10. Chapter 10

"Stay down."

Placing my hand on the asset's shoulder I press him back against one of the crates stacked up in the warehouse while the icy Russian air bites through my tattered clothing. The massive, decrepit building looms around me, filled with shadows and the scent of rust, decay and gunpowder. I'm undercover, deep within enemy territory, my nerves frayed to the breaking point.

I crouch behind a stack of crates, peering through the narrow gaps. My heart pounds in my chest as I listen for any sound that might give away my position. I know they're coming. Viktor's men, with their ruthless efficiency and dead eyes, searching for any sign of betrayal.

A distant sound reaches my ears—a low rumble, growing louder. My pulse quickens. I know that sound too well. Trucks. Armed patrols. I duck further behind the crates, pressing myself into the shadows, trying to become invisible.

Suddenly, the wall behind me explodes in a shower of splinters and debris and I'm thrown forward, my ears ringing, my vision blurred. I scramble to my feet, instinct taking over. My eyes zero in on the asset laying on the floor with his arms over his head. Cursing, I grab him by the scuff of his shirt and pull him along to find cover. But my legs feel heavy, like moving through thick mud, and dragging a half-conscious man feels like I'm carrying deadweight.

Voices shout in Russian, harsh and urgent. I turn to see figures emerging from the dust, their faces obscured by the darkness and dust particles lingering in the air. One of them raises a rifle, and my breath catches in my throat. I duck, feeling the heat of a bullet whiz past my head.

"Come on, move, move…"

We run, zigzagging through the maze of crates filled with weapons and abandoned machinery. My lungs burn, my muscles screaming for relief, but I don't stop. I reach a narrow corridor and slip inside, pressing my back against the cold, damp wall, trying to calm my ragged breathing.

"Oh God, I don't want to die."

Scowling I look down at the asset, and snarl, "You will if you don't stay down and shut up."

Footsteps echo, drawing closer. I lift my gun and slowly pull the chamber back. My hands slick with sweat and blood. The corridor is dark, but I can see silhouettes approaching. Viktor Lukin and his men approach with caution. They're close, too close.

I hear a voice, harsh and commanding. It's a voice I know, one that haunts my dreams. Viktor, a man with cold, dead eyes. My grip tightens on the gun. I have one chance.

Viktor steps into the corridor, less than three feet away from me, his steel-like eyes locking onto mine. Time seems to slow as I lunge forward to fire my gun, but I still, my blood runs ice cold in my veins when I see the face of the person he has in a chokehold. There's a sharp pain in my chest while I stare into the beautiful eyes of my wife; eyes that are now filled with terror and brimming with unshed tears.

"No," I breathe, the hand holding the gun aimed at Viktor's head trembles almost violently.

"Dean..." Jeyla whimpers, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

Viktor stands still, his expression unreadable as he speaks, but the words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears. I just about make out his chilling words as he presses his lips to Jeyla's temple and speaks quietly.

"Say hello to my brother for me," he utters, and I hear Jeyla draw in a sharp breath, the harrowing sound echoes in the rusty walls of the warehouse, her green eyes grow wide in alarm before I see a stream of crimson blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.

"NO!" Viktor lets go of Jeyla and she crumples like a ragdoll. I rush to her side and catch her before she hits the floor, I see the glint of a knife buried deep in her back, piercing straight through her heart.

"JEYLA!"

I jolt awake, gasping for breath, my heart racing like it's about to tear straight through my chest. My hand instinctively reaches under my pillow for my gun. It takes a moment for my brain to acknowledge that I'm home and safe. The room is dark, the shadows on the walls dancing eerily. I look over to my left and see Jeyla is asleep beside me, her chest rising and falling steadily, and my shoulders relax. Thank fucking Christ, it was just a dream. I've been having the same harrowing nightmare since receiving the threat on her life. In every dream Viktor kills her in a different way.

Sitting up, I run a trembling hand through my sweat-soaked hair. The nightmare clings to me, the images too vivid to shake off.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, planting my feet on the cool floor and look back at Jeyla fast asleep. She's safe . My body aches, and I can't shift the icy chill that has settled deep into my bones and the sickening feeling of dread. With a resigned sigh, I bury my face in my hands, trying to steady myself, to push the nightmare back into the recesses of my mind.

But even in the safety of my home, all the horrific things I've seen during my time at that warehouse lingers. The look of Luca's eyes as the light went out when I shot him between the eyes is a haunting reminder of the trauma I can never fully escape.

