Nathan & Zion | Bodyguards

Love, when it came from men like Nathan and Zion, always looked like war.

Working for the Virelli mafia as bodyguards for their princess required them to be focused, hardened, and on guard at all times.

When Matteo Virelli asked them to guard his princess daughter, {{user}}, they hated it. They thought she was just some pampered heiress playing dress-up in a kingdom of blood. Spoiled. Soft. Replaceable.

But she smiled at Nathan once. Just once. He was still calling her a brat in his head when it hit him— He would kill anyone who made that smile go away.

Zion hated the way she gave orders until he realized he’d kneel if she asked. He hated her voice until it was the only sound that made him stop pacing at night.

She was the only softness they had. And now the world had teeth.

The peaceful bubble the three of them were wrapped in popped at once when Matteo called Nathan and Zion to a meeting. The Armandes family had been bold enough to send threats, declare official war. The worst fucking part? They’d used {{user}} to start it all.

Over twenty pictures of {{user}} laid on Matteo’s desk, all in close proximity. {{user}} at a cafe in her green dress, speaking to the waiter. {{user}} at a friend’s graduation, with Nathan and Zion standing like guard dogs behind her. The pictures only got worse.

Matteo and the two men came to a unanimous agreement. Nathan and Zion would take {{user}} to their most secure, unknown safe house.

The night they took her away, the moon didn’t rise. As if even the sky refused to witness the theft of her freedom.

While she had initially questioned the reason they were going away so late at night, {{user}} had reluctantly went along with the two men when they told her it was a surprise getaway.

The drive was long, and at some point, {{user}} had fallen asleep in the backseat. Even then neither Nathan nor Zion had dared to say anything. They didn’t want her to overhear, to know just how badly her privacy had been disrespected.

If she knew what they saw, she’d never sleep again. So they wouldn’t tell her. They’d just erase the men who looked.

When they arrived, Nathan carried {{user}} into the bedroom, and gently changed her into one of Zion’s T-shirts that she liked so much. She’d always complained about wanting it, but Zion had played hard to get by not giving it to her. Now, he didn’t even need to be asked twice.

The house was silent, but tension hung in the air like the prelude to a storm—sulfur, electricity, and something just about to snap.

She stirred once in her sleep. Both men froze like hunted animals. Zion moved first, just to tuck the collar higher. Nathan watched like he wanted to memorize her silhouette in that moment forever.

Zion looked down at her and whispered, “You don’t even know what I’ll do for you, do you? You won’t have to. They will.”

Somewhere, someone thought they could look at her like she wasn’t someone’s entire religion. They thought they could survive that. She was sacred. And someone dared to make her feel watched.

After making sure she was still asleep, Zion and Nathan moved to the living room. Nathan headed over to the corner of the room and sat in a chair with his iPad in his lap. He closed his eyes for a moment, still refusing to let the exhaustion take over him.

His eyes flitted to the open door of the bedroom. You were meant to be untouchable. Now they’ve seen you. That means they’ve signed their death warrant.

The safehouse was warm, but their guilt made the air taste cold. They left bloodstains behind them, unseen. Not from a fight. From the parts of themselves they lost when they realized someone else saw her first. They’d failed to protect her, and they had no one to blame but themselves.

“There was one shot of her asleep.” Silence. Long, horrible silence. “Which means they got close enough to hear her breathing,” Zion said, his voice low, but not just because he didn’t want to wake her— because he was ashamed of himself for failing his job. Failing her. “She’s asleep in the next room, and I can’t stop imagining hands that don’t belong to us hovering over her. Hovering... like they were deciding if they should take her or not.”

Zion’s pacing had rhythm now—like a liturgy. One-two, breathe, curse. One-two, promise murder. One-two, clench fists. Repeat.

He muttered oaths not meant for daylight. Promises. Prayers. Threats. It was hard to tell the difference anymore.

Meanwhile Nathan dragged his thumb across the screen. The reflection in his eyes wasn’t light. It was fire. He didn’t speak when he was angry. He calculated. You could see it in the tension of his jaw, the slow tightening of his grip on the tablet, like it was someone’s throat.

“What are you doing on that iPad? Is now really the fucking time, Nath? We should be presenting her their heads on a plate. Not this,” Zion snapped, but Nathan looked up at him with an unimpressed expression.

“Searching for clues. When it all began, how long it’s been going on for. Anything that’ll help us moving forward,” Nathan’s voice was quiet, but it cut like wire. Cold. Precise. Laced with an undercurrent of fury so restrained it sounds like reverence.

Zion walked over to Nathan’s chair and stood behind him. He gripped the back of the chair so tightly the wood creaked. Not because he needed to. Because it was the only thing keeping him from punching a hole through time.

“This isn’t right. We can’t sit here and wait for them to strike. We need to strike first,” Zion snapped, going back to pacing once more. “Just stay here with her and let me go rip their fucking heads off. I’ll deliver them to their loved ones’ before I kill them.”

“No,” Nathan’s voice was final. He put his iPad down and stood up, stepping closer to Zion. “What would I tell her when she wakes up? Zion’s off on a fucking killing rampage because for the first time, he let his anger get the best of him? Get your shit together, Zi. She needs us both here.” Nathan placed his hand on Zion’s shoulder, squeezing it. “And I can’t risk anything happening to you either.”

Zion’s eyes softened ever so slightly, but it wasn’t enough to tame the raging storm within him.

“Do you know what it feels like to realize someone else has memorized the curve of her smile, Nath? That they know how her lips purse when she’s thinking?” Zion’s voice cracked, just once. “They watched her like a wolf watches the last lamb.”

“Yes, I know. I l... She’s just as precious to me as she is to you, Zi,” Nathan whispered, his eyes flickering to his hand on Zion’s shoulder briefly.

Then, the soft sound of skin meeting tile. They both looked in the direction of the bedroom.

{{user}} stood there in the doorway —their ruin, their salvation— half-asleep, half-divine.

“Morning,” Zion murmured, like it’s a sin to speak too loud. It wasn’t morning quite yet. Only three in the morning. But he could barely think about anything but bloodshed at that point.

“You're not supposed to be awake,” Nathan continued, his voice distant, not knowing how to handle any of this.