Chapter 3
Riley's POV
Dad was dead.
Ten years ago, my only family member got blown to pieces on some godforsaken battlefield in Afghanistan.
I sat on the living room floor clutching his portrait, tears streaming down my face in numb silence.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
The door rattled under violent pounding.
"Open up! Riley! We know you're in there!" a gravelly male voice roared.
I hugged Dad's photo tighter and curled up behind the couch. These were Dad's distant cousins, vultures who'd driven all the way from Houston. They'd been circling since the funeral ended.
The door got kicked in.
Three stinking-drunk men burst through, greed flashing in their eyes.
"Little bitch, still trying to hide?" The fat one wiped his mouth. "Your dad's dead—time to pay up what he owed us!"
"What money?" I clutched Dad's photo protectively. "My father never owed you anything!"
"Nothing?" The tall, skinny one sneered. "He borrowed fifty grand from us before shipping out, said he was gonna bring honor to the family name. Now he's dead, that insurance money is OURS!"
"You're LYING!" I screamed hysterically. "My dad never borrowed money from you!"
"Little brat!" Fatty's hand cracked across my face, explosive pain blooming instantly. "How much did the government give you? Two hundred grand? Three hundred?"
I clutched my swelling cheek as tears poured out. "I... I don't know..."
"Don't know?" Skinny leered closer. "Then we'll find it ourselves!"
They started tearing the place apart, smashing everything we owned. Dad's medals scattered across the floor, my textbooks ripped to shreds.
"NO!" I lunged forward to stop them. "Those are my dad's things!"
Fatty backhanded me again, harder this time. I crashed to the floor, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.
"This bitch is nothing but trouble!" Skinny kicked me in the ribs. "Santos never should've had this worthless..."
"Stop."
A low voice cut through from the doorway.
I looked up to see a tall figure silhouetted in the broken doorframe. Blonde hair, blue eyes, crisp military uniform. Ribbons and medals gleamed on his chest.
"Who the FUCK are you?" Fatty demanded, but his voice was already shaking.
The stranger didn't answer. He just walked into the room, surveyed the destruction, then looked at my bloodied face.
Something flashed in his eyes.
Rage.
"Get out." His voice was ice-cold.
"Says who? This is family business..." Skinny tried to argue.
The man moved suddenly, his fist slamming into Skinny's nose.
"ARGH!" Blood sprayed everywhere.
Fatty tried to fight back. The stranger grabbed his shirt collar and drove his knee hard into his ribs. The sick crack of breaking bones filled the room.
"Jesus..." Fatty curled up moaning.
The third one tried to run. He didn't make it to the door before getting kicked down.
"If I ever see you near her again," the stranger stood over the three groaning men, "you'll learn what real pain feels like."
They scrambled up and stumbled away, pushing and shoving each other in their panic to escape.
I was still sitting on the floor, clutching Dad's broken picture frame, shaking uncontrollably.
The man knelt down and gently touched my swollen cheek. "I'm Sergeant Colt Brennan."
"Brennan?" I choked out his name.
"Your father saved my life," he said, guilt heavy in his voice. "Three weeks ago. Kandahar Province, Afghanistan. When the explosion hit, Sergeant Santos pushed me out of the way."
I stared at him in shock. So that's how...
"Those shrapnel pieces would've killed me," Colt continued. "But your father used his own body to shield me from the blast. Before he died, he made me promise him something."
"What... what promise?"
"To take care of his only daughter." His hand covered mine as I gripped the frame. His hand was warm and large, completely enveloping my trembling fists. "I'll take care of you for life. This is my promise to your father. You'll never be alone again."
In that moment, I thought God had heard my prayers.
Tears poured out like a broken dam. I couldn't hold back anymore and collapsed against his broad chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'll protect you," he stroked my hair gently. "Forever."
Colt kept his word. That same day, a black Cadillac pulled up outside the slums.
"Pack your things, Riley. Time to move to your new home."
The new home was one of Texas's most luxurious estates. Just the swimming pool was bigger than our entire old apartment.