Quietly, with my gun in one hand, I walk over to the window and look outside. Scanning the area for anything suspicious but find nothing out of the ordinary. The unmarked black BMW with the two-security detail watching the house is parked across the street.

My eyes—heavy and bloodshot—sting with a burning exhaustion. I can easily count on my fingers how many hours I've managed to sleep in the past three months, and even those were not peaceful. Despite my fatigue, I struggle to get more than two hours of rest each night. Whether I am tossing and turning or finally managing to drift off, I inevitably wake up in a panic, drenched in a cold sweat from nightmares.

Silently, I slip out of the room and tiptoe across the floor, careful not to make a sound that might wake Jeyla. She's always been a light sleeper, her senses sharp even in sleep. As I reach the door, I turn back to look at her peaceful form before closing it gently behind me.

A quick check on DJ, sleeping soundly in his bed, and then I make my way downstairs. Lex's head pops up from his bed in the living room, his ears twitching as he hears me approaching. His curious eyes follow my every move. Unable to shake off this sense of unease, I know I won't be able to truly rest until I make sure the house is secure. So, I diligently inspect each door and window on the ground floor, checking that they are all securely locked. Not that the rickety locks on these doors and windows would be difficult to bust through to anyone with any intention of getting into the house.

We just need to get through tonight, and tomorrow the people I love will all be in a safe location, and I can stop fretting about their safety and concentrate on getting myself out of this mess in one piece.

Facing Jeyla after everything was fucking tough, but I'm honestly dreading seeing my mother and Ash tomorrow. My mother's reaction more than Ash's. When Oz and Jeyla told me about how much my mother suffered, I don't know how I will find the strength to look her in the eyes and not be riddled with guilt for what I have put them all through.

Not that I was given many choices in the matter. My only options were to either fake my death or actually die. Obviously, I chose the former… fat fucking good that did though, I squandered a year of my life and hurt the people I love only to be back in the same sinking boat I was in to begin with.

Sitting on the love chair in the living room, I stare at the photo of Jeyla and me on our wedding day. One minute I'm reminiscing about that day and how happy we were and the next it's six in the morning and I'm jumping awake when I hear Jeyla's fretful voice shouting my name.

"Dean!"

My heart lurches into overdrive as I jump up from the chair, adrenaline coursing through my veins at the thought of something happening to her or DJ. I don't think, only react as I sprint towards the stairs. I find her there, halfway down the staircase, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.

"JJ? What is it, baby, what's wrong?" I ask urgently, scanning her body for any signs of injury.

A wave of relief washes over her face when she sees me, and she rushes down the remaining steps, practically leaping into my arms. I catch her effortlessly, my arms encasing her protectively as she clings to me like a lifeline.

"Oh, thank God." Tears stream down her cheeks as she nuzzles her face into my neck. "I woke up and you weren't there," she sobs, her heart pounding against my chest. "I thought I had been dreaming, but you're here. You're really here."

Closing my eyes, I hold onto her even tighter, feeling immense relief flood through me as well. "I'm here, JJ. It's not a dream," I reassure her, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair. "Christ, you scared me half to death."

"You scared me too," she chokes out between sobs. "I woke up and you were gone. Why would you sneak out on me like that?"

Gently brushing away her tears, I cup her face in my hands and gaze into her eyes. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I was feeling restless and couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to wake you so I came down here and must have fallen asleep on the chair."

"You should have woken me." Jeyla sighs, closing her eyes when I brush away the stream of tears with my thumbs. Over her head I notice movement at the top of the stairs and look up to find my brother standing there in a pair of shorts, watching us. I can see the look of concern shadowing his features and I give him a nod, silently assuring him that she's okay, to which he responds with his own nod and walks back to his bedroom leaving us alone.

"When have I ever woken you while you're asleep, JJ?" I respond with a smile, and she pins me with a po-faced look.

"Would you like me to start listing off the times, because I recall many instances, Lieutenant." The suggestive look in her eyes stirs something inside me when I too recall the many instances I have woken her up from her sleep… with my tongue.

"Those were under very special circumstances."

"You were horny."

"I was very horny." Jeyla's tongue lightly trails along her bottom lip and there's a hint of a smile on her face. "And you have a very naughty habit of sleeping naked, Mrs Reyes. How do you expect me to control myself when I wake up and the first thing that I see is your beautiful body sprawled out before me so invitingly." I murmur as I lean in to brush a kiss to her lips. "It would be rude of me to abstain from such enticing offerings, no?"

