15. Chapter 15

"I hate to say I told you so, but I did tell you it would end like this, didn't I?" Ashlyn rebukes down the other end of the phone. "I don't honestly know what it is you want to hear from me now, Dean?"

"What I always want to hear from you. The bloody truth, Ash. Just give it to me straight."

"Are you sure you're ready to hear it?"

No, I'm absolutely fucking not.

Despite the turmoil raging inside of me, I force my eyes shut and give a small nod of agreement. In my mind, Ashlyn's words are not coming through a phone call from a hundred miles away, but rather standing before me in all her twin glory.

Ashlyn let out a heavy sigh, taking my silence for approval to continue. "Look, I don't want you to feel like I'm chewing you out here. You're my brother and I love you. Fuck, I love you both—especially when you're together—but personally as someone who knows you both very well, I don't think your relationship is healthy. Watching the two of you try and make this work feels a lot like beating a dead horse." I close my eyes and swallow thickly.

"You're fighting with every ounce of strength to make something work that just isn't meant to be. I can see that you both love each other deeply, no one can deny that. But ever since you got together, all you've both done is suffer. That poor girl has endured so much pain because of you, Dean. The universe is practically screaming at you, throwing obstacle after obstacle in your way, trying to tell you that this isn't where you belong, and yet you stubbornly continue to ignore it, blindly pushing forward despite all signs pointing against you." Ashlyn's voice is filled with concern and worry, and my chest tightens at her words, knowing deep down that she's right and I hate it.

With a firm shake of my head, I refuse to believe Ash's words. "No," I insist. "I won't accept that we're not meant for each other. The connection we share is undeniable. My soul is intertwined with Jeyla's, I can feel it." The intensity of our bond sends shivers down my spine and ignites a fire in my chest. Even as I speak, I know without a doubt that she is the missing piece of my heart, the one who completes me in every way.

"If you were, it wouldn't be this hard, Dean. Jeyla almost died twice. I watched the life be stripped away from her after she lost you. And now this whole mess, she's barely hanging on. And if you go off on this mission of yours and fail and she has to face losing you a second time…" Ashlyn's words trail off, but I don't need her to finish the sentence. The image is already burned into my mind, causing my jaw to clench and tears to gather behind my eyelids. "Dean, you know as well as I do it doesn't matter what you do, what level of hell you put her through, when it comes to you, Jeyla will always forgive you."

"I know." I admit quietly while staring down at the ground beneath me. "I'm fucking crazy about her, Ash. The last thing I ever wanted to do is hurt her in any way. Do you think it doesn't kill me to see her so broken? I hate that she's suffered so much because of me. If I could erase all the pain that I caused her, I would in a heartbeat. All I ever wanted was to build a life with her and just be fucking happy. Why is that so damn hard when we love each other so fucking much? I don't understand."

"Love alone just isn't enough on its own." Ashlyn responds. "Sometimes instead of completing you it can have the opposite effect and cause destruction."

I wince at her words when a sharp pain that feels like a hot blade piercing through my heart steals my breath. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, but I force myself to speak. "And you think loving me is destroying Jeyla."

"I think it's destroying you both." I can hear the dejection in my sister's voice. "There isn't a soul on this earth who wanted to see you both make this work more than me, believe me, and a big part of me still truly hopes that you still do," she says with a sniffle.

"But deep down you believe Jeyla will have a better chance of happiness without me..."

"Don't you?"

Shaking my head, I blink back the tears that gather in my eyes once again as I recall the conversation I had on the phone with my sister. Ashlyn only voiced the words that I've been too afraid to admit to myself. I don't know how I managed to contain my emotions for as long as I did during that call because the moment I hit that red button to end the call it felt like a dam had broken inside of me.

How can I ever accept and live with the knowledge that Jeyla could find happiness with someone else and move on?

Even if I do love her enough to let her go, fuck, it would kill me.

Quietly, I observe Jeyla's graceful movements as she slips out of bed, the sheets falling in her wake like a gentle waterfall. Every time I see the darkening bruise across the smooth of her lower back where she was assailed by Lukin's cronies my blood boils. In the light of the early morning the bruises, scrapes and cuts seem darker and prominent.

She gathers my t-shirt and drapes it over her body, the material barely reaching her knees. With soft footsteps, she glides over to the window, her silhouette highlighted by the sun's golden glow. I draw in a deep breath and exhale. The room feels like a tangled web of emotions between us. Uncertainty and confusion linger like a bad stench in the air. Yet amidst all this chaos, one thing remains crystal clear—we're still fiercely and hopelessly in love with each other.

