6. Chapter 6

"If you were alive where have you been this whole time, Dean?" Oscar questions handing Dean a bottle of beer and taking a seat at the kitchen table. Dean looks down at the bottle in his hand and sighs.

"In a secure and undisclosed location." Oscar and I look at one another and then back at him. "I was placed in protective custody in a safe house and was moved from location to location for over six months."

"A safe house?" I ask and Dean nods. I can see the look of distress on his face as he's forced to relive whatever it was that he's endured the past year. "Why were you placed in a safe house? Isn't that for people who are under threat?"

Dean nods again and takes a long sip of his beer before answering. "It is. I… had some pretty nasty people after me, I still do." My heart sinks deep into my gut. "Which is why I was ordered to relocate to a secure location and the military had to fake my death and give me a whole new identity. I'm no longer Dean Reyes. Legally, I'm Damon Ruiz." My stomach turns in on itself and I feel as though I'm going to throw up while I listen to him explain. "They fabricated an accident that my plane crashed due to an engine failure during an advanced training session. Everything was strategically planned by intelligence agencies and military strategists to make it look like I had died in that crash. The people after me wouldn't have stopped hunting me down. They were out for blood, so everyone had to believe that I died in order to survive, and more importantly protect all of you."

"Jesus Christ, who the hell did you piss off for them to want you dead, Dean?" Oscar questions, his brows fusing. Dean sighs, sets his bottle of beer down on the table and runs a hand through his hair.

Dean's voice lowers to a hushed tone as he leans in closer. "For your own protection, I can't disclose specific details, but I was one of only five individuals chosen for a high-stakes covert operation." He paused, his expression serious and intense. "I spent two gruelling months undergoing specialized training for the mission; language skills, combat tactics, survival techniques, and covert operations." His gaze shifted to meet mine. "Do you remember when I was deployed before we got married? I was gone for seven long months." My heart constricted at the memory, the endless days and weeks of waiting just to hear from him. "I was stationed in Belgorod, a city in Russia. Myself and one other member of my team had to go deep undercover to gather critical intelligence about a planned nuclear weapons deal and find out the location and safely retrieve the asset. The organisation was a notorious drug cartel run by Viktor Lukin and his younger brother Luca who have been linked to funding nuclear weapons for radical organisations." The gravity of his words hangs heavy in the air as does my heart in my chest as I process the danger he had to face for his country.

Oscar's voice is heavy as he asks, "The asset?"

Dean's nod is accompanied by a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his words. "Yes, they abducted someone of great importance, someone with valuable information. My team and I were tasked with infiltrating their organization, posing as members to disrupt their operations and ultimately locate and rescue the asset, which we did. Turns out we had a mole within the team, and he compromised our mission by ratting us out to Viktor." Dean explains, his jaw ticking in agitation.

"You can imagine the blood bath that ensued after that. My job was to keep the asset alive and get him back safely, which I did, but during the confrontation I had a clear shot. I was aiming to shoot Viktor straight through the back of the head when his brother intercepted and took the bullet for him." A pained expression crosses his face at the memory and he sighs.

"With the intel we got on Lukin, they should have had enough to incriminate him, but somehow, he got off. The system is so corrupt that powerful men like him have an army of power players in his back pocket, so it's almost impossible to convict him." Dean clarifies, his voice growing colder and more ominous.

"Naturally, Viktor was enraged by the setback and the loss of his brother, so he was out for the head of the person who killed his brother and eventually despite every effort made to ensure my identity remained undisclosed, he discovered it was me, and put a ten-million-dollar bounty on my head." Dean lifts his eyes and looks at me, his gaze holding a haunted look filled with deep affliction that pierces my heart. "That's why I was urgently called back after our honeymoon," he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "The Navy started to receive threats, not just for me, but for all of us involved in the mission and our loved ones. That's when they devised the plan to 'kill me off' in hopes that Viktor would call off the bounty if he believed the person responsible for his brother's death was dead." The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, like a dark cloud threatening to burst into a storm.

