Protecting Riley

The first time I met Riley Monroe, she answered the door holding a knife. I should've taken that as my cue to mind my own damn business. But I didn't. Something about her-those sharp eyes, that fake smile hiding too much-told me she was running from something. And when I saw the fear she tried to hide, I knew I couldn't walk away. At first, I thought it would be simple. Figure out who was threatening her, neutralize the danger, and move on. But nothing about Riley was simple. She kept her secrets locked up tight, and the more I pushed, the more I realized she wasn't just being stalked-she was being hunted. The man after her wasn't just some creep. He was methodical, dangerous, and desperate. Every step he took to get closer to her, I matched, determined to stay ahead of him. But somewhere along the way, keeping her safe stopped being about duty. It became personal. Too personal.She didn't want to trust me, didn't want to let me in, but I wasn't giving her a choice. Protecting Riley meant more than guarding her life-it meant facing my own scars and the ghosts that kept me up at night. Because this isn't just about saving her. It's about saving us both before it's too late. And I'll be damned if I let her down.