I'm just scared that like Ash said, our love isn't going to be enough to save us this time.

After everything she's suffered, it's no surprise that Jeyla's faith in me has been shaken. And I hate myself for it. I can see it in her eyes, the way she looks at me with uncertainty and fear. I can hear it in the timbre of her voice when she speaks, the way it trembles and wavers. She's built up an impenetrable wall, trying her damned hardest to keep me out so she doesn't get hurt again.

I can't blame her. I've let her down in the worst way possible. I vowed to protect her, to love her, to be there for her no matter what. And I failed. It was out of my control, but I failed her, nonetheless.

Now, she's rightfully distant and guarded, and I can't blame her for it. I can feel the weight of her defensiveness, like a physical barrier between us, as she struggles to hold back her emotions and protect her heart from being broken again. Just as I have no might when it comes to her, she has no control when it comes to me, so we keep falling into the same old habits again and again.

I've shattered her trust one too many times, but this time it's going to take a lot to earn it back… if I get the chance that is.

She's riddled with guilt over us sleeping together yet again. I can practically hear her mind reeling from all the way across the room. I know Jeyla well enough to sense her internal struggle, she's torn between her worries for our son's safety and not wanting to sacrifice what little time we may have left together.

The green light for the operation is imminent, it can come at any moment and once it does, we'll only have a matter of a couple of hours to gear up and move out. That's why I can't afford to waste even a single moment with her... because deep down, I know that my gut feeling is right. There is a very high chance I might not make it back from this operation alive. My stomach churns with unease while I struggle to push aside the dark thoughts and focus on Jeyla.

With a sigh I slip out of bed and pull my boxers on before I move over to her. I sidle up behind her and wrap my arm around her waist, gently drawing her back into my chest. I hear her sigh and her head falls back against my chest. My lips find the dip of her collarbone and I press a lingering kiss there and draw in a deep breath, sucking in the scent of her till my lungs are full of it. "You should be sleeping," I speak softly in her ear and feel her shoulder lift in a shrug.

"I can't sleep. Not while DJ is out there." As she speaks, her eyes focus on the window, where a sleek Shadow R1 was seen racing down the runway and taking off into the early morning sky. The rumble of its engines echoes in the stillness of the room. Her mind clearly consumed with thoughts of our son. She turns to me, before asking anxiously, "How much longer until we receive news about the mission?"

"Shouldn't be much longer." My eyes lift and watch the jets tail quickly vanish out of sight. "It's a complex operation, so they're likely going through every detail with a fine-tooth comb before we can even think about moving out." My hands move to her shoulders, and I knead her tense muscles slowly hoping to relax her.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind. I just want him back, Dean." Jeyla laments, her voice breaking. She looks down and pulls my shirt away from her body and stares down at the small round stains of what I'm assuming is milk that's seeping from her breasts. "It's his feeding time right now. I should be feeding him, Dean. DJ can't drink formula, it upsets his stomach. God, I can already hear him screaming with hunger. He's probably starving." She weeps woefully into my chest.

My heart twists terribly in my chest as I twirl her around and bring her close against my chest. "Hey, look at me," I tip her head up to meet my eyes. "Babies are incredibly resilient," I reassure her, my voice soft yet firm. "And our son is a fighter just like his mother. Think about what he's already overcome. Try and focus on the fact that he's well. And he will be back in your loving arms very soon, I promise." I brush a strand of hair away from her tear-stained face and caress her bruised cheek softly with my thumb. "I need you to just hold on a little longer, my love."

The weight of the situation rests heavily on her delicate shoulders, but I know Jeyla has the resilience to bear it. After all, she is not just the love of my life, she is also an unstoppable force of love and strength. Which is why I fell out of my arse in love with her.

"I'm scared, Dean," Jeyla whimpers. "I'm so terrified something horrible is going to happen to him or you." She states, lifting her hand and pressing it against her chest. "I have this horrible feeling in my chest, and I can't shake it."

I shake my head and press a kiss to her forehead, my arms tightening around her waist. "I know, baby, I know, but I swear to you nothing is going to happen to him. I won't let it."

A fresh batch of tears fill her beautiful green eyes. "You can't make the same promise about yourself though."

Despite her tears and fears, she looks up at me with such conviction and love in her eyes that I can feel it fuelling me with strength. There isn't an ounce of fear of what may or may not happen to me so long as I know Jeyla and DJ are both safe. I'll walk through the fiery gates of hell with a grin on my face. What I fear the most is what I'm leaving behind.

