Page 3 of My Girl to Protect
Another loud bang makes me flinch.
Her voice sharpens. “Cammi, what was that?”
“Rick,” I choke. “He’s—he’s outside my door.”
Silence. Another slam shakes the frame.
Millie inhales sharply. “Okay. Listen to me,” she says, voice calm and steady now. “Wilder and I are coming to get you. Pack a bag. You’re coming toWilderHouse.” She ends the call.
Hope flickers somewhere deep inside me. Idon’t hesitate and instantly start stuffing a small duffel bag with clothes. Minutes later, voices echo faintly through the thin apartment walls. A sudden wave of relief crashes through me so hard my eyes sting again.Thank God, they’re here.
I hear Rick’s protest and anger. Through the door, I hear Wilder, “You need to step away from that door.”
Rick scoffs. “This ain’t your business.”
The sound that follows makes me jump. A hard thud. A grunt. A choked curse from Rick. I rush to my bedroom door, pressing my ear against it.
“Touch her again,” Wilder says, “and I won’t stop at just throwing you out. Now get the fuck out”
Silence stretches for a second. Then the front door slams so hard the walls shake. The next second, I open my door, bag in hand. I find Millie right outside my room. The moment she sees me, she wraps me in a tight hug.
“Oh, honey.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, though my voice wobbles.
Behind her, Wilder stands in the living room near the front door. “You alright?” he asks.
I nod quickly, letting go of Millie. “Yes, and I’m ready to leave.”
Wilder takes the duffel bag off my hands while Millie slips her hand in mine and tugs. “Let’s go.”
I take one last look around the apartment. Then, a quick glance toward my mother’s room. I should feel guilty. I should be remorseful about leaving her alone. I’m not. She wouldn’t look back if the tables were turned. So, why should I?
The ride to Wilder House is filled with my jumbled thoughts and Millie’s assuring words and concerned glances.
“Here we are,” Millie says softly.
“Guys,” I say in the quiet car. “I don’t think I can stay here. I mean, I appreciate your help with Rick, getting me away, but I—I don’t have any money for rent. I don’t want to be a burden, and—”
“You’re not a burden,” Millie cuts in. “You’re my friend.”
Wilder clears his throat. “And you don’t need to pay rent right now. There’s a furnished apartment open. When you’ve got the money, you can pay then.” He says it like it’s already settled, the way I’m learning he says most things. Millie’s told me enough about the man who runs Wilder House to know he doesn’t offer twice.
I stare at them both, going teary all over again. “Really? Thank you.”
For the first time in what feels like years, my chest loosens. Maybethis place could finally be home.
Chapter One
Noah
The heat hits first—the kind that comes off open fire. It rolls across the sand in waves, thick and suffocating, carrying the sharp bite of smoke and burning metal.
My boots grind against gravel as I move forward, rifle tight in my hands, every muscle locked into the kind of alertness that never really leaves you once you’ve been out here long enough.
“Clear left,” someone says through the comm.
My gaze sweeps the broken structure ahead of us. Windows blown out. Walls cracked. Every shadow a possible threat.
