“We don’t know,” I say for the third time, refusing to hang a certainty on uncertainty.“But whether he is or isn’t doesn’t change what we do next.We build a net.We make her world small enough to feel safe and big enough to breathe.”
Finn’s voice goes small.“She thought she had to go home alone tonight.”
“She asked anyway,” I say.“That’s the headline.”
He nods, eyes bright around the edges he never lets show on the ice.“She did.”
Atlas turns his glass in slow, irritated circles.“What if he’s got people?Friends.Someone new she doesn’t know he knows.”
“Then we watch patterns,” I say.“Same cars.Same faces.Same timing.We trust the staff who’ve already proven they know when to disappear and when to step in.We loop security in if she says yes.We don’t flood her with more men to manage.”
He hates how much sense that makes.He doesn’t argue.
Finn rubs the back of his neck.“And if he calls while she’s with one of us?Not texts, calls.”
“We follow her lead,” I say.“If she silences it, we shut up.If she wants it off, it goes off.If she wants a record, we log time and number and keep our mouths shut until she decides what to do with it.”
Finn’s mouth tilts.“You going to be that calm if it rings in your hand?”
“No,” I say.“But I’ll act like it.”
Atlas huffs a humorless breath.“I won’t.”
“Then you don’t answer,” I say without heat.“You hand it to me.Or you set it face-down and keep your hand on her.”
His gaze flicks to me like he’s measuring whether I’ll actually take it from him in the moment.He knows the answer.I won’t have to.He’ll want me to.
Finn knocks his heel against the cabinet and looks at the doorway again, drawn like a tide.“She’s really asleep?”
“Down enough,” I say.“She’ll cycle.If she wakes, she’s not waking alone.”
The word alone makes all three of us go still for a second.It’s the word we’re fighting, more than any name.
Finn clears his throat.“She told me one more thing last night.”
Atlas and I both look at him.
He wets his lips.“That he’s...believable.To other people.Charming in small doses.Works crowds.That’s how he gets the benefit of the doubt.”
I don’t let the anger pull my face tight; I let it cool.“So we don’t tell the story for her.We don’t try to convince anyone of anything.We build a record she owns.We help without replacing her voice.”
Finn nods, grateful that I said what he didn’t know how to ask.
Atlas’s mouth is a thin line.“If he shows up—”
“If he shows up,” I say, “he doesn’t get within ten feet of her.”
He digests the number.“Ten feet’s generous.”
“It’s legal,” I say.“And if he crosses it, the next number is zero.”
Finn lets out a breath that shakes on the way down.“I hate that this is already a plan.”
“I hate that she needed it months ago,” I say.“We’re late.We do it right to make up for the time.”
Silence again.Not empty.Not comfortable.Heavy with the shape of something turning into purpose.
I top off their glasses—half pours this time—and raise mine without ceremony.“To the plan.To the line.To not letting him own a single inch more of her life.”
