Page 45 of This Life of Mine

So I run.

I push harder, burning off the urge to break down a door and take back what was never mine.

My Airbnb is only a few blocks away—around the corner from her shop. Close enough to watch and respond when needed.

That’s the job. Watch. Wait. Stay out of the way.

I’ve done this before. Never cared who they slept with. Never cared who made them laugh.

That’s what unsettles me. The line between assignment and attachment is thinner than it should be. And part of me doesn’t want it to stop.

As I run to feel the burn in my lungs, I hear it. A scream—shrill, panicked, and unmistakablyhers.

My body moves before my brain does.

Chapter fifteen

Alex

Icut across the street, my pace breaking into a sprint the moment the shop comes into view.

Headlights wash over the parking lot. A car door gapes open. A man stands pressed into her space, violating every instinct I have. Too close. Too aggressive. His hands are on her—possessive, demanding, unwelcome.

The moment I see her tense beneath his grip, something dark shifts inside me.

Her fucking ex. Cole.

I recognize him instantly. I’ve memorized his file. Every report. Every accusation. I know who he is and what he’s capable of.

The space separating us disappears beneath my feet. As I get closer, his expression becomes clear. Dominant rage—absolute audacity that he still has the right to corner her.

Lina tries to escape him. He advances.

My vision tunnels.

For a fleeting moment, the world narrows to a single point. The traffic fades. The small town disappears. Even the music drifting from nearby cars vanishes beneath the thunder of my blood rushing through my veins.

Cole’s hand is buried in her hair. His body crowds hers as she struggles to pull away. I watch her feet shift backward. Watch the tension in her shoulders. Watch the fight in her.

I fucking snap.

No anger. Anger burns hot and reckless. This is colder than that. Sharper. The kind of cold that locks into place before a job, before a fight, before someone gets hurt.

Years of training and violence have conditioned my mind to recognize threats before other people notice them. My body reaches the conclusion before my brain can fully process it.

She’s in danger. And he’s the fucking danger.

A familiar calm washes over me, dark and absolute. Every distraction falls away. Every emotion gets shoved aside. The world reduces itself to simple calculations: distance, timing, force. The fastest path between where I am and where I need to be. The most efficient way to separate him from her. The most efficient way to make sure he never puts his hands on her again.

I hit the parking lot at full speed.

Cole doesn’t see me until my hands are on him. One second he has her up against the car, the next, he’s airborne.

I rip him away from her and launch him across the pavement with enough force to send him crashing to the ground. His body skids across the asphalt before coming to a stop.

Not hard enough in my opinion.

I position myself between them before he can recover. All the muscles in my body are locked tight. Every instinct is demanding permission to finish what I started.