Her heart squeezed with gratitude, tangled up with guilt.“You didn’t have to mobilize the cavalry.”
“Yes,” he said flatly.“I did.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.Pick your battles, Giordano.This wasn’t the hill.
“I just need you to trust me,” she said instead.“This matters.”
His gaze softened, just a fraction.“I know it does.”
That was the problem.He knew.He understood why she couldn’t cancel, why she wouldn’t hide, why the idea of disappointing kids waiting on heart surgeries felt worse than any threat ever could.
She slipped her sneakers on, tying them tight, and stood.“I’ll be on stage with instructors behind me and loud music blaring through the speakers.It’s controlled.”
“Crowds never are.”
She walked to him then and felt his warmth, his steady gravity, and the way he made chaos feel temporarily negotiable.“You’re here,” she said quietly.“That helps.”
His hand came up, fingers brushing her arm and causing her to shiver.“I’ll be everywhere you aren’t.”
She huffed a small breath.“I can’t decide if that’s creepy or reassuring.Possibly both.”
A hint of a smile touched his mouth.“That’s my brand.”
Her phone buzzed again.It was Sandy this time, with a selfie of the setup already live behind her:You’re going to crush this.
Chloe squared her shoulders.
She wasn’t naïve or fearless.But she was strong, and she was here.Those kids needed help more than she needed comfort.
“Okay,” she said, drawing in a deep, steady breath.“Let’s go make people sweat for a good cause.”
Kayne reached for the door, then paused to look back at her.
“Chloe,” he said softly.“Eyes up.If anything feels wrong—anything—you stop.”
She nodded.No argument.Not today.
They stepped out into the crisp morning air and drove to the event.Sirens wailed somewhere distant when she slid out of the SUV, a sound that snagged her attention before she forced herself to let it go.Forest Park stretched ahead of them, wide, open, and deceptively peaceful.
And somewhere beneath her calm, her instincts whispered.
This wasn’t just another workout.
#
Kayne hated crowds.There were too many variables, blind spots, and people who assumed nothing bad could happen because someone had filed the proper permits, as if paperwork had ever stopped violence before.
Forest Park stretched out in every direction.Rolling lawns, tree-lined paths, and rooftops peeking through branches like watchful eyes.It was beautiful and open, making it an absolute nightmare to secure.
He stood just offstage, scanning with a predator’s patience as event staff erected tents, checked cables, and shouted last-minute instructions into headsets.His gaze moved constantly, never lingering long in one place, tracking patterns rather than faces.
“At least it’s a nice, sunny day,” Anja murmured beside him.
She was dressed low-key athletic, hair pulled into a tight knot that meant business.She passed him a pair of binoculars without ceremony.“Perimeter’s mostly clean.And before you ask, yes,mostlymeans I’d bet my life on it, not yours.”
“Comforting,” he muttered, lifting the binoculars.
The crowd swelled faster than he liked with hundreds of people in neon leggings and branded tanks, laughter bubbling, phones already out.The livestream crew tested sound levels, and the echo of Chloe’s name drifted across the field as someone did a mic check, her voice magnified until it belonged to everyone.
