Page 189 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“Dad,” I say, my voice steady but gentle. “I know this isn’t easy for you. I know it’s not what you pictured for me. But this is my life, and I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

There’s a pause, a silence that stretches between us, filled with unspoken words and emotions. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice gruff with emotion.

“You know, a father is never fully comfortable with the man who takes his daughter away. And now I’ve got to deal with two of them.” The disapproval radiates through the connection despite the miles between us. “It’s not an easy ask for me not to hate them on sight, thinking about what they’re…” He trails off, clearly uncomfortable completing the thought.

I laugh, the sound echoing in the room where Gabe and Hank can hear only my half of the conversation. “Best not to think about it, Dad. Really.”

If he knew the truth—that Hank and Gabe take me together, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization as they claim me from both sides.

If he could see the marks decorating my skin right now, the welts and bruises from Gabe’s flogger that I wear with pride, evidence of his carefully controlled sadistic hunger…

God, he’d send his entire security team to “rescue” me in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t need to know that. Hedefinitelydoesn’t need to know how eagerly I kneel for them, how completely I surrender to these two incredibly dominant men with the stamina of stallions and the iron-fisted control to push me to my limits without ever truly breaking me.

Some truths are better left unspoken between fathers and daughters.

I catch Hank’s questioning look as he sits beside me, his body still warm from his run, while Gabe’s fingers trace protective patterns against my shoulder.

“But Ally, it’s a fantasy… It’s not normal, two men…”

“Normal?” I cut him off, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s ever been normal about my life? You’re a billionaire with security teams following your every move. I’ve been watched and held under your thumb since before I could crawl, treated like a commodity that might be stolen at any moment. And I was…”

My voice rises despite my efforts to control it, years of resentment bleeding through. “Nothing in my life has ever been normal. Not my childhood, not college with bodyguards lurking in the shadows, not the abduction, and certainly not the aftermath. So why should this be any different?”

Silence hangs between us for several heartbeats, the weight of my words settling across miles of digital connection. Hank’s arm slides around my waist as Gabe moves closer, both men creating a physical barrier against the emotional storm inside me.

I swallow hard, my hand trembling on the phone as both menwatch me with concerned expressions. They can’t hear my father’s words, but they recognize the tension in my body at the reference to my abduction.

“I don’t want normal. I’m with them. Yes, it’s unconventional, but it works. They see parts of me no one else does, not even you. Parts I was afraid to show anyone until them.”

The parts they see—the desperate need for them to take control, the hunger for firm hands, and commanding voices. How Hank’s ropes bind more than my body. How they free something in my soul. How Gabe’s intensity mirrors the darkness I’ve always kept buried, his demanding, ruthless control awakening a hunger in me I never dared to name—one that craves the sharp edge of surrender, the exquisite sting of the pain only he can deliver.

“I don’t need to know the details,” Dad says quickly, his voice strained through the connection. I can almost picture him rubbing his forehead the way he does when conversations venture into uncomfortable territory. “Just… are you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” I lean against Hank, drawing strength from his presence, while Gabe sits on the other side, watching with those intense eyes that see too much. I reach out my free hand, and he takes it immediately, our fingers interlacing. “They take care of me. Protect me. Not because they have to, like your security team, but because they want to.”

A long silence fills the line, broken only by my father’s slow exhale crackling through the speaker.

“Your mother…” he starts, then stops, his voice taking on a quality I rarely hear—vulnerability beneath the CEO veneer. “She always said love doesn’t follow the rules. The last thing she told me was to make sure you knew that.”

My throat tightens. Twelve years since cancer took her, and sometimes the grief still feels fresh enough to steal my breath.

“I remember.”

“She would have understood this—better than me.” His voice roughens, the digital connection unable to mask the emotion. “She would have said, ‘As long as you’re loved, truly loved, the detailsdon’t matter.’”

“I am loved, and I love them,” I whisper, my eyes locking first with Gabe’s, then turning to find Hank’s gaze. Both men go still, hearing the weight of the words. “The way you loved Mom. The kind of love worth fighting for.”

Hank’s arms tighten around me while Gabe’s fingers press into mine, neither of them speaking. But their bodies communicate volumes as they witness this moment—this admission that changes everything between us.

Hank’s playfulness vanishes, his body coiling with protective tension. Gabe abandons all pretense. His eyes find mine with an intensity that makes the rest of the room fade away, narrowing to just the three of us and this fragile, powerful thing we’ve built together.

“Then I suppose that’s all that matters.” My father clears his throat, voice softer now, contemplative. “Your mother would have liked them, you know. She always did have a soft spot for the rebellious ones.”

“Like mother, like daughter.”

In his youth, rebelliondefinedmy father.

He wasn’t born into wealth. He built it.

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