"From a stalker who's now in custody!"
"And you know that's the only threat? That he was working alone?" My voice rises. "That there aren't copycats or fans or a thousand other potential dangers out there?"
She crosses her arms, shoulders squared like she's digging her heels into the earth. "I needed to go. Those people... I started a project a few months ago with them. They've been waiting for me to come back. They were counting on me."
"And what happens to them if something happens to you? If you get hurt, or worse?" The words rip out of me before I can stop them. Too loud. Too raw.
The question hangs between us. Her shoulders drop slightly, but her chin lifts in that stubborn gesture I've come to recognize... and God help me, it makes me hard.
She doesn't flinch. She just watches me. And her voice, when it comes, is steady. "It was important enough to take the risk," she says, her voice quieter. "Important for them, but also important for me. You saw the conditions..."
I exhale hard, pacing away from her because if I stay this close, I'll say something I can't take back.
I did see it. And I saw the way she interacted with them. And it had stopped me cold. The woman I'd followed wasn't the Jade Sinclair from magazine covers. It wasn't even the guarded, wary Jade I've been protecting.
This was someone else entirely. Someone who moved through that encampment with purpose and compassion. Who greeted people by name, listened to their stories, treated them with dignity that most of society denied them.
I'd watched, transfixed, as she knelt in the dirt to take an elderly man's portrait, speaking to him with such genuine interest that his weathered face had transformed. As she'd hugged a woman old enough to be her grandmother, laughing at something the woman said.
"I saw," I admit, my voice rough. "But that doesn't change the fact that you put yourself at risk. That you lied to us."
"I didn't lie."
"Omission is still a lie in my book." I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. "You could have told us. We could have arranged proper security."
"Would you have let me go?"
The question catches me off guard. Would I have? I want to say yes, but we both know it would have meant arguments, risk assessments, a security detail that wouldhave changed the entire dynamic of what she was doing there.
"That's not the point," I evade.
"That's exactly the point." Her voice rises with passion. "Some things need more than money thrown at them from a safe distance. Some people need to be seen, really seen. When we don't do anything about the situation, it just becomes the landscape... unnoticed."
The puzzle pieces click into place. Why she insisted on going to Sin Jay's exhibition, against all our advice. The way she'd reacted to the different photos, knowing the names of those women. And now this insistence, this need to continue with a started project. How had I not seen it sooner?
"You're Sin Jay." The words come out before I can stop them.
She goes still.
The silence stretches.
Her eyes widen slightly before narrowing. "How long have you known?"
"I suspected at the gallery. Confirmed it just now." I step closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. "Why hide it? Your work is... extraordinary. It makes people stop and think."
A flush spreads across her cheeks. "That's why. If people knew Jade Sinclair took the photos, they would see themodel first. My reputation would taint the subject. And I want to create something meaningful."
I take a step toward her. Her breath catches.
Something shifts in the air between us. The anger hasn't disappeared, but it's transformed into something else. Something charged with electricity.
"You can't do that again," I tell her, but my voice has lost its edge. "Not alone. Not without telling us."
"I'm not a child, Ethan." She steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my chin down to maintain eye contact. "I had a life before you three came into it. Projects that matter to me. People who count on me."
"And now you have people who..." I cut myself off, the words too dangerous to voice.
"Who what?" she challenges, eyes searching mine.
