Under His Protection

Chapter 37: Foundations

Taylor woke up slowly, her body nestled against the warmth of Travis's chest. The soft morning light slipped through the curtains, painting the room in streaks of gold. For the first time in days, she felt safe—like the world outside couldn't touch her, no matter how hard it tried.

Travis's arm tightened instinctively around her waist as she shifted, pulling her closer.

"You're awake," his voice rumbled softly, sleep still clinging to it.

Taylor turned in his arms to face him. "Barely," she teased, her lips curling into a small smile.

Travis brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. His gaze searched hers, as if needing the reassurance that she was still there, still safe. "I hate waking up and not seeing you next to me. Don't ever do that again."

She sighed, leaning into his touch. "I promise. You're stuck with me, Kelce."

"Damn right I am," he whispered before pressing his lips to her forehead.

The smell of breakfast soon filled the house. Travis stood at the stove, flipping pancakes like it was second nature. Taylor sat at the kitchen island, sipping her tea and watching him, a soft smile on her lips.

"I didn't know the great Travis Kelce could cook," she teased, propping her chin on her hand.

Travis glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "I have layers, Angel. You haven't seen half of 'em yet."

She laughed lightly, the sound soft but real, and for a moment, it felt like everything outside their compound didn't exist. No Santino. No danger. Just them.

But that feeling shattered when Patrick Mahomes walked in, his phone in hand, his face deadly serious. "We've got a problem."

The shift in energy was immediate. Travis turned off the stove, his jaw clenching as he wiped his hands on a towel.

"What happened?"

Patrick placed his phone on the counter, sliding it toward them. On the screen was a grainy photo of Santino, sitting in a darkened room, surrounded by men—he looked too relaxed, too confident.

"This was taken last night," Patrick said. "He's regrouping. Gathering his men. Whatever he's planning, it's bigger than we thought."

Taylor's heart dropped, but she stayed quiet, watching Travis for a reaction.

Travis stared at the photo for a long moment before nodding, his face stone-cold. "Let him regroup. Let him plan. It won't matter. We'll always be two steps ahead."

Ross walked in next, a file in hand. "Boss, I've got the intel you asked for—properties we can lock down, places Santino might try to hit. We're closing off every entrance, every weak point."

Travis glanced at Taylor, his expression softening just slightly. "I need you and your mom on complete lockdown for the next couple days. You're staying here with me. No more running off in the middle of the night, got it?"

Taylor rolled her eyes playfully. "I said I was sorry."

Travis smirked, pulling her closer and kissing the side of her head. "I mean it, Angel. I can't lose you."

The afternoon turned into a blur of meetings and plans. Patrick and Ross brought in maps of the city, marking out weak spots and potential threats. Travis moved with purpose, commanding the room without ever raising his voice. Taylor watched him from the corner, her admiration growing with every passing moment.

"You really are good at this," she said later, once the meetings wrapped up.

Travis looked up from his paperwork, his brow raised. "At what?"

"Running things. Keeping us all safe."

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I didn't ask for this life, but I'll do whatever it takes to protect what's mine. You. The boys. All of it."

Taylor crossed the room, perching herself on the edge of his desk. "Well, you're not doing it alone. I'm here, too. You know that, right?"

Travis looked at her for a long moment, his gaze intense. "Yeah, Angel. I know."

The night came quickly, and for once, the house was calm. Travis and Taylor sat on the couch, curled up under a blanket as an old movie played in the background. Taylor's mother had already gone to bed, leaving them alone in the quiet.

"You ever think about what life's going to look like after all of this?" Taylor asked softly, her head resting on his shoulder.

Travis exhaled, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. "All the time. I think about you and me, sitting in some big backyard, watching the boys play. No guns, no threats. Just peace."

Taylor smiled softly. "That sounds perfect."

"It will be," he promised, pressing a kiss to her hair.

The following morning, Travis stood in the doorway of the nursery they'd started putting together. The walls were painted a soft gray, the beginnings of cribs waiting to be assembled. He leaned against the doorframe, lost in thought.

Taylor walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What are you thinking about?"

He covered her hands with his own, his voice quiet. "I want them to have everything I never had. A real home. A real family. That's all I care about."

"You're already giving them that, Travis," Taylor said softly. "You're giving them you."

Travis turned, cupping her face in his hands. "And you're giving them you. That's the most important part."

She smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. "We're going to be okay."

"Damn right we are."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the future no longer felt uncertain. For the first time, they could see it—the life they were building, the love they were fighting for. It wouldn't be easy, but they'd face it together.

They always would.