Promises are dangerous. Bruce made promises too. Promised to love me, protect me. Then broke every one.
But Holden's promises sound different. Like commitments instead of manipulations.
"I'm going to hold you to that."
"Good." Something that might be a smile flickers across his face. "Hold me to every promise I make. I'll keep every one of them. That's how trust works."
Trust. The word I've been avoiding for years. The concept that feels impossible after Bruce taught me that trusting men meant giving them power to destroy you.
Except Holden has had plenty of opportunities to use my vulnerability against me. Has seen me exhausted, scared, breaking down in his arms. Has access to my apartment, my schedule, my entire life.
And every single time, he's chosen protection over possession. Support over control.
That has to mean something. Has to count for something in the careful accounting of who deserves trust and who weaponizes it.
Hartwell finishes her examination and approaches us, expression grim. "Preliminary assessment suggests the fish was caught elsewhere and transported here. The note was printed, not handwritten. No obvious prints on the paper or the vehicle."
"Professional," Holden says, voice flat. "Like the bomb."
"Like the bomb," Hartwell confirms. "Which means either Bruce Tanner has access to resources we didn't know about, or this threat is coming from a different direction entirely."
Different direction. Someone who wants my research. Someone who knows enough about my work to use it as psychological warfare.
Someone who is still out there. Still watching. Still planning whatever comes next.
"I want surveillance on Dr. McKay's vehicle," Holden says. "Cameras covering the parking lot. Motion sensors. If someone gets close again, we need to know."
"Already planned." Hartwell's gaze shifts to me, assessing. "Dr. McKay, I need you to think carefully. Besides Detective Tanner, who else knew about your marine biology work? Who would connect ocean threats specifically to your research and personal history?"
Everyone. The answer sits bitter on my tongue. Published papers, conference presentations, the contract with the base. My work isn't secret.
But knowing how to weaponize it? Knowing that a dead fish with references to drowning and erosion would hit harder than a generic threat? That takes intimate knowledge. Personal understanding of what my research means. What the ocean represents to someone who's spent their entire life studying its power.
"My work is public. Published research, presentations at conferences. Anyone could know I study coastal erosion and marine ecosystems."
"But the personal connection?" Hartwell presses gently. "The depth of understanding to use ocean imagery this specifically. That suggests someone who knows your background, your expertise."
Bruce knew. My mother knows. Mason knows. Colleagues who've heard me talk about growing up on research boats, learning marine biology from my mother before I could spell my own name.
Anyone determined enough could piece it together. Research my background, find my published work, connect the dots between a childhood spent in tide pools and a career devoted to understanding coastal vulnerabilities.
"It's findable. Not easy, but not impossible. Someone who wanted to hurt me would just need to dig."
Hartwell nods, making notes on her tablet. "We'll expand our investigation. In the meantime, Lieutenant Commander Lange will maintain your security detail."
The security detail. Professional language for Holden staying in the guest quarters next door. For protein shakes and morning runs and the wall between us that feels thinner every day.
Hartwell leaves to coordinate with the crime scene techs. Holden stays beside me, unwavering.
"You should eat something. Real food, not just protein shakes."
"Not hungry." The truth. My stomach is too knotted.
"Eat anyway." He steers me toward my apartment, hand light on my back. "You need fuel."
The guidance feels nothing like control. Feels like someone refusing to let me disappear into fear the way Bruce always wanted.
The difference keeps growing. Keeps becoming more obvious. Keeps making me wonder what it would be like if this arrangement wasn't temporary. If Holden wasn't just protection detail but something more permanent.
