not just safe. Every bruise from training, every shiver of restraint, every whisperedcommand in the dark—it’s a thread, binding me to something fierce and unbreakable. To them.

Their hands on my body.

Their voices in my head.

Their dominance woven into every hour of the day.

I belong to Hank in the quiet, relentless way he controls a room without raising his voice.

I belong to Gabe in the wildfire heat of his possession, in the way he looks at me like I’m a question he’s already answered.

I am theirs. And I crave every second of it.

But the outside world hasn’t forgotten me.

Not even close.

It waits beyond the ocean breeze and coffee-scented hours.

Lurking. Circling. Watching.

And no matter how tightly they hold me…

Some things can still slip through the cracks.

My phone buzzes. The screen lights up with a name I can’t ignore.

Dad.

My stomach tightens. The perfect stillness around me cracks, the illusion threatened by that single name. Hank’s rule echoes in my head—always answer your father’s calls.

Chapter 50

The house is quiet.Hank is out for his morning run along the cliffs, and Gabe is in the shower. I curl into the warmth they’ve left behind in the tangled sheets, savoring the pleasant ache of last night’s activities.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand—a familiar name lighting up the screen.

Dad.

---