Chapter 167 Chapter 167
"No," he laughed gently, rescuing it from destruction while she protested loudly. I leaned back against the couch, smiling because moments like this felt unreal considering everything we survived to get here.
Fear once ruled my life; now safety surrounded me in warm chaos filled with toys, laughter, and family routines built slowly day by day. El rested her head briefly against Zaiel’s shoulder, suddenly calm after excitement, her thumb finding her mouth while sleepiness crept in despite her stubborn refusal to nap.
"She skipped her afternoon nap again," I admitted.
He sighed dramatically. "Rebellion already," he said.
"Rhyland trait," Dad added.
El blinked slowly, fighting sleep while watching us both like she refused to miss anything important. Her personality already shone through: gentle yet curious, affectionate but stubborn when she wanted something, and fearless in ways that sometimes made my heart race. She trusted the world completely, and that terrified me sometimes.
I stood walking closer, brushing curls away from her forehead.
"She’s growing too fast," I whispered.
"I know," he replied, voice softer than usual.
We carried her upstairs together, preparing for a bedtime routine now familiar enough to feel sacred: a warm bath, soft pajamas, and story time she mostly ignored while attempting escape.
Tonight she splashed excessively, soaking both of us before laughing uncontrollably at our reactions.
"Mischief," Zaiel muttered, though his smile betrayed him completely. Wrapped afterward in fluffy towels, she clung to him, refusing release until finally settling into my arms while we read her favorite book for the hundredth time.
Her eyelids drooped gradually. Long lashes resting against round cheeks
Perfect and healthy, I rocked gently humming without realizing until breathing slowed completely, signaling sleep.
We placed her carefully into the crib, stepping back instinctively like movement alone might wake her.
She sighed softly, rolling onto her side, hugging the stuffed rabbit tightly. I watched longer than necessary, my heart full in ways words barely explained.
One year. One year of loving someone so completely it rewired everything inside me. Zaiel slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close while both of us stood quietly watching our daughter sleep.
"You did this," he murmured against my hair.
"We did," I corrected automatically.
He kissed my temple gently, and the downstairs lights dimmed automatically, signaling evening settling fully around us. Life felt steady now, safe and happy, and for the first time in years, fear no longer defined my future; only love did.
ZAIEL
I understood power long before I understood love. Power was simple, predictable, and controlled through fear, strategy, and consequence, something earned through calculation and maintained through dominance, and for most of my life that understanding shaped every decision I made. Then Elowen turned one and destroyed every definition I thought mattered.
My daughter slept across my chest while I sat in the nursery chair long after midnight, small fingers curled into my shirt like letting go might somehow separate us forever, warm steady breaths brushing against my neck while her weight grounded something restless inside me that never truly quieted unless she was close.
I should have been asleep. I had early meetings, contracts waiting, and an empire demanding attention the moment morning arrived, yet none of that felt important enough to move her even slightly. She trusted me completely; that realization never stopped hitting me.
El didn’t question safety, didn’t look over her shoulder, and didn’t hesitate before running straight into my arms whenever she saw me walk through the door, because in her world danger didn’t exist because I removed it.
Her curls tickled my jaw when she shifted softly, a tiny sigh escaping her lips while she pressed closer instinctively, and pride filled my chest so strongly it almost hurt.
She looked like me; everyone said it constantly: same eyes, same stubborn expression when focused, same calm observation before deciding anything, yet everything soft about her belonged to Tessa.
She carried light where I carried shadows, and I would die before allowing the world to take that from her. The monitor beside the crib blinked quietly, tracking movement despite the fact I rarely allowed enough distance between us long enough to need it.
Security cameras covered every angle of the house, external patrol rotations doubled after her birth, and background checks expanded beyond reason for anyone entering our lives, including temporary staff.
Joe once joked I ran protection protocols stronger than government facilities, and he wasn’t wrong. I adjusted slightly, careful not to wake her while my mind automatically reviewed schedules, driver routes, travel contingencies, and future schooling options already under evaluation despite her barely speaking complete sentences yet.
Preparation prevented regret. I learned that lesson watching Tessa suffer long before I entered her life. My daughter would never experience vulnerability, never fear walking alone, and never question whether someone watched her with bad intentions. Anyone who even considered harm wouldn’t reach the opportunity.
El stirred suddenly, eyes fluttering open halfway before focusing on me instantly, recognition softening her expression into sleepy happiness.
"Dada," she mumbled, and my chest tightened immediately.
"I’m here," I whispered, brushing curls from her forehead. She smiled lazily before patting my cheek, like verifying existence, then settling again, completely satisfied that trust owned me entirely.
Down the hall soft footsteps approached, followed by Tessa leaning against the doorway, watching us with quiet amusement.
"You’re supposed to put her back in the crib," she murmured gently.
I shook my head slightly. "She fell asleep here," I replied.
Tessa crossed the room smiling knowingly because she understood the truth.
I wasn’t ready to let go; she sat beside me, resting her head against my shoulder while watching our daughter sleep peacefully.
"You’re worse than when she was born," she teased softly.
I exhaled slowly. "She’s bigger now," I said.
"And?"
"And she moves faster," I answered seriously. Tessa laughed quietly, though warmth filled her eyes instead of mockery. "You’ve childproofed everything twice," she reminded me.
"Three times," I corrected automatically.
She shook her head, smiling; watching them together still felt unreal sometimes—my wife alive, healthy, and safe, and my daughter thriving and strong, both existing inside a life I once believed impossible.
A year ago survival mattered; now preservation did. El shifted again, stretching tiny legs before accidentally kicking my ribs, causing Tessa to laugh harder.
"See," she whispered.
"Violent already," I muttered, though pride slipped through.
Eventually I stood carefully transferring El into her crib, hands lingering longer than necessary adjusting blankets, ensuring comfort despite knowing she slept fine without interference. She rolled immediately, hugging her rabbit again, completely secure.
I remained there watching, counting her breaths, memorizing. Tessa slipped her hand into mine, pulling gently. "Come to bed," she said softly.
I followed, reluctantly glancing back twice before leaving the room. Even in sleep I monitored sounds automatically, years of instinct refusing rest completely, yet exhaustion felt different now. Not heavy, purposeful
In our bedroom Tessa settled beneath blankets while I paused near the window, scanning exterior grounds automatically, security lights glowing across property lines reassuring but never sufficient. Protection never ended, especially now, behind me. Tessa spoke quietly.
"You’re thinking again," she said.
"I always think," I replied.