"Ms. Plummer..." Deck begins.
"My father thinks I'm here for insurance compliance training." I keep my voice steady, even though anger is starting to burn beneath my ribs. "But you just told me there's a confirmed contract on my life. Those two things don't match. So either my father lied to me, or you're lying to me now. Which is it?"
Boone steps forward. "Your father made a judgment call about how much information you could handle."
"My father decided I couldn't handle the truth about my own life." The anger sharpens. "Just like every other man who thinks they know what's best for me."
The words land harder than I intended. Boone's expression shifts, something flickering behind those ice blue eyes that might be understanding or might be annoyance. It's hard to tell with him.
"Your father wants you alive," Boone says quietly. "So do I. If that requires some... strategic omission to get you here safely, then that's a tactical decision I support."
"Strategic omission." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "That's a very pretty way of saying you both lied."
"Ms. Plummer?—"
"Mara." I step toward him, close enough to see the individual threads of silver in his beard. "If I'm going to be trapped on this mountain with people who think they know what's best for me, the least you can do is use my name."
His jaw works. For a long moment, he just looks at me, and I wonder what he sees. The difficult client. The chaos agent. The woman who makes everything harder than it needs to be.
Or maybe he sees the same thing I see when I look in the mirror. Someone who's spent her whole life being underestimated, managed, controlled by people who claim to have her best interests at heart.
"Mara." My name sounds different in his voice. Lower. Rougher. Like he's tasting it. "Follow me to your cabin. We'll discuss protocols."
"Will those protocols include honesty?"
"They'll include whatever keeps you alive." He holds my gaze, unflinching. "Even if that makes you hate me."
He turns and walks out of the lodge.
I follow.
Because apparently that's what I do now. Follow Boone Garrett and pretend I'm not already obsessing over the way he says my name.
The cabin is nicerthan I expected. Small but well built, with a lofted bedroom, a full bathroom, a kitchenette, and a living area with a wood burning stove. The windows offer views of the forest, and I can see another cabin about a hundred meters away, tucked into the tree line.
"That's my cabin." Boone nods toward it as he sets my bag by the door. "I'm close enough to respond to any alert within thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds." I run my fingers along the rough hewn mantle above the stove. "You've timed it?"
"Multiple times. Different conditions." He moves through the space, checking windows, testing locks. "Day. Night. Snow. Rain. Average response time is twenty three seconds."
I sink onto the leather couch, watching him work. He's methodical about it, precise in a way that should feel clinical but instead feels strangely intimate. Like he's learning my space, cataloging every detail that might affect my safety.
"The windows are reinforced," he continues. "Break resistant glass. The door has a three point locking system. There's a panic button beside the bed and another in the bathroom. If you press either one, I'll be here before you can count to thirty."
"And if I press it by accident?"
"Then I'll be here before you can count to thirty." His eyes meet mine. "False alarms aren't a problem. Missed threats are."
I pull my legs up under me, getting comfortable despite myself. "You really take this seriously."
"I take your life seriously." He straightens from checking under the bed frame. "Everything else is negotiable."
The words hang in the air between us.
"My father." I pick at a thread on my sweater, not quite looking at him. "He really thinks someone is going to try to kill me."
Boone is quiet for a moment. Then he crosses to the couch and sits on the opposite end, closer than I expected but still maintaining distance. "Your quantum encryption technology could destabilize existing security infrastructure worldwide. Governments and corporations have spent billions on systems your work could render obsolete overnight."
