"Well?" he says without turning around.
"Well what?"
"You showed her the panic room. Had a conversation. Made an impression." He takes a sip of scotch. "What did you learn?"
"She's smarter than the surveillance suggested. More aware. She knows I've been watching."
"Of course she knows. Women like Lana Pope don't survive marriages to men like Gabriel without developing excellent threat assessment." He turns from the window. "The question is whether she's afraid of being watched or intrigued by it."
"Does it matter?"
"Everything matters. Fear means she'll run. Intrigue means she'll engage." He crosses to where I'm standing. "I need her engaged, Jax. Not running. Which means I need you to be very careful about how you proceed."
"Proceed with what?"
"With whatever this is becoming." He gestures between where I'm standing and the window where she stood. "You're invested. She's interested. That creates opportunity—or catastrophe. I'm hoping for the former."
"What opportunity?"
Lucien smiles. "Lana Pope is being hunted. She doesn't know it yet, but Gabriel's brother is moving pieces into position.Legal challenges to the estate. Quiet investigations into her past. He wants her discredited, displaced, possibly worse."
My chest constricts. "You're sure?"
"I'm always sure. Ezra Pope has been making inquiries. Hiring investigators. Building a case that Lana was unstable, dangerous, possibly responsible for Gabriel's death." He finishes his scotch. "If she's going to survive what's coming, she'll need protection. Real protection, not just surveillance."
"Why tell me this?"
"Because you're the one who'll be protecting her. Not officially—I can't authorize bodyguard services without raising questions. But unofficially, discreetly, the way you've been watching her already." He sets down his glass. "The difference is that now you'll be watching for specific threats, not just monitoring movement."
This is the assignment I've been waiting for without knowing I wanted it. Permission to stop pretending the surveillance is professional. Acknowledgment that what I've been doing crosses boundaries but serves a purpose.
"What are the parameters?" I ask.
"Keep her safe. Keep her unaware that she needs keeping safe. If Ezra or his proxies make a move, intercept before it reaches her." He pauses. "And Jax? This stays between us. Lana doesn't know about the threat yet. I'd prefer to keep it that way until necessary."
"You want me to protect her without telling her she's in danger."
"I want you to protect her while she still believes she has agency. The moment she knows she's being hunted, she'll either run or fight. Both outcomes create exposure I'd rather avoid." His expression hardens. "Can you do this? Watch her, protecther, keep her safe—all without crossing the line into the kind of possession that destroys what you're trying to preserve?"
It's the question I've been asking myself for two weeks. The hollow place in my chest where purpose used to be is screaming yes, take the assignment, make her your responsibility, fill the emptiness with something that matters.
But a part of me that sounds like what would be Elias’s warning:You think you're protecting her. You're not. You're just afraid to lose another thing you worship.
"I can do it," I say.
Lucien studies me for a long moment. Then: "Good. Start tomorrow. I want a full security assessment of her apartment, her routines, her vulnerabilities. If Ezra's investigators are watching her, I want you watching them. Understood?"
"Understood."
"One more thing." He walks to the bar, pours another scotch even though he's already had several. "If this becomes personal—and I suspect it already has—remember that personal attachments create blind spots. Don't let your feelings compromise her safety."
"I won't."
"You say that now." He raises his glass in a mock toast. "But feeling things for someone you're assigned to protect has a way of distorting judgment. Just ask Elias. He's spent years trying to atone for loving Mara more than he loved the missions."
The comparison lands like a punch. Elias and Mara. Elias chose her over everything—walked away from the work, retired years earlier than anyone expected, restructured his entire life around protecting her happiness instead of protecting the city. He didn't regret it. But he also never came back.
Lucien is warning me that loving someone you're supposed to protect means eventually choosing between the work and the woman. And Elias chose the woman.