"And did it?" Oscar speaks up, leaning forward in his seat and resting his forearms on the table while he regards his younger brother closely.

"For a while, yeah," Dean answers with a shrug. "After the supposed crash I spent six months moving from safe house to safe house until things died down. There was a security team watching over all of you—especially Jeyla—just in case Viktor made good on his threats and wanted to avenge his brother by coming after her. I couldn't risk that. Eventually, I got a new identity, a fake background and a job as a construction worker. They set me up in a quaint little town in Italy called Sorento and that's where I've been till now. It's where I was supposed to stay."

My mind is racing trying to make sense and take in all of the information. My leg bounces anxiously under the table while my fingers tremble in apprehension. I can feel a panic attack looming.

"Why do I anticipate a ‘but' coming?" Oscar says, his tone weary.

Dean releases a slow breath and stands up from his chair before speaking. "A week ago, the Navy received an envelope." Oscar and I watch him pacing back and forth. "The envelope was full of photos of Jeyla and a note to say that Viktor knows I'm alive and if I don't crawl out of the hole I've been hiding in, he'll…" Oscar and Dean both turn their gazes to look at me while I sit there staring at Dean numbly. "Take the next best thing."

A thick, suffocating silence hangs in the air between us as I stare straight ahead, unable to find my voice. My head and heart are both pounding with shock and disbelief at Dean's words. It all feels like a bad dream, a plot from some cheesy action movie. Me, the target of a notorious cartel? This can't be real life. But then again, reality has a way of being more terrifying than fiction. Especially in my case.

"So, you're telling me Jeyla is now the target of a dangerous leader of some notorious cartel that you have pissed off?" Oscar intones, his tone low and sinister as he addresses his brother. "Tell me I'm mistaken, Dean and that's not the fucking case?"

"Why do you think I'm back, Oz?!" Dean snaps angrily, his green eyes narrowing. "Do you seriously believe I'll just sit by and let anyone hurt her? I took every precaution possible to ensure she was safe!"

"Evidently not!" Oscar shouts, pushing himself up to his feet and advancing toward Dean. "If you had, she wouldn't be in the line of fire of some lunatic mob leader out for your head, now, would she? Whether you like it or not—not only Jeyla, but DJ as well—are collateral now. They are mere pawns caught in the crossfire of your reckless actions."

"Reckless actions?" Dean hisses, his tone ireful. "I was doing my fucking job! What the fuck do you think I've been doing this whole time? You think I played dead for my fucking health? No, I did it all for her and for all of you. To ensure you were all safe."

"Yeah, you did a hell of a fucking job by the looks of it."

My fingers tremble against my temples as I try to steady my racing thoughts. The sound of the boys' shouting match echoes through the kitchen, drowning out any rationality. Just hours ago, Dean was dead and now he's standing in my kitchen bickering with his brother, all while I'm apparently somehow by association caught in the crosshairs of his adversaries.

A knot forms deep in my stomach as the gravity of the situation starts to sink in. While the two of them continue to argue I push my chair back and walk out of the kitchen. I don't have the mental capability to deal with this on top of everything else.

Despite the bustling commotion downstairs, DJ remains sound asleep in his nursery. His small chest rises and falls with each steady breath, a peaceful expression on his cherubic face. Like his father, he is a deep sleeper, a trait that I am grateful for in moments like these. As I enter my bedroom and collapse onto the plush comfort of my bed, my anxiety begins to consume me. The weight of fear settles heavily on my chest, threatening to paralyze me at any moment. Oscar's words of DJ and I being collateral hit me harder than anything else. Not for myself, but the thought of something happening to DJ is harrowing. I can only hope that Dean's enemies aren't aware that DJ is his son. If they've been watching me, they might have assumed that I had a kid with Oscar? It's possible, right?

While my mind runs amuck, invoking the absolute worst-case scenarios I don't hear the bedroom door behind me creak open and Dean walk in. "JJ?"

"Do they know about DJ?" I ask as he closes the door behind him and walks further into the bedroom.

