Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

T wo days later, Yede bent over the delicate mechanisms of the mechanical dog he was crafting for Liam. The metal parts clicked together perfectly, each component carefully chosen. He’d already finished Gemma’s gift.

The workshop hummed with familiar sounds, but now they were accompanied by distant laughter drifting down the hallway. His chest tightened at the sound. Two nights of holding Gemma in his arms, of waking up to her smile, of sharing quiet moments after Liam fell asleep—it felt like a dream he didn’t deserve.

He attached the tail to the dog, testing its movement. The joints rotated smoothly, catching the light from his work lamp. Liam would love it. The thought of the boy’s excited face made him smile, even as anxiety crept in around the edges of his happiness. His hand stilled on the toy. What if something happened to them?

Most of the time he could control his fears, enjoy the present just as Gemma had suggested, but there were still times when those fears snuck through his defenses.

The sound of running feet snapped him out of his abstraction. Liam’s footsteps, he knew as he quickly tucked the dog away. How had the boy become so essential to his life in such a short time? The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

But even though the thought of losing them sat like a stone in his stomach, warmth spread through his chest at the sound of Liam’s voice calling his name.

“Mama made more sweet rolls, Yede. She said to come and get one while it’s warm.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he promised. “Don’t eat them all before I get there.”

Liam giggled and raced away again. He was about to pull the dog back out when the proximity alarm sounded—the same alarm that had alerted him to Liam’s and Gemma’s presence the night of the storm.

He activated the display screens. Three distinct heat signatures moved steadily up the mountain path—large, purposeful signatures, not the desperate stumbling of lost travelers. Human males.

The protective instinct that had lain dormant for so long roared to life. His eyes darted to the doorway, his ears straining to catch the sounds of Gemma and Liam in the other room. They were still laughing, unaware of the approaching threat.

His hand threatened to shake as he activated the small surveillance drone. The device hummed to life, its propellers spinning with a soft whir that barely registered over the pounding of his heart. He guided it through the workshop’s exterior vent, just as he had so many times before—but never with such an important mission.

The drone’s feed appeared on his display, showing crystal-clear images of the approaching males. Three big males in heavy winter gear traveling in a loose formation. He automatically assessed them—not formally trained but dangerous nonetheless. Their clothes bore a sloppy resemblance to a uniform, and each of them had a patch on their shoulder. His eyes narrowed as he zoomed in on the patch—the mining company’s logo, confirming his worst fears.

His growl echoed through the workshop. These weren’t random travelers or lost hunters—they were here for Gemma and Liam. Images flashed through his mind: Liam’s fading bruise, Gemma’s haunted eyes when she spoke of the mine, the way they’d both been half-frozen when he found them.

He studied their trajectory and realized they were following the same path Gemma and Liam had used. They would pass the entrance to his home and while it was designed to be unobtrusive, it would not escape a trained eye. There was no chance they would simply pass by.

His fur bristled as rage coursed through him, hot and fierce. He’d fought in wars, seen the worst beings could do to each other. He recognized predators when he saw them. Time to protect what was his.

His muscles coiled with familiar tension as he accessed the hidden compartment behind his workbench. The panel slid open silently, revealing the cache of weapons he’d hoped never to use again. His military training kicked in, mind clearing of everything except the immediate threat.

He checked the charge on his plasma rifle—full, as always. He’d maintained his weapons meticulously, even while praying they’d gather dust forever. The warrior he’d tried to leave behind emerged fully formed, ready for combat.

These males would never lay their hands on his family.

The crunch of boots on snow, accompanied by rough male voices, came through the drone’s feed as the men drew closer.

“…have to be up here somewhere. This is the only other path through the mountains.” The gravelly voice carried clearly through the crisp mountain air.

“It’s not a path—it’s a fucking goat track. Are you sure they’re really up here?” Another voice, higher and nasal.

“Shut up and keep moving.” The third male was undoubtedly the boss.

He’d heard enough. He picked up his weapon and strode silently out of his workshop. As much as he dreaded it, he needed to warn Gemma and Liam before he confronted the intruders.

Gemma looked up with a warm smile as he entered the kitchen, but it faded at the sight of his expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Three males from the mining company are on their way here,” he growled. “They’ll reach the house soon. I’m going to stop them.”

“No!” Her eyes widened, panic flashing in their emerald depths. “You can’t fight them. What if you’re hurt?”

“I can handle them,” he assured her. “You and Liam stay here where it’s safe. Lock the door and don’t open it until I get back.”

Liam watched, wide-eyed, from his perch on the bench, his sweet roll forgotten.

“You’re not going out there alone,” she said. “This is my fight too.”

“Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. Let me handle this.”

“No.” She stepped closer, placing her hand on his arm. “I can’t just hide here. I need to face them—not just for me, but for everyone else still trapped at the mine.”

He hesitated. The urge to protect her, to keep her safely hidden away, battled with his knowledge of her strength and courage. But if anything happened to her…

“I won’t risk losing you.” His voice came out gruff, strained by emotion.

“You won’t lose me.” She gave him a determined look, her eyes blazing. “I can do this. I need to do this.”