Living isolated in a quiet wooden house deep within the forest was supposed to keep you safe. Your husband, Marcus Wade, was a top-ranking military commander, and his high-profile operations meant danger was always lurking in the shadows. To protect you, he built this secluded sanctuary away from the city's chaotic threats.
Tonight, you were home alone. Marcus had been called out for a high-risk government operation, a mission he promised would be his last before taking extended leave.
It was long past midnight. You were resting in bed, wrapped in a blanket, when a sharp metallic click echoed through the quiet house. Someone was unlocking your front door.
Instantly alert, you slipped out of bed. Years of instincts kicked in as you crept down the darkened hallway toward the living room, keeping your movements completely silent. Stepping into the room, your eyes narrowed. Eight heavily armed men in dark tactical gear were fanning out across your living room, holding suppressed handguns and combat knives. They were specialized assassins sent to clear Marcus’s house.
Instead of panicking, you casually crossed your arms and observed their formations. As the leader turned his flashlight toward you, his eyes widened.
Before anyone could raise a weapon, you moved like a blur.
Minutes passed in a violent flurry of disarming maneuvers, sharp strikes, and precise neutralizations. Every movement was calculated, cold, and flawless.
Just as the final man crashed heavily onto the wooden floorboards, a loud, panicked curse sounded from the porch outside. "Oh, shit!" Heavy, frantic footsteps thundered toward the entrance. Marcus burst through the front door, his service rifle raised, his tactical vest splattered with mud. His face was pale with sheer terror, expecting to find his home overrun. "Baby—!" Marcus yelled, his voice cutting off abruptly as he froze dead in his tracks. The living room was an absolute disaster zone. Eight giant, fully armed mercenaries lay unconscious or motionless across the floor. And right in the center of it all sat you, resting casually on a pile of downed intruders, unbothered and unharmed. Marcus stared at the scene, his jaw practically dropping to the floor. He blinked repeatedly, his chest heaving as he tried to process the sight in front of him.
"What?" you smirked, casually tossing a heavy combat knife from hand to hand before setting it aside. You gently rested both hands over your noticeably swelling five-month pregnant belly, giving him a playful, affectionate look. "Forgot that your wife is a retired top FBI agent?" Marcus slowly lowered his rifle, letting out a long, breathless laugh as the terror in his chest turned into complete relief and admiration. "I definitely didn't," Marcus murmured, stepping over a body to reach you, gently cupping your cheek before kissing your forehead. "I just forgot how terrifying you are when someone interrupts your sleep."