"I don't know," Dean answers with a sigh as he leans against the wardrobe. I look up at him and Dean walks over and perches down in front of me. "I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you, I promise." Dean avows, lifting his hand to brush away the tears that spill over and roll down my cheeks. "That's why I came back, JJ. I have arranged for you and DJ to be taken to a secure location until the threat is dealt with."

My eyes search his and I shake my head. "What does that mean?" I whisper. "What about you? You'll be coming with us, right?" Dean shakes his head, a woeful look in his eyes.

"No, baby," Dean's voice is low and urgent. "You'll be taken by a team of highly trained security personnel to a safe house that is completely off the grid. It's heavily guarded with round-the-clock protection, and for your own safety, not even I will be told your location."

My heart races as I try to process his words. A safe house? Off the grid? Heavily guarded? What the hell is he talking about? I can't just pack up and leave on a moment's notice.

Dean's dark brows furrow in concern as he continues, "We need to leave as soon as possible." His dark brows furrow in a deep v as he looks back at me intently. "I need you to pack a bag for you and DJ, only the essentials. Everything else you may need will be provided for you." I shake my head in disbelief, unable to comprehend what is happening. But Dean's expression remains serious and determined.

"No," I finally speak up, shaking my head again. Dean's eyes widen in surprise.

"What do you mean, no?" he replies, his tone tinged with both confusion and frustration.

I draw in a deep breath before speaking, trying to steady my trembling hands. I take a deep breath before speaking again. "I can't just leave everything behind and run away. We have a life here, Dean. What about my family, your family, Oz?" Dean sighs and reaches for my hands, lifting them to his lips as he gazes into my eyes.

"JJ, listen to me. Right now, you're the one with a target on your back. Viktor knows you're the only chink in my armour. The only way he's going to draw me out is if he threatens you. I know this is a lot to process in a short span of time and I'm so sorry baby, I truly am," he speaks softly, "but I need you to trust me and not fight me on this. It's the only way I can ensure your safety and DJ's while I go and deal with this mess."

His words hit me like a slap across the face by a sack full of bricks. Deal with this mess? If I know Dean, that means he's planning on walking straight into danger. Is he planning to turn himself over to Viktor to take the heat off me and DJ? Has he lost his goddamn mind?

My heart clenches painfully at the possibility of losing him all over again. Why? Why is this happening. Why bring him back into my life just to take him all over again. I can't bear to suffer the pain of losing him again. I won't survive it.

"No," I whisper, closing my eyes. "I won't just let you go off and die to protect me, Dean, I can't."

"Jeyla—"

"No! Dean, stop!" I snap, pulling away from him I stand up and start pacing the length of the bedroom. "There must be another way because I can't face the reality of losing you all over again."

Dean rises from his seat with a heavy sigh, his hand rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. I can see the concern and exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "JJ, I know?—"

"No, you don't know!" I shout, whirling around to face him. My voice trembles with emotion and my hands shake with rage. "You can't even begin to fathom the hell I have been through this past year." Dean watches me, his expression remorseful but also tinged with frustration. "I lost you, Dean. We got married and two months later I lost you!" I shriek, my eyes blazing as I glare at him. "Do you have any idea what that did to me?" Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I shove him away when he takes a step towards me. "And now you want to put me through that hell all over again. Wasn't once enough for you? You want to break what little I have left inside of me?" My voice breaks on a sob as I continue to rant. Spewing every word and every bit of devastation I have suffered at him all at once. "I would rather take a bullet to the head than go through another minute of the pain I felt after losing you." My fists clench at my sides and when Dean reaches for me, I start pounding them against his chest with each word that escapes me. "A part of me died right alongside of you." He stands still, taking every blow without flinching until my legs give out and I collapse into him, crying hysterically. "I can't do it all over again, please," I wail, my body shaking in his arms. He wraps his strong arms around me and holds me close, whispering soothing words in my ear.

