Page 209 of Double Daddies
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I follow the twins to their living room, the silence heavy with unspoken words. I sit between them, the warmth of their bodies a comforting presence, a reminder that I'm not alone, that they are here for me. And as the movie begins to play, I allow myself to sink into their embrace, their strength giving me the courage to face the fears that threaten to consume me.
Chapter Eight
Elijah
I know we need to keep a closer eye on Wren. I can’t believe that fucking asshole had the nerve to show his face in our city. He better hope that I never come face to face with him. There won’t be much of a face left to recognize when I’m done with him.
As the movie continues to play, I glance down at our little bird to see she’s fallen asleep. Ezra gives me a knowing look, and I follow him to the kitchen.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, keeping my voice low so as not to wake her.
“We keep her safe, no matter what,” he replies, his tone firm.
“And how do we do that?”
“Move her in with us, obviously. We’ll get a team of men to keep an eye on her and Baines. She will have a guard twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I won’t take no for an answer.” Ezra folds his arms over his chest.
“We have to tell her, Ez.”
“I know. I’m not trying to hide anything from her. I think she’s had enough of that. But if she sees the extent of what we arewilling to do to keep her safe, it may change her mind about us. This isn’t a game, Elijah. It never has been.”
“I know. I want her safe just as much as you do. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“Did you get the tracker?” he asks, keeping his voice low.
“I did,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “Where do you want to put it?”
“Her neck, so her hair covers it. Let’s do it while she’s asleep. We can't risk her finding it.”
I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of losing her is too much to bear, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
We quietly make our way to the living room, where Wren is still sound asleep. She looks so peaceful, so vulnerable, and it breaks my heart to think of the fear that’s been following her. We move closer, our steps silent as I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small device. It’s no bigger than a grain of rice, but it could mean the difference between life and death.
I gently brush her hair aside, revealing the smooth skin of her neck. I carefully clean the spot with an alcohol wipe. Ezra holds the tracker in place, his hands steady as he presses it against her skin. There’s a faint hiss as it embeds in her skin. Wren flinches in her sleep, but she doesn't wake up.
We stand there for a moment, our eyes locked on hers, the weight of what we’ve done pressing down on us. But we know that it’s necessary, that it’s the only way to keep her safe.
I look at Ezra, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. “It’s done,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.
I nod, my throat tight with emotion. “We’ll keep her safe, Ez,” I say, trying to reassure myself as much as him. We stand there for a moment longer, watching her sleep, the weight of our responsibility settling over us like a heavy cloak.
“I’m going to get a drink. You want anything?” I offer, trying to break the tension.
“Nah, I’m good,” he replies, his eyes never leaving her. I realize I've never seen my brother this enamored with a woman before.
I make my way to the kitchen, my mind racing with thoughts of Richard and what we’ll do if he shows up. I pour myself a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. As I take a sip, the smoky flavor of the bourbon burns my throat, and I feel a sense of resolve settle over me. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, to make sure that she never has to feel the fear that’s been haunting her.Whatever it takes.
Chapter Nine
Wren
I wake to the aroma of something delicious cooking—garlic, herbs, and a hint of roasted vegetables. The living room is empty, but faint voices drift from the kitchen. Stretching lazily, I pad across the cool wooden floor, the faint creak of the boards underfoot blending with the soft clatter of pans.
The twins move around each other in perfect synchrony, like a well-rehearsed dance. Elijah’s knife glides effortlessly through vegetables, while Ezra stirs the pasta with practiced ease. The steam curls upward, catching the light and framing their focused faces. Elijah’s tattoos peek out from his rolled-up sleeves, the inked lines shifting as his muscles flex. Ezra adjusts the burner with precision, his movements calm and deliberate.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Elijah teases, his voice warm as he sets a bowl of salad on the table. Ezra glances over his shoulder, his smile soft and inviting. They’re both sexy as hell in suits, but seeing them like this—domesticated, relaxed—is ten times hotter.
“We were just about to wake you up. Dinner’s ready,” Ezra says, turning off the burner and draining the pasta. The sound of the water rushing into the sink fills the room.
