Page 42 of Ranger’s Protection

We sit in silence for a moment, Graham massaging my feet while our daughter kicks and rolls inside me. This is my life now. This peaceful, domestic, beautiful life I never thought I'd have.

Two years ago, I was hiding in a motel room, waiting to die.

Now I'm sitting in my living room with the man I love, pregnant with our baby, living in a town where I have friends and a business and a future that feels real.

The war with the Vipers ended. Demon is gone. The remaining Vipers scattered or arrested. The threat was neutralized. I testified against Marcus Vale without fear of retaliation. Stood up in court and told the truth about David Miller's murder. Vale got life without parole. The money laundering operation was dismantled. Justice, as much as justice exists in this world.

After that, things got easier. The constant security protocols relaxed. I could leave the clubhouse without an armed escort. I could breathe without checking over my shoulder every five seconds.

Graham and I started actually dating instead of just surviving together. Dinners at local restaurants. Walks through downtown Millhaven. Movie nights at the clubhouse with the whole family. Normal couple things that felt extraordinary because we'd earned them.

Six months after the war ended, I opened my accounting office. Small place on Main Street, just me and a part-time assistant, handling taxes and bookkeeping for local businesses and individuals. Legitimate work. Honest work. The kind of accounting where the numbers actually make sense and nobody's laundering money for criminals.

It's not glamorous, but it's mine. My business. My livelihood. My contribution to this town that's become home.

"I have something for you," Graham says, pulling me from my thoughts.

"If it's more prenatal vitamins, I'm going to throw them at your head. I already take seventeen supplements a day. I rattle when I walk."

He laughs. "Not vitamins. Something better."

He shifts my feet off his lap and stands. For a moment I think he's going to grab something from his jacket, but instead he drops to one knee in front of the couch.

My heart skips a beat.

"Graham—"

"Let me get this out before I lose my nerve," he says, and I realize his hands are shaking slightly. Graham Nash, the man who drove through a fight without breaking a sweat, is nervous. "I've been carrying this around for three weeks trying to figure out the perfect moment. The perfect words. The perfect way to do this. Then I realized there is no perfect moment. Just moments that matter. And every moment with you matters."

He pulls a small velvet box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a ring. White gold with a single diamond that catches the afternoon light streaming through our living room window.

"Delilah Moore," he continues, his voice steady now despite the shaking hands. "Two years ago, I knocked on a motel room door and met the woman who would change my entire life. You were scared, brave and so fucking stubborn, but I knew within hours that you were special. That you mattered. That I wanted to protect you not just because it was my job but because you deserved protecting."

Tears are streaming down my face now, but I don't interrupt. Can't interrupt. Can barely breathe.

"I fell in love with you fast. Faster than I thought possible. Faster than made any sense." He smiles slightly. "But loving you has never been about tactics or logic. It's been about recognition. Knowing I found something worth keeping. Worth fighting for. Worth building a life around."

"Graham," I manage through the tears.

"You've given me everything I didn't know I wanted. A home. A future. A family. This baby we're going to meet in three months who's already stubborn as hell just like her mother." He reaches up and wipes tears from my cheeks with his thumb. "I want to marry you, Delilah. I want to be your husband. I want our daughter to grow up knowing her parents are committed to each other and to her. I want fifty, sixty, seventy more years of coming home to you. Of building this life. Of choosing you every single day."

He takes the ring from the box, holding it ready but not yet putting it on my finger.

"So, I'm asking. Will you marry me?"

I can't speak. Can't form words around the emotion clogging my throat. So, I just nod frantically, laughing and crying simultaneously, reaching for him.

"Yes," I finally manage. "Yes yes yes. Of course yes."

He slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, because of course it does, because Graham plans everything down to the smallest detail. Then he's up on the couch beside me, pulling me into his arms as gentle as he can given my pregnant belly between us, kissing me like his life depends on it.

"I love you," he says. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too. I've loved you since you held my hand in the car. Since you stayed with me that first night when I couldn't sleep." I pull back to look at him, at his hazel eyes that see everything, at the face I wake up to every morning. "You saved my life, Graham. And then you gave me a life worth living."

"You saved mine too. I just didn't know I needed saving until you opened that door."

Our daughter kicks hard, right between us where our bodies are pressed together. We both laugh.