He stops beside my chair, closer than strictly necessary for conversation. His hand lands on my shoulder. Friendly. Familiar. Like we've known each other longer than twenty minutes.
"If you need help getting oriented, learning the city from our perspective, I'd be happy to show you around." His Scottish accent makes the offer sound warm. "I know all the territories. Could be useful for someone new to the operation."
I open my mouth to respond.
A sound cuts through the room. Low. Barely audible.
A growl.
It's coming from the head of the table.
Every conversation stops. Ethan's fingers freeze above his tablet. Nadia goes very still. Julian's hand lifts from my shoulder like he's touched something hot.
I turn to look at Maximus.
He hasn't moved. Still seated, still composed, hands still folded in front of him. But his eyes are fixed on Julian with an intensity that makes something primal in me want to bare my throat in submission. His jaw is tight, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. And that sound, that low, rumbling warning, is still vibrating in his chest. So quiet, I might have imagined it if the entire room wasn't frozen.
What the hell?
Julian takes a full step back from my chair. "Just an offer," he says, and his voice has lost all its warmth. Careful now. Cautious. "Standing invitation. For operational purposes."
Maximus doesn't respond. Doesn't blink. The growl recedes, but the tension doesn't.
The silence stretches. One second. Two. Three.
I don't understand what's happening. Julian was being friendly. Aggressively friendly, maybe, but nothing that warranted... whatever this is. I've seen Maximus face down attackers, execute a man, interrogate prisoners. I've never seen him look at someone like he's considering how many pieces to leave behind.
Over what? A hand on my shoulder?
Finally, Maximus looks away. Back to the maps on the screen, as if nothing happened. "Ethan. The surveillance gaps."
His voice is perfectly controlled. Like the last thirty seconds didn't exist.
Ethan clears his throat twice before he can speak. "Right. Yes. The, um, the eastern quadrant has the most exposure..."
The meeting resumes, but something has fundamentally shifted. I can feel eyes on me now. Quick glances. Reassessments. People putting pieces together that I don't have access to. Nadia catches my gaze across the table. One perfect eyebrow arches. The corner of her mouth twitches.
She looks like she's trying very hard not to smile.
Julian returns to his seat on the opposite side of the table. He doesn't look at me again. Doesn't look at Maximus either. Just stares at his tablet like it contains the secrets of the universe.
I sit very still, something fluttering in my chest, trying to process what just happened.
Maximus growled at someone for touching me.
I sneak a glance at him. He's listening to Ethan's report, face neutral, completely focused on strategy. Like nothing happened. Like he didn't just make a sound that belongs in a nature documentary about apex predators defending their territory.
But his hand, resting on the table, is clenched into a fist.
And when his eyes flick to mine for just a second, there's something in them that makes my breath catch.
Then he looks away, and I'm left with my body humming and absolutely no idea what any of it means.
The meeting continues for another hour, covering defensive preparations, donor security protocols, supply chain redundancies. I listen more than I speak, learning how decisions are made, who defers to whom, where the power dynamics actually lie.
Maximus is clearly in charge, but he lets others contribute. Nadia and Julian seem to have the most influence, their opinions carry weight. Isabelle handles all the financial decisions. Ethan provides intelligence but doesn't weigh in on strategy. Caleb rarely speaks, but when he does, people listen.
And Marcellus, he's the one who challenges Maximus most directly. Tests ideas, pokes holes in plans. It's not disrespect; it's how they work together. Maximus seems to value the pushback.
