"You think this is the real attack," I say quietly. "Not surveillance. Not psychological warfare. Physical action."
"I think someone smart enough to run this operation wouldn't leave loose ends." His jaw sets. "And Luc going after Julien alone makes him a loose end."
My pulse hammers. This is my fault. If I hadn't needed protection, Luc wouldn't be walking into a trap. If I'd been stronger, braver, less of a liability?—
"Stop." Remy's voice cuts through the spiral. "Whatever you're thinking right now—stop. This isn't your fault. Julien made choices. Your uncle made choices. Luc made the tactical decision to pursue a lead. None of that's on you."
"He's there because of me."
"He's there because that's his job. One he's very good at." Remy's phone buzzes. He reads the screen, and his face goes white. "Andy just entered the building. Luc's still not responding to comms. GPS shows him stationary on the executive floor."
He's stationary. Not moving.
"We need to go there," I say.
"No." Remy's tone leaves no room for argument. "You stay here. Secured location. That's protocol."
"Fuck protocol." The words come out sharper than intended. "If this is a trap to separate us, then staying here makes me the target they're actually after."
"You don't make tactical calls." Remy's voice goes flat. Hard. "That's not how this works. You're the asset. I'm the operative. I decide how to keep you alive."
"But—"
"No." He cuts me off. "You think I haven't already run every scenario? You think I'm not calculating risk right now?" His eyes narrow. "Luc went after a lead because that's the job. You don't get to second-guess operational decisions or tell me how to protect you."
The rebuke lands like a slap. He's right. I'm doing exactly what I always do—trying to seize control when I don't have it.
"Luc is my Dom," I say quietly. "Not you. And no one comes between a Dom and his sub."
"True." Remy's expression doesn't change. "But that doesn't always play out in the real world. Especially when the Dom in question is my little brother and the sub in question is someone he cares about."
The words hit harder than they should. Someone he cares about. Not just protects. Cares about.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
Remy studies me for a long moment. "If you're smart enough to run LaCroix Petroleum, you're smart enough to figure out Luc." He turns back to the security panel. "Now. You think they wanted Luc out of position?"
"Yes."
He's silent, jaw working. Then he pulls out his phone, texts rapidly.
"Calling in another team. Backup operatives en route to secure the guest house and keep it safe. We leave when they arrive. A few minutes."
Relief makes my knees weak. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." He's already moving through the guest house, checking exits, verifying locks. "If this goes wrong, Luc's going to kill me for taking you into potential danger."
"If we stay here and something happens, I'll kill you myself."
The corner of his mouth lifts. "Fair enough."
I take the stairs two at a time, change fast—jeans, boots, dark jacket. Practical clothes instead of silk pajamas. If we're walking into danger, not doing it defenseless.
By the time I'm back down, the backup team is positioning themselves inside the guest house. Remy briefs them with practiced efficiency—maintain perimeter, no one enters, report any movement immediately.
We're moving. Remy guides me to the armored SUV with the same certainty Luc showed earlier tonight. I climb into the back seat. Remy takes the driver's position.
"Stay low," he instructs. "We're taking side streets, avoiding main routes. Andy's coordinating with NOPD for backup at your building."