But what moved me most wasn't the luxury—it was Colt's devoted care. He'd sit by my bed when nightmares woke me, stroking my hair. He'd remember I hated carrots and have the chef remake dinner. He'd stay up all night when I had fever, and when I casually mentioned "missing the tacos from that Mexican place downstairs," he'd magically recreate the exact same taste the next day.
"Your father wanted you to become a lady." On my first day of school, he gently adjusted my uniform collar. "I'll protect you from any harm."
Austin's most expensive private girls' school—designer uniforms, marble hallways, classmates driving Porsches to school. This slum kid was suddenly thrust into a golden world.
I accepted everything he arranged for me. French lessons, piano, social etiquette... whatever he wanted, I complied without complaint.
Only one thing I wouldn't compromise on.
"I want to learn motorcycle customization."
"No." He refused without thinking. "Too dangerous. Not suitable for girls."
"Please, Colt." I grabbed his arm, stubborn determination in my eyes. "Dad used to work on bikes too, right? You said he was talented."
"Riley..." He frowned. "The garage is full of sharp tools. If you got hurt—"
"How could I get hurt with you there?" I looked up at him, my voice carrying unshakeable resolve. "This is the only thing I want."
He was quiet for a long time, finally surrendering to my expectant gaze.
"Fine. But you must follow my rules exactly. No dangerous moves."
"I swear!" I threw myself into his arms excitedly.
Those late nights in the garage, he patiently taught me every part's name, guided my hands with the wrench, and when my face got covered in grease, he'd gently clean it off with a towel.
I didn't know that in those tender moments, he was silently shaping me—sculpting me into his vision of perfection.
And I had already completely fallen for this devoted care.
The summer I turned eighteen, Colt threw me a grand coming-of-age party, inviting half of Texas high society. I wore the white off-shoulder gown he'd chosen, displayed like a doll for everyone's admiration.
"Our little Riley is all grown up!" guests gushed. "Colt is such an amazing guardian!"
Guardian.
Not brother, not friend, and certainly not...
As the party wound down, I gathered my courage.
The garden was bathed in moonlight, champagne making me dizzy. I walked toward him, my heart pounding like it might explode.
"Colt, I need to tell you something."
He turned around—still that handsome face, just more mature lines than two years ago.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"I love you, Colt." I found my courage. "Not gratitude, not dependency—LOVE. I'm IN LOVE with you!"
His expression changed instantly.
All the tenderness vanished from his eyes, replaced by shock and... disgust?
"Riley, no." He stepped back, shaking his head vigorously. "You're just grateful. You don't understand real love. You're still young."
"I'm eighteen!" I screamed hysterically, tears streaming down my face. "I know what love IS!"
"No, you don't." His voice turned serious. "I'm your guardian. What you feel for me is just dependency and gratitude."
"Then what about YOUR feelings for me?" I sobbed uncontrollably. "Don't you ever..."
"I think of you as a sister," he cut me off firmly. "Riley, forget these ridiculous ideas."
My heart shattered completely.
I turned and ran, tears blurring my vision, shame and pain consuming me entirely.
I stumbled back to my room, tore off that white dress in tears, then curled up on my bed, falling into exhausted sleep filled with heartbreak.
Until deep into the night, heavy pounding shook my door.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
"Riley?" Colt's voice, slurred drunk. "Open up... dammit... open the door!"
I dried my tears and opened it. He was leaning against the doorframe, barely able to stand. His white shirt was disheveled, tie missing, hair a complete mess. The sharp smell of whiskey hit me in the face.
"You... you're drunk."
"Drunk?" He staggered into the room, nearly falling. "I can... see perfectly clear..."
He reached out to steady himself and knocked over the lamp on my nightstand.
"You said... you said you loved me." He swayed toward me, eyes unfocused. "Then prove it... prove it to me..."
Before he could finish, he suddenly lunged at me. I couldn't dodge in time.
His kiss was rough and chaotic, mouth full of alcohol making me nauseous. His hands tore at my nightgown, clumsy but powerful.
"No... Colt, you don't mean this..." I tried pushing him away, but he was so much stronger.
"Shut up..." he panted incoherently. "This is... what you wanted..."
He completely lost control, pinning me down like an animal.
That night, I lost my virginity.
And I lost myself.
