"Increased threat assessment due to the bride's high profile." Charlie's voice is honey and smoke. She's perched on the table'sedge, one long leg crossed over the other, blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. Beautiful enough to stop traffic. Dangerous enough to cause a pileup. "Rich families love being paranoid. Makes them feel important."
"Plus, the groom's family has their own security concerns." Forest adds from where he's slouched against the wall. The man is built like his name suggests—solid, immovable, radiating quiet strength. "Harringtons have made enemies. Easy to sell the extra muscle as preventative."
The hologram shifts again. The estate's floor plan spreads before us—a maze of corridors, ballrooms, and private quarters. Jenny's fingers dance through the projection, highlighting sections in different colors.
"Jon and Brett, you're on the catering team." She doesn't look at the two men, just points. "That gives you access to the main house. Kitchen. Dining areas. Anywhere food and drink need to go."
I glance at the pair. They stand close—not touching, but orbiting each other like binary stars. Jon is darker, broader, his presence solid and grounding. Brett lighter, leaner, moving with a fighter's grace. The way they communicate without words speaks of years together. Battle. Blood. Brotherhood.
"Catering." Brett's mouth quirks. "Haven't done food service since that job in Prague."
"That wasn't food service." Jon's response is dry. "That was a disaster with appetizers."
"You're the one who set off the?—"
"Focus." Jenny's single word cuts through the banter. No raised voice. Just authority. The room snaps to attention. "Charlie and I will infiltrate as either florist assistants or waitstaff. Our primary objective is to make contact with Vivianne. We need to reach the bridal suite and assess her physical and mental state."
My chest tightens.Physical and mental state.Clinical terms for whether the woman I love has been broken by her captors.
"She's strong." The words come out rougher than intended. "Vivianne won't break."
Jenny's gaze locks onto mine. Assessing. Measuring. "Everyone breaks eventually. It's just a matter of how much pressure gets applied and for how long."
The truth of it sits heavy in the room. I want to argue. To insist Vivianne is different, special, unbreakable.
But I remember Catherine. My sister, whom I thought was invincible. Who walked into that museum in Florence with absolute confidence.
Who never walked out.
"What about us?" Merlin's question pulls me back from the edge of that particular abyss. "Where do Paul and I fit in this operation?"
Jenny manipulates the display again. The estate's perimeter appears, surrounding properties marked in yellow. "You're our insurance policy. Off-site, monitoring communications, ready to provide intel or extraction support if things go sideways."
"Absolutely not."
The words are out before I can stop them. I push away from the table, the chair scraping harshly against concrete. "I'm not sitting in a van while Vivianne is in there. I'm going in."
"No." Jenny doesn't move. Doesn't raise her voice. Just states it as fact. "You're emotionally compromised. Emotional compromise gets people killed."
"I know the art world. Know these people. I can?—"
"Get Vivianne killed along with yourself and anyone near you when you do something stupid." She steps around the table, closing the distance between us. Up close, the scars are visible—one along her jawline, another disappearing into her hairline. Combat wounds. Proof she's earned the right to make thesecalls. "This isn't negotiable, de Gaulle. You want our help? You follow our rules."
The air crackles with tension. Everyone's watching. Waiting to see if I'll push back. If I'll throw away this chance because my pride can't handle being benched.
Merlin's hand finds my shoulder again. "She's right, mon ami."
I want to shrug him off. Want to argue that it's my operation, my plan, my woman we're saving.
But it's not. Not really. The moment I called in the Guardians, I handed over control.
"Fine." The word tastes like ash. "We stay off-site."
"Good." Jenny turns back to the display, and the moment passes. "Now, let's talk about contingencies."
The briefing continues for another two hours. Escape routes. Communication protocols. What to do if Vivianne can't or won't leave. What to do if Faulks or the groom make an appearance. What to do if everything goes to hell.
That last section takes the longest.