Jeyla's soft hands grasp my face, stopping me in my tracks before I can fully press my lips to hers. Her touch is gentle yet firm, and I can feel the warmth of her fingertips against my skin. "First of all," she begins, her voice teasing, "I only sleep naked because you have a wicked habit of undressing me in the middle of the night." A sly grin spreads across my face at her words, memories of our late-night escapades flooding back to me.

"And secondly," she continues, "it's Miss Jenkins now. I'm no longer Mrs Reyes."

I furrow my brows in confusion and stare at her. "What do you mean?"

"We're no longer married," she explains calmly. "You died, remember? I was a widow—which means our marriage is null and void."

My jaw drops in disbelief. "Say's fucking who?"

Jeyla shrugs nonchalantly. "Well, for one, there's the death certificate sitting upstairs in my drawer," she says with a slight nod towards the ceiling. "And… Google."

Unable to hold back my amusement, I let out a snort of laughter. "Google?" I repeat incredulously and she simply nods in confirmation. "Do you mean to tell me that you've based your evaluation on whether or not we're still legally married on Google ?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean," Jeyla begins with an impish grin, "technically I haven't legally changed my name back to Jenkins… yet."

"Then you're still Jeyla Reyes and you're not going to change your name back," I tell her, my tone taking on a more serious note. "And as you can see, I'm not dead. So, that certificate holds no weight—you're still my wife." A predatory gleam enters my eyes as I add, "And even if our marriage is considered void, it doesn't change the fact that you will be mine now and always . " My tone drops an octave as I lean in to continue, "Or am I going to have to take you back upstairs, bend you over that bed and fuck you till you remember?"

A spark of desire flashes in Jeyla's eyes and she opens her mouth to respond when DJ's whimpering interrupts her. "Saved by the baby," I tease and press a kiss to her lips before I let her back on her feet. Jeyla turns to walk upstairs but I take hold of her hand, stopping her. "Hey," she looks back at me questioningly, "We need to be out of here by midday." And just like that a saddened look falls upon her pretty face and it feels like a million daggers being plunged straight into my heart.

"Dean—"

Jeyla's pleading eyes meet mine, and I can feel the weight of her unspoken words. I hate seeing the pain in her gaze, but I know that arguing with me on this matter will only lead to frustration for both of us. With a heavy sigh, she nods in resignation and makes her way up the stairs to tend to our son.

I close my eyes and massage my throbbing temples, feeling the weight of my responsibilities crushing down on me more with every second that ticks on by. The fate of my life seems to be a never-ending cycle of difficult decisions and sacrifices. But as I hear the faint sound of Jeyla's footsteps fade away and the sound of our son crying, I am reminded that it is all for the sake of them.

"Are you nervous?"

Staring at the road ahead, my fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and I nod mutely in response to my brother's question. We're halfway to my parents' house and I have a million and one thoughts whirring in my mind and a nagging feeling deep in my gut that is screaming at me that something horrible is lurking around the corner. "What's wrong?"

Sighing, I turn to Oz in the passenger seat. "Maybe you should have stayed back with Jeyla and DJ," I say, my voice heavy with concern and worry. Oz's brow furrows as he shifts to face me, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

"Dean, they have a team of highly trained security officers watching the house around the clock, right?" I nod in confirmation, but my mind is still racing with all the potential dangers that could happen. But I push those thoughts aside for now. "So, stop fretting," Oz continues, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "They'll be safe for an hour or so." Despite his words, I can't shake off the feeling of unease. In my line of work, one hour can seem like an eternity. A lot of bad shit can happen in that time. "What you need to worry about right now is how you're going to face the wrath of Ash and not give poor mum a heart attack," Oz voices, bringing my attention back to our current dilemma. My stomach churns at the thought of facing Ash and my mother.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm pulling up outside my old childhood home, in my black Lexus. Everything looks the same as I left it, yet everything feels different. I sit with a ball of nerves sitting in my stomach as I look across the road at Jeyla's childhood home. My mind is flooded with so many fond memories it overwhelms me. I can feel a lump forming in my throat as I swallow.

"Dean?" Oz's voice jerks me out of my thoughts, and I turn to look at him. "You all right?"

No, I'm far from all right.

I nod, pulling my hood up I turn the ignition off and pull the key out before I open the door. "Yeah, let's get this over with."

