"Already on it," Mateo confirms, packing up the disabled camera with careful precision.
As they all move with focused urgency, I remain standing in my living room, staring at the spot where the camera had been hidden. Recording me. Watching me. Invading the sanctuary of my home with the same violation I thought I'd escaped at sixteen.
But this time is different. This time, I'm not a confused, frightened child. This time, I have resources, allies,strength that my fourteen-year-old self couldn't have imagined.
This time, I'm fighting back.
I look at the envelope of surveillance photos, these images meant to terrify me into submission. Instead, they've awakened something I thought had been buried years ago. A fierce, burning determination that carried me through the darkest days of my youth.
Whoever is doing this, whatever sick game they're playing, they've made a fatal miscalculation. They think they're hunting the girl I was.
They have no idea who I've become.
13
ETHAN
I've failed her.
Sure, there's the high probability that the camera was placed before we installed our security system.
It doesn't ease my guilt.
As Mateo works, I take stock of our situation. The perimeter alert that pulled us outside was likely a diversion, meant to draw attention away from something else. Perhaps to test our reaction times. Or someone watching to see our response when Jade discovered them. We'll need to review all security footage from this morning, check every inch of the property.
When she said she wanted to proceed with things as scheduled, that she won't be intimidated anymore, I felt proud. Her words resonated somewhere deep inside me. I recognized the steel in her spine, the refusal to be victimized. It's the same determination that got me through the aftermath of my own betrayal, the sameresolve that led me to start Cross Security rather than let someone else define my future.
But it's my job to keep her safe, not to admire her courage. And right now, keeping her safe means locking down.
I exchange a look with Declan, communicating silently. He understands the gravity of the situation as well as I do. This isn't just a stalker, this is someone with resources, someone who at some point had access to the interior of the house. Someone who knows we are here and is testing us. The threat level has just escalated exponentially.
"Mateo, complete the sweep," I order. "Every room, every possible hiding place. I want to know if there are more devices, and I want to know now. From now on, we have daily sweeps."
"Already on it," he confirms, packing up the disabled camera.
As the team disperses to their tasks, I find myself watching Jade. She stands in her living room, staring at the spot where the camera had been hidden, a complex mixture of emotions playing across her face. Violation. Fear. Anger. Resolve.
What I don't see is defeat. Not a trace of it.
The past three weeks have revealed layers to Jade Sinclair that I never expected when we took this assignment. Beneath the polished exterior, beyond the Ice Queen reputation, there's a core of resilience that commands respect. She's survivedthings that would break most people, carrying scars no one should have to bear, yet she stands straight-backed and unbowed.
And I've been noticing. Too much.
The midnight conversations. The quiet moments of vulnerability she's allowed me to witness. The way she laughs at Mateo's jokes, indulges Sophie's nervousness, challenges Declan's stoicism.
The way she's begun to trust us. To trust me.
I've been letting the lines blur, letting professional distance erode, allowing myself to see her as more than just a client. It's a dangerous path, one that compromises objectivity, creates blind spots, puts her at risk.
That ends now.
The stakes are too high for distractions. Whoever's targeting her has sophisticated equipment and a disturbing fixation that echoes her past trauma. They've already breached her home once. I won't give them another opportunity.
From now on, it's strictly professional. No more late-night conversations. No more shared confidences. No more moments of connection that have nothing to do with security protocols. I need to be her protector, not her friend. Certainly not anything more.
No matter what it costs me personally.
I walk through the house, mentally cataloging vulnerabilities, planning defensive positions, mappingresponse scenarios. This is what I do best: turn chaos into order, fear into strategy, threats into tactical problems to be solved. I can't eliminate the danger completely, but I can contain it, control it, mitigate it.
