Jackson's POV
My first week in the compound was a blur of high-stakes logistics and constant, low-grade confusion. Belinda's immediate, cold efficiency—her lack of emotional collapse—left me perpetually off-balance. I was waiting for the reckoning …she was planning dinner menus.
My own primary focus, beyond securing the perimeter, was making this fortress a home—a real sanctuary, not just a holding cell.
Day 1-7: Building the Den. I had followed through on the order for the separate penthouse, giving her the physical space I thought she needed to manage her complex emotions. But I found myself perpetually drawn to her presence. I spent my days designing the security matrix, and my evenings ensuring her comfort. I personally supervised the unpacking and arrangement of her new suite.
My greatest source of comfort was the Inventory. I checked the cupboards daily: a full range of sanitary pads and high-grade painkillers, the loose cotton clothing, the gourmet bottled water. I was confirming my quiet acts of protection. When I saw the items used, I felt a deep, wrenching satisfaction. It was the only proof I had that I was still fulfilling the role of protector, even after my crime.
The Nightly Pull. She resisted the master suite for two nights, sleeping alone in her penthouse. On the third night, after the 'data drone' had returned, she appeared silently in the master doorway, simply walking toward the bed. She didn't offer an explanation. She just curled into my side, her cold skin radiating a need I couldn't deny. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her hair. It was a non-verbal truce, a physical forgiveness more potent than any words.
The Strategic Disconnect. I spent hours trying to crack her new strategy. Why the ban on digital data transfer? Why the obsession with unfiltered air? She was forcing a slowness on the operation that went against every instinct I had. But the results were undeniable: the General was getting static, forcing him to overplay his hand and commit to slow, physical tracking.
On the seventh day, I watched her through the security feeds, sitting on the deck, her bare feet resting on the stone, staring out at the vast ocean. She was reading a book—a massive volume on local marine biology…not an intelligence file.
I walked out to join her, carrying two glasses of freshly squeezed juice.
"You look relaxed," I said, sitting beside her. It was the greatest victory I could claim.
She closed the book, turning to me. "I am secure, nunus. And secure means calm." I love when she calls me that. It makes me feel all mushy inside. Only she can do that.
She reached out, her fingers tracing the sharp line of my jaw, the same spot I had touched on her in the observatory. "Your father's world is in the past. This is the future. Now, tell me the next move. We need to send the General a signal."
I looked from her serene face to the turbulent, magnificent ocean. I had created the fortress and she had furnished it with peace. I still didn't understand the depth of her forgiveness, but I understood the absolute clarity of her intent. She was demanding our safety.
"The next move," I agreed, taking her hand. "We tell him we're not just running. We're fighting back. We make him think we have his ledgers. We send him a ghost courier."
We toasted to that but she didn't drink from her glass. She loves wine so I assumed maybe she just didn't like this brand.
Belinda's POV
"Not a fan of the vintage?" he asked, already dismissing the detail.
"Too sweet," I lied easily, placing the glass on the railing, untouched. "I've gone strictly to water. Full system optimization."
He didn't press the issue, nodding with strategic approval. "Redundancy in health. Smart." He misinterpreted the refusal as part of the 'wellness retreat' cover, completely unaware it was the first, quiet act of the mother I was becoming.
The next day, Jay was entirely consumed with my plan. He was a machine of focused action, running the coastal scans, setting up detection grids, and sending Tyrone to vet the local supply driver's DNA. He barely left the secure vault.
This was my window. I needed my inner circle.
I took the secure comms line and initiated an untraceable, triple-encrypted call to the United States.
"Rosline. Ronda. Pack your bags," I commanded, using the cold, professional tone they instantly recognized. "You're coming to the sanctuary. No questions. You will be arriving as my 'wellness consultants.' You fly commercial, first class, under the cover identity I'm sending you now. You are not to speak about me, our past, or your jobs until you are inside the compound."
They agreed instantly. They were my only true family…my closest friends and former tactical partners. They knew that when I called with this level of authority, the situation was serious.
Not a moment too soon, my two trusted assets arrived, looking sun-kissed and slightly bewildered by the intense security screening at the compound's gate.
I met them in the master suite's dedicated lounge. Jay was still downstairs, distracted by a new thermal spike Tyrone had found off the coast.
"Welcome to Cape Town," I said, closing the door and pouring them both a glass of bottled water.
"Belinda, what the hell is this place?" Rosline whispered, taking in the panoramic ocean view. "And why the armed guards and the biometric scan just to use the bathroom?"
"And why are you wearing black silk pajamas at noon?" Ronda added, her arms crossed.