Suddenly an alarm tears through the quiet of the room, a shrill, unrelenting sound that sends my heart into overdrive. I recognise the sound immediately. The klaxon pierces the air, a deafening siren that immediately triggers my training. It blares again—no mistaking it, this is a scramble. "Scramble!" someone shouts from down the corridor, their voice barely audible over the blaring alarm.

"What is that?" Jeyla yells, her hands flying up to cover her ears in an attempt to drown out the noise. It could either be a drill or a real threat—an aircraft has entered our airspace and we need to intercept it.

Without hesitation, I pull away from Jeyla and rush over to the door, flinging it open to see one of our ground team members about to knock. "Matthews?"

"Captain." He greets me with a quick salute. "I apologize for disturbing you so early, sir, but..." I already know what he's going to say. "You've been called for a scramble."

"Is it a drill?" Matthews shakes his head.

"No sir, air control has detected an unidentified aircraft heading northwest directly into our airspace."

"Who is supposed to be on the QRA rota?" I ask urgently as I grab my flight gear out of the wardrobe. My mind races as I hurry to put on my flight suit, knowing that time is of the essence. Matthews shifts anxiously from foot to foot while waiting for me in the doorway. "Malik and Killian were on duty, but Killian suffered an ankle injury and is unable to fly sir." I nod as I finish suiting up and grab my equipment. "Typhoon three is fuelled and ready for you." The urgency in his tone matches the gravity of the situation.

Jeyla walks gracefully over to me as I sit on the edge of the bed, hastily pulling on my boots and lacing them up. Her voice is filled with concern as she asks, "Dean? What's going on?"

Upon hearing the concern in Jeyla's voice I glance up at her, trying my hardest to hide the urgency in my movements so I don't frighten her. "I don't have time to explain," I say quickly. "But I need to go intercept an aircraft. Just stay here for now, okay baby girl? I'll be back soon."

As I finish tying my boots, I see the worry in her eyes reflecting my own. "Don't worry," I assure her. "This happens from time to time. It's probably just an aircraft that's lost communication. I'll be back in thirty minutes tops."

Without waiting for a response, I rush out of the bunker and down the long corridor towards the hangars where my jet is kept. The sound of boots pounding on the concrete echoes in the hallway. The ground crew is already at the Typhoon, their movements practiced and precise as always. The canopy is open, ladder in place. I take the steps two at a time and slide into the cockpit, feeling the familiar contours of the ejection seat against my back. "Pre- flight checks done?"

"Yes Captain," they reply confidently.

Scrambling to intercept an unknown aircraft is nothing new for me in this line of work, but the surge of adrenaline that rushes through my veins in moments like these is why I love my job. Protecting the skies of my country is more than just a job, it's a passion that fuels me every day. And now, as I prepare to take off into the unknown, that passion burns brighter than ever, especially since it's been over a year since I last flew.

"Start her up!" I shout over the din, though I know the crew chief is already on it. The engines roar to life, vibrating through the frame of the jet. My hands move on instinct, flipping switches, checking gauges, running through the quick-start checklist I've completed many times before.

"Bullseye, you're clear to taxi," the voice in my headset crackles. I give a thumbs up and ease the throttle forward. The Typhoon responds like a caged beast, eager to be unleashed. Fuck, it's been so long, I've truly miss it. The runway lights flash by in a blur as I taxi into position. Ahead, the tarmac stretches out, dark and wet from the storm the night before.

"Bullseye, you are cleared for take-off," comes the final confirmation. I shove the throttles to full military power, then into afterburner. The engines scream, and the force pushes me back into my seat as the Typhoon surges forward, wheels leaving the ground in a matter of seconds. The exhilaration of the climb grips me, but I shove it down, focusing on the task ahead.

"Bullseye airborne," I report, levelling off at 10,000 feet, the landscape of England slips away beneath me. The early morning sky is dewy and grey, but the radar paints a different picture—a blip moving fast, just off the coast. An unidentified aircraft, no transponder, no flight plan.

"Bullseye, proceed to intercept," the controller's voice in my ear is calm, professional. Just another day, but the tension gathered in my chest tells me otherwise.

I adjust course, the Typhoon responding instantly while I push the throttle forward. The target is still out of visual range, but it won't be long now. My eyes flicker between the radar and the sky ahead, searching for the first sign of the intruder. To my left is my wingman, Lieutenant Malik flying steady alongside of me.

There you are. Straight ahead I spot the plane, just a faint silhouette, growing larger by the second. I steady my breathing, my fingers tightening on the stick.

