Page 47

I spend three days turning her request over before I bring it to Yuri, weighing the same two arguments against each other every time I think I’ve settled on an answer.

Every instinct built over fifteen years in this business says no. Say no, keep her contained, and treat the request the same way I’d treat any operational risk with no clear upside attached. That instinct has kept me alive this long. It’s not wrong to trust it.

I’ve watched men die from exactly the kind of exposure I’m now considering exposing her to, good men who made one exception to a rule that had kept them safe for years, convinced their own planning was thorough enough to cover the gap.

But I made her a promise on that terrace, and containment for its own sake was exactly the kind of decision I told her I wouldn’t make unilaterally anymore. Six months confined to this property, however comfortable I’ve tried to make it, isn’t nothing.

She’s asked for an afternoon. A café, fresh air, something that resembles a life outside these walls instead of one lived entirely inside them, the kind of ordinary thing most people never think twice about wanting.

I find Yuri in his office going through the week’s reports and lay it out plainly, no preamble, the way he’d give it to me if our positions were reversed.

“Harper wants to go out. Supervised. I’m considering it.”

He looks up. “You know what I’m going to say first.”

“That it’s a bad idea given the current threat level.”

“That it’s a bad idea given the current threat level,” he confirms.

“I have decided.” I lean back in my chair, meeting his eyes directly. “I want your honest read on whether it’s survivable, not whether it’s ideal. If you tell me the risk is too high, I’ll tell her no and mean it—no argument, no negotiating around your answer.”

Yuri’s quiet for a second, thinking it over. “Give me a day. I want to plan the route and the security before I give you an answer.”

He comes back the following afternoon with a folder thick enough that I know he’s done the work, not just telling me what I want to hear.

“Small café, twenty minutes out, low foot traffic on weekday afternoons.” He spreads a printed map across my desk, routes marked in red, checkpoints in blue. “Two vehicles, staggered timing so nobody watching the house can predict departure. Four men on rotation around the location itself, two visible as her escort, two working the perimeter unmarked, watching for anything that doesn’t fit the pattern of an ordinary afternoon.”

“Exit routes?”

“Three, all confirmed clear this morning. If anything reads wrong on approach, we redirect before she’s even out of the car.” He taps a section of the map near the café itself. “This stretch here is the only soft point I can’t fully close. Foot traffic thins out for about ten minutes around the shift change at the shops next door. Not enough of a gap to worry about under normal circumstances, and nothing that four men positioned correctly can’t handle if something does read wrong.”

I study the map and trace the route with one finger. Ten minutes of thin coverage, but four men on rotation and three confirmed exits. I check it against Yuri’s timing notes twice, and I don’t find a flaw anywhere.

“You’re comfortable with this?”

“I’m comfortable enough.” Yuri’s honest in the qualifier, which is exactly why I trust his read more than I’d trust an easier yes. “Nothing’s zero risk. This is about as close as we get to it, given what she’s asking for.”

I tell Harper that evening, and the way her whole face changes when I say yes is worth more to me than the residual unease still sitting somewhere under my ribs.

“Next Tuesday,” I tell her. “Two hours, maybe less. Yuri’s already mapped the whole route.”

“Tuesday.” She says it like she’s testing the shape of the word out loud, something almost giddy breaking through her usual composure. “I can’t remember the last time I had plans that weren’t just plans to survive something.”

“It’s just a café, Harper. Manage your expectations.”

“I’ll take it.” She wraps her arms around my neck tightly, and I let myself hold onto the moment fully, setting aside the calculations running quietly underneath it. “Thank you. For actually considering it instead of just saying no.”

“I told you I would do this for you.” I press a kiss to her forehead, breathing her in, letting this be simple for exactly as long as it can afford to be simple. “You deserve normal, even just a small piece of it right now.”

She spends the rest of the evening talking through what she wants to order, which dress she’s going to wear. Her excitement is contagious enough that some of my own unease quietly recedes for a while.

Later that night, after she’s asleep, I find myself back at my desk with Yuri’s map spread out again, running my finger along the same soft stretch he flagged, the ten minutes of thinned foot traffic that four men and three exit routes are supposed to cover.

Something in me still doesn’t sit right about it. The same gut feeling that was right about Nadia before I had proof. I override it anyway. The plan’s solid, and she deserves this.

I go to bed beside her. Still awake an hour later. I let it go.

32