"Also…why Tf are you offering us water? Let's pop some bottles lady! We haven't seen you in a bit and we need to celebrate my engagement! Where's your portable bar? You always have one…but I don't see it…" Rosline chimes in.
I rolled my eyes and sat down, placing my water glass on the table. The moment was here.
"The war is over," I began, my voice softer now, shedding the tactical edge. "And it's just begun. I have found my sanctuary. I have found my peace. And I need you two to be very calm once I tell you what I'm about to tell you..."
I paused, reaching my hands up and resting them on my lower abdomen.
"I'm pregnant," I whispered, the words trembling slightly. "I'm having Jackson's baby."
The silence that followed was broken only by Rosline's sharp, surprised intake of breath and Ronda's slow, astonished smile.
"A baby?" Rosline finally managed, her voice laced with shock. "You're building a nursery, not a command center?"
They shrieked at the same time and nearly tackled the baby out of me.
"I'm building both," I corrected trying to catch my breath from laughter. "And no one, especially Jackson, can know yet. He's already consumed with protection. If he knows about the baby, his focus will fracture. He needs to think the only asset at risk is me. You two are here to help me maintain the secrecy and the physical defenses until the General is neutralized."
Ronda stepped forward, pulling me into a fierce, tender embrace. "You crazy, brilliant woman," she murmured. "We're in. What's the mission?"
"Mission one," I replied, hugging her back, feeling the sudden, overwhelming relief of sharing the burden. "Monitor my dietary intake, vet all new supplies, and devise a plan to subtly shift Jackson's focus away from my body and onto his tactical success. And no more coffee."
Jackson's POV
My mind was a coiled spring, focused entirely on the thermal signature off the coast. I was certain the General was coming. I was so consumed by the mission that I barely registered the arrival of Belinda's cousins, accepting them immediately as part of the 'eccentric billionaire' cover.
I spent the afternoon running the final diagnostic checks on the sub-surface detection grid. The work was intense, but my mind was perpetually pulled toward the South Wing—specifically, toward the woman who was turning a fortress into a home.
I needed to see her, to touch her, to reaffirm the tether of our sanity. But I couldn't approach her with the General looming. I needed a distraction, something pure, something outside the realm of strategy and crime.
I did what I always did. I researched her. Not her threat profile or her father's ledgers, but her. I pulled old, encrypted data from the initial file I'd built on her…the file that listed her simple, human preferences.
My eyes stopped on a single, bolded entry: Sunflowers. Loves sunflowers more than any other flower on the planet. Calls them 'brave.'
A small, genuine smile touched my lips. Brave. The perfect flower for her.
I called Tyrone, giving him the most dangerous, yet most fulfilling, assignment of his week.
"I need you to find every available sunflower in Cape Town," I commanded, my voice low and excited. "I want them flown to the compound by separate courier, delivered in a discreet, refrigerated van. I want enough to line the entire viewing deck. And then I need you to secure a high-quality projector and screen for the deck. Tonight, we're having an outdoor movie date."
I didn't care about the security risk. I needed to remind her that beneath the strategist, I was the man who had promised her peace.
That evening, the viewing deck was transformed. The security team was on high alert, but the entire railing was lined with hundreds of impossibly cheerful, golden-yellow sunflowers. The enormous outdoor screen was set up, ready to play some impossibly mundane, heartwarming film.
I put on a comfortable shirt and walked to the lounge to find Belinda. She was there with Rosline and Ronda, all three women deep in hushed conversation…likely discussing new surveillance techniques or how much men deserve to die. I get it honestly.
"Ladies," I announced, clapping my hands. "The vault is locked down. The coastal grid is active. The General can wait. Tonight, we rest."
I led my beautiful girl outside to see the good boy I've been for her during the day.
I looked at Bel, waiting for her reaction.
Her eyes, usually so sharp and analytical, softened as they took in the sunflowers. The sight of them seemed to chip away at the steel she wore, revealing a flash of the woman I loved…the one who needed bravery, not just bullets.
"Sunflowers," she breathed, a genuine, beautiful smile finally breaking through her control. "They're beautiful, nunus oh my..."
"I did my research," I admitted, reaching for her hand. "Come on. The show starts now."
I knew I was fighting for her love with a softer weapon now. And as I led her out to the deck, past the hundreds of brave, yellow flowers, I felt a new sense of purpose: The General could have his ghost courier. I had the sunflowers, the sanctuary, and the woman who I was consumed with. I just didn't know how big that future was yet.
Liam told me he suspects we're getting hit tomorrow so it was important i gave her a day like this before we both shoot everyone in our path tomorrow.