"This is Bullseye, I have visual on the target," I say, voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. "Moving in to identify."

The other aircraft come into focus, a large, twin-engine jet, no markings visible in the gloom. My thumb hovers over the comms switch, ready to hail them. One wrong move here could change everything.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is Bullseye of the Royal Air Force. You are entering restricted airspace. Respond immediately, or you will be engaged."

Silence. The seconds drag on, each one feeling like an eternity. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for a response. The intruder keeps its course, steady and unflinching.

"Unidentified aircraft, respond!" I demand, more forcefully this time. I can almost hear my own pulse in the silence that follows. Come on, you prick, respond.

Then, finally, a crackle of static, and a voice—broken, hesitant—but there. Relief floods through me, but I keep my tone firm as I guide the unknown aircraft away from danger, escorting it out of restricted airspace.

As the threat recedes and the sky is clear, I let out a long breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. The tension in my shoulders ease instantly, but I know better than to relax completely. My guard is always up.

"Bullseye, Moose, return to base," comes the call, and I turn the Typhoon back toward base; the lights of the airbase twinkles faintly in the distance as I approach.

As I descend, the adrenaline starts to fade, replaced by the steady, familiar rhythm of post-scramble routine. The ground crew will be waiting, the debrief ready to go. But for now, the roar of the Typhoon's engines is my only companion, a comforting presence in the early morning sky as the sun begins to rise.

Touching down feels like exhaling after holding my breath for far too long. The runway lights welcome me back, and I ease the jet to a stop, the canopy lifts with a hiss of compressed air and I climb out, legs a bit unsteady after such a long time. The cool air a sharp contrast to the warmth of the cockpit. The ground crew is already swarming the aircraft.

"Nice work, Captain," the crew chief's voice cuts through the fading roar of the engines as I remove my helmet. I nod, still buzzing with the adrenaline that's only now beginning to ebb away. My mind is already replaying every manoeuvre, every split-second decision, as I hand over the aircraft. Descending the ladder, I jump the last step, feeling the solid ground beneath my boots. As I run a hand through my sweat-dampened hair, I catch sight of Jeyla standing a few paces away, her eyes fixed on me.

One of the crew members steps forward, taking my helmet and gear, and I unzip my flight suit, the cool morning air rushing in as I walk towards her. "What are you doing out here, JJ?" I ask, closing the distance between us.

Jeyla shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile playing on her lips as she crosses her arms and confidently strides towards me. "Did you honestly think I would pass up the chance to watch you in action, Captain?" Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of fondness and admiration as she tilts her head back to meet my gaze. "I used to resent your job for keeping you away for so long, but seeing you up there… actually witnessing you fly is a whole different experience…"

"Is it now?" I tease with a grin, taking another step closer and gently placing my hands on either side of her face.

"Absolutely," Jeyla replies, her voice filled with genuine admiration. "It's an incredible sight, watching you race off without hesitation, ready to protect our country." She leans into my touch, never breaking our intense eye contact. "You were born to be a combat pilot; it suits you perfectly." Jeyla's words fill me with a sense of purpose and belonging, and I can't help but lean down to press a kiss to her forehead before wrapping her in a tight embrace. When Jeyla tips her head back to look up at me, our eyes interlock and I catch the hint of desire radiating deep in those emerald eyes of hers.

"You need to stop looking at me like that."

Her dark brows fuse slightly, "Like what?"

"Like you want to take me back to my bunker, climb on top of me and have your wicked way with me," I murmur quietly into her ear with a teasing smile. Jeyla's face flushes a pretty shade of pink, and she stares up at me, fighting with all her might to keep a straight face but I can see the mirth in her eyes as she playfully pushes me away.

"I am not, shut up."

A deep, rich laugh bursts from my chest as I wrap my large hands around her small waist and pull her back against me. The warmth of her body presses against mine, making my heart race with excitement. "Did it make you feel weak in the knees, watching me fly?"

Jeyla's cheeks flush even deeper at my teasing remark, but she doesn't deny it. Instead, she runs her tongue over her full, luscious lips and nibbles on them softly. "I can't deny that watching you fly stirred something inside of me. It was... quite sexy."

My eyebrows raise in surprise and amusement, unable to hide the smug grin that spreads across my face. I know Jeyla can never resist me when I'm in my uniform, but to hear that she was turned on by watching me fly adds a whole new level of satisfaction. The thrill of flying mixed with the heat between us is an intoxicating combination, and I want nothing more than to explore it further with her.

But first, I need to find a way out of this mares nest.