Page 87 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“I’ll take care of it. Give me your coordinates.”

“Gwen, send it via encrypted message. Now.”

Her breath hitched. “I’m not sure how to⁠—”

“Third page, top left app. It’s obvious once you find it.”

She kept nodding as she swiped through my phone.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice softened. “Slow down.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re running hot. It’s in every word out of your mouth. Slow down and be strategic.”

“I am being fucking—” I stopped. Breathed hard through my nose. Because he was right. Of course he was fucking right. I wasn’t being strategic. I was driving through rural France at midnight with my headlights off and no actual plan.

“There it is,” Merlin said. “Stay in that pause.”

I exhaled through my teeth.

“Coordinates received. Thank you, Gwen, you did a great job.” A keyboard clicked on his end. “I’ll call back with a location. Fifteen minutes. And Arthur, don’t forget Rick’s a jealous prick whose ego always got in the way. Don’t let him in your head.”

He hung up before I could inform him he was over-fucking-simplifying things.

I drove. The road narrowed, and I turned the lights back on to pick up speed. Hedgerows closed in on both sides.

Gwen set my phone back on the console and returned her hands to the seat edge and the door handle. Her breathing had slowed a little. Not much.

‘Rick’s a jealous prick whose ego always got in the way.’

Merlin was wrong. Rick was a prick, yes. But he was also a better fighter than me, at least tonight. He’d found my injured arm in the first thirty seconds and torn me apart. And when he’d had his forearm across my throat and his face an inch from mine?

I hadn’t taken him down.

Gwen had.

‘First Uther. Now your girlfriend.’

The words sat heavy in my chest, and no amount of driving was going to shake them loose.

Gwen had hit him with a stone planter because I was losing. She’d stepped in and saved me, because I was doing a job I wasn’t prepared for. A job I wasn’t good enough for. I shouldn’t have sent Lance to Malta. Shouldn’t have split the team.

I’d made so many bad decisions.

Including kissing her. And walking the fuck out. Rick hadn’t needed to find us. I’d handed Gwen to him on a fucking platter.

“Who is he?” Gwen’s words were slow. She hadn’t forgotten the question—she’d been waiting for the right moment to try again.

I stared at the road.

When I’d joined the Pendragon contingent for Task Force Legacy, Rick Younge had already been overseas for two years. He’d run operations in three countries. He knew every protocol, every asset, every pressure point in the region. The other operators respected him because he’d earned everything by being better than everyone around him.

But my father put me in charge. Not because I’d earned it. Not because I was ready.

Because I was Arthur fucking Penn.

I’d tried to fix it with him. Joint planning sessions where I’d defer to Rick’s expertise. Offered him lead positions when his judgment mattered. I took every opportunity to show the job should have been his.