Because he's too young. Too reckless. Too compromised.
"He pulled you because of us," she says quietly.
"He pulled me because I broke protocol."
"You broke protocol because of me."
"I broke protocol because I have feeling for you." The words come out harder than I intended. Sharper. The anger isn't at her. It's at the situation, at Deck, at myself for not being able to separate what I want from what I'm supposed to do. But it lands on her anyway, and I see it register.
"Hayes." Her voice changes. Softer. The CEO retreats and the woman comes forward, the one who traced my tattoo with her fingertips and said my name in the dark. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. This is why I said it was a terrible idea."
"Don't."
"Your career. Your standing with your team. This is what you've spent years building, and I've compromised it in a matter of daysdays."
"You didn't compromise anything. I made a choice."
"A choice that got you pulled from a detail. A choice that confirmed every assumption Deck had about whether you could handle this assignment." She zips the suitcase with a sharp, decisive motion. "I'm a grown woman who should have known better. I'm the client. I'm the one with the power imbalance. I should have maintained the boundary."
"There's no power imbalance. I'm not some kid who got seduced."
"That's not what I'm saying."
"It's what you're thinking. It's what Deck is thinking. It's what everyone will think when they find out. The younger guy who couldn't control himself around the older woman. The operator who proved he wasn't mature enough for the job."
Her face changes. Something raw flashes across her features and disappears. "Is that what you think I've done to you? Made you look immature?"
"No. That's what I've done to myself."
The cabin is quiet. Outside, a bird calls from the tree line. Normal morning sounds that have no business existing in a moment that feels like a detonation.
"I have to go to San Francisco," she says. Her voice is level again. Controlled. The walls are back, built higher and thicker than I've seen them since day one. "My company needs me. The board meeting is non-negotiable."
"I know."
"Mace can provide security if Deck assigns him. Warren will coordinate with the FBI on the ground."
"I know."
"And when this is over, when the threat is resolved and my company is stabilized, we can talk about what happens next."
"What happens next." The words taste hollow. "That sounds like a polished way of saying goodbye, Lex."
Her jaw tightens. "It's a polished way of saying I need to think. About what this is. About what it costs. About whether the woman who just watched a thirty-three-year-old man lose his assignment because of her is capable of being in a relationship without destroying what matters to him."
"You're not destroying anything."
"Your commander just told you your judgment is compromised. Your team knows you're sleeping with me. Your professional reputation, the one you've spent twelve years building, is damaged. Because of me." She grabs the suitcase handle. "That's not nothing, Hayes."
"So your solution is to leave."
"My solution is to handle my crisis, let you handle yours, and give us both the space to figure out if this is real or ifit's proximity and adrenaline and forced intimacy that felt like something more."
The words cut deep. Not because she's wrong to ask the question. Proximity and adrenaline do create false attachments. I've seen it. Operators who fall for the people they protect because the intensity of the situation manufactures a bond that doesn't survive normal life. It's textbook. It's common.
And the fact that Lex knows this, that she's running the same clinical analysis on our relationship that she runs on everything, shouldn't surprise me. But it does. Because two nights ago, she looked me in the eyes and told me she was falling in love with me, and I believed her. I still believe her. But she's standing in her cabin with a packed suitcase and walls so high I can't see over them, and the woman who trembled in my arms is gone.
"It's real," I say. "For me, it's real."