My brother and I step out of the car and walk over to the front door. While Oz unlocks the door, my eyes scan the area and find the black unmarked car sitting across the street with the security officers inside watching the house. I give them a discreet nod and they nod back.

Rolling my shoulders to ease the tension I follow Oz inside. The house still smells like my childhood. The smell of baked goods and flowers from mum's potpourri she has in almost every corner of the house.

"Oscar?" I hear my mother's voice call out to him from the living room and my heart squeezes inside my chest. "Is that you love?"

"Who else is it going to be Mum, we're all here." I hear Ashley respond with a snigger and I smirk.

"Uh, yeah it's me." Oz replies looking back at me. We make our way to the living room. Oz walks in first and I hang back in the corridor by the stairs for a moment to pull my shit together.

"Took your damn time. What did you do crawl here?" Ashley chides with a huff. "You said to be here at ten it's almost eleven." I can't see my twin's face, but I can picture the perturbed look on her face as she scolds our brother for his tardiness.

"Sorry Ash, I can't control the bloody traffic." Oz grumbles in response and pushes his keys into the back pocket of his black jeans.

"What's going on, son?" I hear my dad ask him.

"Yes, please, do tell what's so urgent that you had us all call in sick and gather here at the arse crack of dawn on a Thursday morning, dearest brother?"

"Uhm, well…" Oz looks back at me over his shoulder and takes a step to the side as I push my hood down and walk into the living room.

"Actually, I think I might be to blame for that, Ash." The room falls silent instantly. It's so quiet you can hear a pin drop. I stare at the stunned faces of my family members one by one, starting from my mother who looks as though she's seen a ghost. Ashlyn gasps and presses her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in bewilderment, and filling with tears.

The colour drains away from her face, and she stares back at me with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Dean?" I hear my dad choke out as he pushes himself up to his feet, his hands trembling with disbelief. "Oh my God… how…" His eyes scan over me in shock and then flicker to my brother for confirmation before they settle back on me.

"It's a very, very long story," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "But I'm alive, and I have been this whole time."

"Jesus Christ," my dad utters, his voice cracking as he takes two long strides towards me. He pulls me into a tight hug, and I can feel the strength of his arms as he sobs into my shoulder. My own eyes start to prickle with tears as I close them and like a child, I let myself sink into the comforting warmth of his embrace. "Thank you, Lord, for bringing our son back to us." It's a rare sight to see my strong and stoic father break down like this, and it tears apart my heart knowing that I have caused my family so much pain and suffering already and if this operation goes tits up, they will have to endure it all over again.

My dad and I pull apart and the way he smiles at me with such love and pride, while his eyes still brim with tears stings more than I could have ever imagined.

Next up is Ashlyn… literally the other half of me. "Dean," she whimpers, throwing her arms around my neck. My arms circle her small waist and I lift her off the ground, holding her while she sobs unconsolably. "Oh my God, I didn't want to believe you were gone. I prayed so hard for it to not be true, for you to be alive and find your way back home, and you did. I can't believe you're here."

"Come on, of course I am. You didn't really believe I could stay away for too long, did you? How would I ever function without annoying you?"

Ashlyn smacks my shoulder and half laughs and sobs as she speaks, "God, shut up, it's not funny, you idiot." We pull apart and I wipe away her tears with the back of my fingers.

"I'm sorry I missed your wedding, Ash."

Ashlyn shakes her head, more tears streaming down her cheeks. "You're going to be sorry when my shock wears off." Her eyes open, rimmed red and puffy from crying she looks at me. "If you've been alive this whole time where the hell have you been, Dean?"

"I'll explain later," I gesture to my mum who is now standing a few feet from me, and she nods, stepping back to allow me to turn and face our mum.

"Hey, Mum."

My breath hitches in my throat when my eyes lock with my mother's, and I see a mixture of emotions staring back at me.

"Dean," she whispers, walking over to me slowly, every step wary as though she is afraid if she moves too quickly, I will disappear. My insides ache when she steps close, and her hands cup my face. "Oh, God, are you really here?" she asks, her eyes doing a quick sweep over me to ensure that I am in fact real and not just a figment of her imagination.

My hands curl around her wrists and I turn and kiss each one. "I'm really here."

And then she breaks down. Her knees buckle like someone just ripped the floor out from under her. I catch her and keep her upright, holding her against me as she weeps, repeating the words, "Oh God" and "My baby boy" repeatedly while her entire body shakes with hoarse sobs.

