Under His Protection

Chapter 24: A Test of Faith

The safehouse felt eerily quiet after Travis, Patrick, and Ross left. Taylor paced the living room, her fingers nervously twisting the chain of her necklace. The memory of Travis's kiss and his promise to return lingered, but the weight of the uncertainty gnawed at her.

She wasn't naive—she knew the risks of his world. She also knew that despite his promises, there were no guarantees.

With a frustrated sigh, she sank onto the couch, grabbing her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen before she finally gave in and called Brittany, Patrick's wife.

"Taylor?" Brittany's cheerful voice was a welcome distraction.

"Hey, Britt. Are you busy?"

"Not at all. What's up?"

Taylor hesitated, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. "Do you ever... worry? About Patrick, I mean. When he's out on jobs like this?"

There was a brief pause before Brittany replied, her tone softer. "Every time. But I trust him. And I trust that he's doing everything he can to come back to me."

"How do you handle it?" Taylor asked, her voice quieter now.

Brittany laughed gently. "Wine helps. So does reminding myself that Patrick's a lot tougher than he looks. And honestly? Having people to talk to makes a difference. You're not alone in this, Taylor."

The reassurance warmed her, and she managed a small smile. "Thanks, Britt. I needed that."

"Anytime. And remember, you're stronger than you think. Travis knows that, too."

Taylor hung up feeling slightly lighter, but the unease still lingered. She busied herself around the safehouse, cleaning and organizing just to keep her mind occupied. Hours passed, and the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, and she lunged for it, hoping for news.

It was a text from Travis:
"We're fine. Wrapping up. Be back soon."

She exhaled a shaky breath, relief washing over her. But something about the message felt... off. Travis's usual brevity was there, but the tone didn't feel like him.

Her instincts prickled with unease.

Before she could dwell on it, headlights flashed through the front window, and the sound of a car pulling up outside reached her ears. Her heart raced as she approached the door, her hand hovering over the knob.

"Taylor, it's me," Travis's voice called out from the other side.

She hesitated for only a moment before unlocking the door and swinging it open. Travis stepped inside, his face shadowed but calm.

"You're back," she said, relief flooding her voice.

"Yeah," he replied, his gaze sweeping over her. "Everything went smoothly. Santino's shipment is gone. He won't be happy about it."

Taylor frowned, her unease growing. Something about his demeanor was... wrong.

"You okay?" she asked cautiously.

Travis smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Angel. Just tired."

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her cheek, but the touch felt unfamiliar—too careful, too measured.

And then it hit her.

This wasn't Travis.

The realization made her heart pound, but she forced herself to stay calm. She needed to play along until she could figure out what was going on.

"Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, stepping back toward the living room.

He followed, his movements fluid but slightly unnatural. Taylor's mind raced as she tried to piece together the situation. If this man wasn't Travis, then where was he? And how had someone managed to get this close to her?

As they entered the living room, Taylor glanced toward the kitchen where a small knife rested on the counter. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

She turned back to the man, forcing a smile. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?"

"No need," he said smoothly, his eyes watching her every move.

Taylor's stomach twisted. Whoever this was, they weren't here to talk.