I review the options, mentally noting advantages and vulnerabilities. "Send me the details. I'll discuss it with her."
"How is she? Holding up okay after the break-in?" Brandon's tone is professionally concerned, the careful neutrality of someone who knows there's more to this situation than standard client protection.
"She's processing, especially about staying at the safe house until we determine next steps." I'm being deliberately vague about the personal complications, about the fact that I spent last night in her bed, and this morning explaining to Lucien why I'm compromised beyond professional recovery. "Andre's shift ends at what time today?"
"He pulled overnight, so Derek is enroute to replace him as we speak. Derek will maintain position for the rest of the day, then I have Marcus scheduled for overnight." Brandon pulls up the rotation schedule on his tablet. "We're maintaining twenty-four-hour coverage until Trask is neutralized."
Brandon closes his tablet. "But Jax, we need to talk about the long-term plan here. The safe house is a temporary solution. She can't live there indefinitely while we chase down Trask and Reese."
"I know. That's why finding a new apartment is priority. Somewhere secure enough that we can establish normal protection protocols without requiring safe house containment." I'm already running through logistics—a moving timeline, security installation, how to make Lana feel safe in a new space when her last apartment was violated. "What's your read on Trask's current activity?"
"Quiet. Too quiet." Brandon pulls up surveillance reports. "No sightings near her building, the foundation office, or any of her regular locations since the break-in. Either he accomplished what he needed during the apartment breach, or he's regrouping for a different approach."
The assessment makes my chest tight with unease I can't quite articulate. Trask isn't the type to simply disappear after escalating to breaking and entering. He's building toward something, documenting patterns, waiting for an opportunity that hasn't presented itself yet.
My phone vibrates. Text from Lana:Derek says I can go to the foundation if I want to catch up on work. Do you think that's safe?
I show Brandon the message. He considers for a moment before responding. "The Foundation office has decent security. Derek can maintain close protection. As long as she's not going anywhere isolated, risk is manageable."
I type back:Safe enough with Derek. Let him handle logistics. Text me when you're leaving and when you arrive.
Lana:Will do. Thank you for not making me stay locked up all day.
Me:I'm not your jailer. Just the person who wants you alive.
Lana:I know. I'll be careful.
I set down my phone, returning attention to Brandon. "So we're looking at Monday for apartment showings, continued monitoring of Trask's activity, and maintained protection protocols until threats are neutralized. Anything else I'm missing?"
"Yeah. Your personal involvement." Brandon's expression is carefully neutral. "I've been doing this workfor fifteen years. I can tell when a protector crosses from professional to personal. Just need to confirm it doesn't compromise the security operation."
"It doesn't. My judgment on threat assessment is sound."
"Good. That's what matters for the contract." He stands and gathers his things. "The apartment upgrades will be finished by the end of the week. I'm also putting together a list of alternative locations if she wants to relocate. Better security infrastructure, less exposure."
"Send them to me. I'll review them with her."
"Will do." He heads for the door, then pauses. "One thing—we're logging every move Trask makes. If Lana's attorney decides to pursue harassment charges, we'll have documentation to support it."
"Good. I'll make sure she knows."
After he leaves, I sit in the coffee shop longer than necessary, drinking overpriced coffee and trying to untangle my increasingly complicated feelings about Lana. I've crossed professional lines—that much is undeniable. And I need to figure out if what we have is real or just crisis-manufactured intimacy. Whether protection is genuine care or just another form of control with better packaging.
But he's also operating from outside the situation, seeing patterns without understanding the specific context that makes this different from standard protector-client dynamics. Lana isn't just someone I'm keeping safe. She's someone who looked directly at my camera and saw me seeing her, who asked for transparency instead of accepting convenient lies, who's trying to rebuild herself after five years of being systematically dismantled.
That has to count for something beyond crisis-manufactured intimacy.
My phone vibrates. Text from Lana:Leaving for foundation now. Derek is driving. Will text when I arrive.
Me:Be safe. Call if anything feels wrong.
Lana:I will. Miss you.
The admission makes something in my chest feel warm and complicated. I type back:Miss you too. See you tonight.
I head back to my apartment in The Hollows, settle at my desk with my laptop and the monitors I use for tracking security feeds. The afternoon stretches out in standard work—reviewing camera footage, checking perimeter alerts, updating threat assessments—tasks that feel increasingly mechanical when my mind keeps circling back to Lana.
I review security reports, check traffic camera feeds near Lana's foundation office, confirming Derek's vehicle arrived and she entered the building without incident.