"They told me I had lost you forever." She cries, stroking my face in that affectionate ways mothers do their children. The harder she cries, so do I.

This moment right here is worse than any punishment I can ever endure.

God, please, don't make me put the ones I love through this hell all over again.

I'm so sorry, Mum.

Please forgive me.

After what feels like an eternity of explaining, Oz and I finally manage to sway my hesitant parents and reluctant Ash to pack a bag and seek refuge in a safehouse until the threat is dealt with. Though I know deep down that Viktor wouldn't target my parents, I can't take any risks. A man like Viktor Lukin cannot be underestimated, his reach and power extend far beyond what meets the eye. As they hastily gather belongings, I can't help but feel a sense of urgency and fear creeping up inside me. I can't seem to shift this feeling inside.

Just as I help my parents pack their bags into the unmarked car sitting outside the house my phone starts ringing. I reach into my pocket and take it out.

I recognise that the number is from the military. "Hello?"

"Afternoon Captain Reyes, Chief of Air Scott Marshal here."

My heart sinks. Why is the Chief of Air calling me? Something must be terribly wrong if he's calling me directly. "Yes sir?"

"Captain Reyes, you need to go home to your wife and son right now."

I frown, "Sir? What's going on?"

"Dean, Jeyla is no longer the target. We've received word that Viktor is coming for your son. We contacted the security detail we placed to watch over Jeyla to get them out of there but we're not getting through. We believe they may have been compromised."

"What?!" I bark, my legs shake almost violently under me as I race toward my car.

"Dean?!" Oz calls out as he comes running after me. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean they've been compromised?! They assured me every precaution was taken to ensure their safety. How did he find out the baby is mine?"

"Your wife has you registered as the father on the child's birth certificate." I close my eyes and grip the steering wheel as tight as I can, my knuckles turning white with tension. The urge to put my fist through the window is overwhelming, but I fight it back. No, God, please this cannot be happening.

Starting the car, Oz just manages to throw himself into the passenger seat as I shift the car into gear and hurriedly turn it around, racing down the street back to Jeyla, my tires screeching against the tarmac in protest.

My heart and mind are consumed with crippling fear and anger. "Dean, I assure you we have done everything and have been very diligent with the safety of your family. I've already got a team of special forces officers who are on their way to your house as we speak," the voice on the phone says urgently. "I'll gather up the team from our end and do what we can. And Captain, I know it's difficult, but I need you to remain composed and not lose your head. We're going to handle this. Remember your training. I'll be in touch when we gather more intel."

The line goes dead, and I almost hurl my phone through the windshield in a rage. My hands shake as I scroll through my contacts and dial Jeyla's number. But there's no answer, just endless rings that echo in my ears like a countdown to disaster.

"Come on JJ, answer the phone." I plead, redialling when it goes to her voicemail. "Come on baby, please, please answer the fucking phone."

"Dean, what the fuck is going on?" Oz questions, pulling his seatbelt on with trembling hands. His voice is laced with fear and worry.

Shaking my head, I speed through traffic, zooming in and out of cars as if they're mere obstacles in my path. Keep my fucking composure? Is he serious?

"Keep trying Jeyla," I tell my brother, my voice strained with panic and desperation. He stares at me, his own eyes wide with concern. "Stop asking questions and call her, Oz!" My brother takes my phone and dials Jeyla's number again, his fingers shaking as he presses the buttons.

"Dean, fucking talk to me, what's happening?!" Oz's voice cracks with emotion, his eyes darting between the road, the phone in his hand, and me as we race down the high street. "Jesus, slow the fuck down." I'm breaking every speed limit and road safety law in my desperate rush to get home and protect my family. But right now, the only thing I care about is getting to them.

"I can't slow down. Jeyla's no longer the target, he's coming for DJ. He's already taken out the security. Jeyla's a sitting duck, she's got no fucking protection." There's a searing surge of rage pulsing through my veins at the thought of anything happening to Jeyla and my son. I punch the steering wheel a couple of times when Jeyla's phone goes to voicemail for the fourth time. "God damn it!"

"Dean!" my brother shouts, reaching out to grab the handle above the door, bracing himself for impact when another car pulls out in front of me, but I already anticipate it and swerve to the left, narrowly missing it and zooming past. Oz looks back at the car and then at me, "Fucking Christ…" he utters sinking back into the passenger seat.

JJ, hang in there, baby girl. I'm coming.