"I'm sorry baby," he murmurs. "Everything I did, I did to protect you, I swear." His words only make me cry harder, knowing that he truly believes it was all for my own good. "You think I didn't suffer? Do you think you wasn't on my goddamn mind every second of every day?" Dean explains, pressing his forehead to mine. "I know how devastated you were, I was too, because all I wanted was to come back home to you."

"Why didn't you?" I cry. "One phone call, one small sign that you were alive was all it would have taken, and I would have come running to wherever you were."

"I know, baby, I know, but that's not the life I wanted for you, for us. I couldn't make any contact with anyone from my old life. And when I finally made it to Italy and I got a phone the first thing I did was call you, even if it was to just hear your voice."

I gasp, recalling all the nuisance phone calls I would get daily. "Oh God, all of those phone calls were you?" Dean nods, biting down on his lower lip and lowering his eyes from mine.

"Just hearing your voice or the way you would softly breathe down the phone was enough to keep me sane." Dean pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me tightly. I melt into him and continue to sob. "Every day I had to live with the thought of having to live my life without you. Knowing you will one day move on and fall in love with someone else and it drove me fucking crazy, Jeyla." His words are muffled against my hair as he whispers soothingly. He peppers kisses on my temple, leaving a trail of warmth wherever his lips touch. "Most days, part of me wished that I had died, because knowing you were out there living on without me killed me, JJ," he confesses, drawing his head back to look down into my eyes. "I couldn't bear the thought of these beautiful eyes looking at another in the same way they used to look at me." A slow, shaky breath passes through my lips when he inches closer while he continues to speak to me in a quiet manner. "Or someone else kissing these lips when they should be kissing me ." My eyes close when his lips brush against mine with the barest touch with every deliberate word. "And whispering how much you hate me ." As disordered as my head is at the moment, my body immediately recognizes Dean's touch and responds like no time has passed at all.

A fire ignites deep within me at his touch, stirring up all the intense emotions that only Dean can evoke in me. Our kiss starts slow and tender, but quickly becomes passionate as he lifts me up and presses me against the wardrobe. I want to surrender to him completely, but there's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that we shouldn't be doing this. As much as I need him, I know there are still unresolved issues, too many unspoken words between us that can't be ignored.

"Dean," I whimper, my hands gripping his shoulders as his kisses trail down my chest. The familiar scent of his cologne surrounds me, making it even harder to resist this untameable pull towards him. I've spent so many nights in this bed— our bed —dreaming of this moment. Aching for his touch, whether it be us making love or fucking amid a heated argument.

But now, as his hands slip under my shirt and inch closer to my breasts, I know I have to stop. "Hey, come back to me, baby," Dean rasps, sensing that I'm distracted.

With a heavy heart, I draw myself away from him to take a breath and attempt to conjure up even a speck of rationality. "Dean, wait, I... I can't."

Instantly, Dean's eyes flicker open and meet mine. At first, they hold a mixture of surprise and desire, but then they soften in understanding. He nods slowly, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of my face. "A few hours ago, you were dead, and now you're here and you're kissing me..." I sigh, pressing my head back against the wardrobe and lick my lips. "It's all just… too much right now and I'm feeling really overwhelmed. I think I need some space to try and get my head straight."

Dean frowns, sets me back down on my feet and takes a step back, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, of course." I break eye contact with him and fix my gaze on the floor while I chew on my lip. "Uh, would you mind if I take a shower?"

"Oh, no, of course not." I answer and step away from the wardrobe. "Everything is where you left it." Dean smiles and licks his lips.

"You kept my stuff?"

"Of course, I couldn't bring myself to move anything. Except for your Arsenal football shirt. I wear that to bed," I admit sheepishly and Dean's smile widens into a grin.

