I move closer. Keep my voice steady. Factual. Not accusatory. Just stating reality. "You need someone here. Someone who can help you navigate the space. Handle logistics. Manage the daily necessities. Be present without drawing attention or raising questions."
I pause. Let that sink in before continuing.
"I can't be here all the time. I need to be visible. Out in the streets. Attending meetings. Collecting tribute. Settling disputes. Making sure this alliance with Erion holds. Making sure the transition is smooth. Making sure the men see strength and stability."
Luan's jaw tightens. His hands flex once against the armrests.
"And you need to stay here," I continue. "Out of sight. Out of circulation. Give yourself time to heal properly."
Luan's hands tighten again. White-knuckled. "No one else can know about this."
"Luan—"
"No one." His voice is flat. Hard. Absolute. "We can't trust anyone right now. Not until we know who planted that bomb. Not until we know who's still loyal to my father. Not until we've rooted out every possible threat."
"I know."
"Then what are you suggesting?"
I take a breath. Say it. "The girl. Lily."
Luan goes completely rigid. Every muscle locked. His entire body tensing like I just drew a weapon. "No."
"She's already involved. She saw us. She knows."
"She doesn't know who I am. She doesn't know what this is. She doesn't know anything. And that's how it stays."
"It can't work that way."
"Why not?"
"Because she's already a variable we need to manage."
Luan stands. Fast. Too fast. His hand shoots out, finds the back of the chair immediately. Grips it hard. Steadies himself. "She doesn't belong anywhere near this world. Near this life. Near any of this."
"She's already seen enough to be a risk if we don't manage her properly."
"So manage her from a distance. Pay her to stay quiet. Scare her into forgetting. Whatever it takes. But she doesn't come back here."
I step closer. "You need someone here who isn't part of the organization. Someone who has no connections to the old guard or your father's loyalists. Someone who can't be compromised because they're not invested in any of this. Someone who doesn't know enough to be a threat but knows enough to be useful."
"You're talking about bringing a complete stranger into my home."
The tension spikes. Sharp. Immediate. But not violent. This isn't a power struggle. It's something deeper. More fundamental. Pride fighting against necessity. Control fighting against vulnerability. Independence fighting against dependence.
"You can't do this alone," I say quietly. Firmly.
Luan is silent for a long moment. His breathing is controlled but I can see the tension in his shoulders. In his neck. In the rigid line of his spine. The resistance radiating off him in waves.
"You just have to let her handle the logistics. The daily necessities. The practical things. You maintain control over everything else. Over all the important things. She's just support."
Long silence. I can almost hear him thinking. Calculating. Weighing options against each other. Pride against pragmatism. Control against necessity.
Then Luan exhales slowly. Deliberately. "Fine."
Luan releases the chair. Straightens. His shoulders pull back. His chin lifts slightly. Reclaiming control even as he concedes ground. "Find her."
6
