“Mason.” Jake pushes off the fence, takes a step closer. “I'm not questioning your judgment, but you need to be clear about what you're signing up for. This isn't a protection detail. This is a woman probably on a vengeance mission, and vengeance doesn't follow rules. It doesn't care about collateral damage or operational security. It just burns until there's nothing left.”
I exhale, staying still so I don’t spook the mare. “I know what it is.”
“Do you?” Luke's voice is pointed. “Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're about to walk into a fire for a woman you barely know, who may not want you back.”
The mare presses forward again, tickling the nape of my neck. Her breath is warm against my skin. Slowly—so slowly it barely registers as movement—I lift my other hand and touch her muzzle.
She doesn't bolt.
“I know her well enough,” I say softly, leaning my head into the horse.
It's not entirely true. I don't know Lily's favorite color or how she takes her coffee or what she sounds like when she laughs. I don't know the small, ordinary things that make up a life.
But I know her in the ways that matter. I know the shape of her trauma and the way she moves through a room like she's expecting enemies. I know what it costs her to keep moving forward when every instinct screams to run.
“I have a hunch that Turner's escalating,” Jake says, bringing us back to operational reality. “Kelly's presence confirms the network is active. If Lily's hunting the same men we're surveilling, our missions are going to intersect. We need to coordinate. Share intel. Make sure we're not working against each other.”
“Agreed.”
“Which means she needs to come in.” Luke's tone is firm. “No more lone-wolf operations. No more going dark. If she's part of this, she's part of the team.”
The mare leans into my touch. Her eyes half close, and some of the tension drains from her body. It's not trust—not yet—but it's the beginning of it. The first fragile thread of connection.
I sigh. “I'll talk to her.”
“Mason.” Jake's voice drops into that tone—the one that means he's about to say something I won't like. “Emma's pregnancy changes things. I can't risk?—”
“I know.” I turn to face him fully. “I won't let it touch her, or the baby. You have my word.”
Jake holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods. “Okay.”
The three of us stand there in the corral, the morning sun climbing higher, the mare's warmth solid against my palm. Somewhere north of here, Turner's operation is building toward something we can't see yet.
Somewhere across town, Lily's planning God knows what.
And somewhere in the space between those two forces, I'm trying to figure out how to keep everyone I care about safe.
The mare shifts her weight, pressing closer. Her muzzle brushes my shoulder—tentative, testing, but no longer afraid. She nickers softly and leans her full weight against me.
Small victories. I rest my hand on her neck and feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath my palm.
Trust takes time, but it starts with moments like this—standing still, proving you're not the threat, waiting for the wounded thing to decide you're worth the risk.
I can do that.
For the mare.
For Lily.
For as long as it takes.
24
LILY
Emma Hayes
Lunch at the diner? 12:30?