"Good," he drawls, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he reaches up and pulls his hoodie off from the back of his neck in that effortless, yet undeniably sexy way that men do. The fabric glides over his broad shoulders and falls to the floor with a soft thud. I swallow thickly, my eyes practically glued to his form as Dean takes a step toward me, takes hold of my chin and gently tips my head back so he can stare into my eyes. A flicker of something passes between us before he speaks again. "I always thought it looked far better on you anyway," he asserts, a hint of admiration evident in his voice. Leaning in, he brushes his nose against mine in a tender gesture before walking off towards the bathroom, leaving me watching after him with a mix of emotions swirling inside me. He moves with a quiet confidence, each step fluid and purposeful, making it impossible to look away.

After Dean exits the bedroom, I rake my fingers through my tousled hair and let out a quiet whimper of frustration. I could honestly just tear my hair right out from the roots. Anything to distract me from the tumultuous emotions whirring inside me. Shaking my head I leave the bedroom to go and check in on DJ who is surprisingly still asleep even through all the commotion. Well, it is almost ten o'clock and he's often down for the night by nine.

Fuck me, I'm a mess and I'm in desperate need of a drink.

With that thought in mind, I make my way downstairs, each step a little victory against the chaos inside me. As I reach the dining room, I find Oscar hunched over the table, his gaze locked onto a bottle of beer. The turmoil brewing within me is reflected in the furrowed lines on his face, an unsettling mirror of my own distress.

A misstep sends a jolt of pain through my injured foot, and I let out an involuntary hiss. The sound breaks through Oscar's reverie, drawing his attention away from whatever dark thoughts he was entertaining—not that it would be too difficult to guess.

"You okay?" Oscar asks, concern lacing his voice as he leans forward to inspect my foot. His eyes follow me as I hobble to the table and sink into a chair with a weary sigh.

"If you're asking about my foot, the answer is yes. If you're asking about me and my current state of mind , I think you can already guess the answer to that one."

Oscar's reaction is almost imperceptible—a mute nod—before he returns to his intense scrutiny of the half-empty beer bottle. Seeing him so dejected tears at my heartstrings. In this moment of shared silence, I wonder if he despises me as much as I loathe myself right now. Even though we both agreed nothing could ever happen between us, our feelings linger like shadows in the background.

Even though I keep telling myself that these lingering emotions don't matter—they do. They matter because if they didn't, I wouldn't ever hesitate to be with Dean and there would be no sense of betrayal gnawing at my conscience over Oscar.

Today should be a day of joy for all of us—Dean is alive and back home—yet here we are, prisoners to our own regrets and unspoken desires. I can't fucking stand the silence between us.

"Oskie…" Upon hearing his name Oscar's brown eyes lift from the bottle and he looks at me.

"I know," Oscar answers, already anticipating what I'm about to say. "I…" he starts, but sighs and rubs his forehead in agitation. "I feel like a real piece of shit."

I frown, "What, why?"

"My brother is back from the dead, I should be happy right now, but when I saw him standing there with you and DJ… the first emotion I felt was envy and resentment. What does that say about me as his older brother?"

Shaking my head, I reach out to touch his hand in comfort. But he jerks it away as if my touch scalded him and sits back in his seat. Hurt fills me at his sudden distance and I pull my hand back, setting it gently in my lap.

"The same thing it says about me as his wife," I express with a resigned sigh. "I should have been overjoyed when I saw him standing at my door, but in the back of my mind all I kept thinking about is what happened between us and how he would feel if he ever found out. So, don't sweat it, you're not alone in your guilt over what happened. At least you're not stuck in the middle of two brothers constantly feeling like you're betraying one by being with the other." I utter as I go to hoist myself up from the chair and begin to hobble towards the kitchen exit when I hear the sound of Oscar rising from his seat as well.

"No, I'm just stuck feeling like I'm betraying my brother with the not-so-platonic feelings I have for his wife." His words hang heavy in the air, echoing through my mind like a hammer hitting an anvil. My feet halt and refuse to move, paralyzed by the weight of his confession. Closing my eyes, I press my molars together and try to calm the racing pulse in my chest. "I'm riddled with shame over the indecent thoughts I have at night while I'm in bed thinking about all the uncouth things I would do to her."

Oh, sweet Lord.