Page 34 of Protect Thy Enemy

Harris nods, then shifts his attention to Grant. “Agent Grant, you’ve been vocal about the team’s performance. Anything you’d like to add?”

Grant doesn’t move from his spot by the window. “We caught the device,” he says evenly, “but it was too close. Williams hesitated.”

What?The words land like a slap, and my jaw tightens.

“With respect, sir,” I cut in before Harris can respond, “I didn’t hesitate. The device wasn’t in my designated area. I acted as soon as it was identified.”

I remember what Grant said about saving my own ass. About acting like a member of the team. But this feels like more thanthat. It’s like he’s deliberately trying to place the blame solely on me, and I’m not going for that shit. Absolutely fucking not.

I spare a glance at Park but his face holds no emotion. If anything, he looks bored. Typical.

Grant finally turns to face me, his eyes narrowing. “And if no one had identified it? If the sweep hadn’t caught it in time?”

“That’s enough,” Harris firmly interjects. “The incident is logged, and corrective measures will be taken. Moving forward, I expect all of you to anticipate these situations, regardless of assigned areas.”

I force myself to nod, swallowing the retort burning on the tip of my tongue.

Harris continues, addressing the room. “Now, about today’s assignments. The First Lady event at the National Gallery. It’s a charity fundraiser, so there will be a lot of high-profile guests and media coverage. Williams, you’ll be on detail with Grant. Park, you’re paired with Tate for perimeter security.”

I blink, my heart dropping into my stomach.

“Sir,” Grant says, stepping forward, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Harris raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Grant’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he might actually say it—that he doesn’t think I’m capable, that he doesn’t trust me. But instead, he says, “Her focus needs to improve. Pairing her with someone else today might be better for training purposes.”

The words sting more than I expect, but I refuse to let it show.

Harris waves a hand dismissively. “You’re one of our best agents, Grant. If anyone can sharpen her skills, it’s you. End of discussion.”

Grant’s mouth presses into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue further. Instead, he shoots me a look. A mix of irritation andsomething darker that sends a shiver down my spine and straight to my core.

I hate that my pulse quickens under his gaze and that my skin feels too warm like I’m standing too close to a fire.

“Understood,” Grant says finally, his tone clipped.

Harris nods, his focus already shifting back to the files in front of him. “Dismissed. Be ready to move out in an hour.”

The others file out first, but I linger for a moment, gathering my notes. Grant doesn’t move, his gaze fixed on me as if daring me to say something.

I don’t. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

As I pass him on my way out, the heat of his presence brushes against me, and I hate the way it makes my chest tighten.

I tell myself it’s just adrenaline, leftover tension from yesterday. But as I step into the hallway, my thoughts betray me. None of this feels like just criticism. It feels personal.

And at this point, I can’t decide if I want to prove him wrong or if I just want to know whyIcare so damn much.

Chapter Twelve

Arden

Ididn’t expect the gallery to be so crowded.

Muted laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of a string quartet fill the room with a sophistication I can’t seem to mimic, no matter how hard I try.

The First Lady glides effortlessly through the crowd, her smile poised and polite as she exchanges handshakes and subtle nods.

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