Page 15 of The Bodyguard

“Could be a tracker. Could be worse.”

“Define worse.”

His jaw flexed. “You won’t like it.”

She pushed anyway. “Tell me.”

“Explosive. Lethal. Personal.”

They reached the back hallway. She yanked open the door, ignoring the startled hostess standing by the private elevator.

“Take the long route around the catering bay,” Mitch ordered. “We’re not using your car.”

She froze. “If someone planted something…”

“They’re watching. They didn’t intend for us to find that drop. It was meant to send a message.”

Andi’s stomach churned. She wasn’t just being watched; she was being hunted.

Mitch’s phone buzzed. He checked the message and gave a single nod.

“Confirmed. Package placed beneath your vehicle’s rear bumper. Cerberus drone caught it on thermal. No detonation device. It’s not active.”

“But it could’ve been,” she whispered.

“Yes, and that’s the point.”

Silence bloomed between them. Andi felt the burn in her chest rise, too hot to swallow. All of this—the threats, the crash, the whispers—had felt distant somehow. Abstract. But now… Now she understood what he’d been trying to tell her. Now she understood what control really cost.

Mitch opened the back door to the alley, the night air damp and thick against her skin. The unmarked Cerberus SUV pulled up silently. Another operative was driving.

Mitch opened the rear door, guiding her inside without touching her. She sat down, her breathing shallow. He slid in beside her and closed the door with quiet finality. She didn’t realize she was shaking until the car door closed behind her.

Not a big tremble. Not anything dramatic. But her fingers, wrapped around her clutch like a lifeline, twitched against the leather. Her jaw ached from holding it too tight. Her throat burned from words she hadn’t said—things she couldn’t say. Not in front of donors. Not under the lights. Not while being watched.

For the first few blocks, they didn’t speak. Andi stared straight ahead, hands clenched in her lap.

Then, finally: “You were right.”

He looked at her. “About what?”

“This isn’t politics anymore.”

“No,” he said. “It’s war.”

The rest of the ride back to the loft was silent. The Cerberus vehicle pulled up to her building, and Mitch helped her out of the car and moved her inside. He didn’t ask if she was okay.

The door to the loft shut behind them, and Mitch double-checked the interior cameras before stripping off his jacket and placing it on the counter. He moved with the kind of precision she usually envied in other people. Right now, it made her want to throw something.

Andi stalked into the center of the open-concept space and spun to face him. “How long were you planning to keep that from me?”

He looked up from his tablet, cool and unreadable. “Until we were somewhere safe.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“Yes. It is.”

Her voice rose. “God, you’re impossible.”

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