Page 83 of The Viper
“And with mine?” She didn’t say it unkindly, but it hit with the precision of a well-thrown dart.
“Yes,” I whispered, because anything else would have been a betrayal I couldn’t live with. “I asked Lucas to keep you safe.”
She nodded. “Then I’m going to ask you to do something for me, too.”
I braced. “Anything.”
“Stop pretending this thing with Lucas is temporary.” Her eyes opened, clear despite the swelling. “Call your life what it is. If you’re in, be in. If you’re out, go. But don’t stand in the doorway. People get crushed there.”
I stared at her, at the woman who’d turned our mother’s chaos into schedules and our childhood panic into lists that saved us a hundred times over. My throat pulled tight. “I’m sorry,” I said, the two words so small for the weight they had to carry. “I’ve been … hard on you. Ducking your calls. Making you the bad guy because it felt useful.”
Hannah’s mouth softened. “You hate being told what to do.” A beat. “You also hate needing anyone.”
We both looked at the tea because it was easier than looking at each other. The mug trembled once in her hands. I covered them with mine until it stopped.
“I’m going to ask you to stay here,” I said. “Not just tonight. Until this—” I fumbled for a shape and gave up. “Until it’s different. I’m sure they have another guest suite, just for you.”
“You want me to move into a fortress.” She sounded like she was testing the word for splinters.
“I want you where I can find you in five seconds,” I said, too fast. “I want you in a room with a man like Atlas thirty feet away and three more men like him I don’t even know about.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
I swallowed. “Please.”
Hannah leaned back against the headboard, the blanket rustling. “Okay.”
The relief hit so hard I had to close my eyes. “Thank you.”
“On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You let me do my job.” She lifted a brow. “You stop going radio silent. You loop me in. You tell me where you’re going and when you’ll be back. You let me build the scaffolding that keeps the dramatic parts from falling on your head. We still have Franklin to answer to.”
I laughed, and the sound wobbled. “Deal.”
“Good.” She sipped again, winced, and set the mug down. Her voice went small. “He really was in my room, Lexi. I was asleep. I woke up because the air felt different—like the window had opened of its own accord. He stood by the dresser and said your name like he owned it. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared.”
My hand found hers before the rest of me did. “I’m here,” I said again, without trying to improve it. “I’m here.”
28
LUCAS
The rental on James Island looked quiet from the outside—weathered blue siding, porch light still on, the marsh behind it whispering in the morning gray. Nothing screamed crime scene. Nothing screamed danger. But my gut told me different, and my gut had kept me alive through worse.
I stepped out of the SUV before Noah killed the engine, my hand already reaching for the pistol under my jacket. The team fanned out behind me—four of Noah's guys, all moving with that practiced silence that came from years of this kind of work. Good men. Professionals.
Noah came up beside me, tablet in hand, eyes scanning the house. "Street cams show nothing. No vehicles, no movement. If someone was here, they came and went like ghosts."
"They're getting good at that," I muttered.
We moved to the front door. It was unlocked—Hannah had run without stopping to lock it, which made sense. I pushed it open slowly, leading with my weapon, sweeping left then right. The living room was empty, untouched. No signs of forced entry here.
"Clear," I called softly.
The team moved in, splitting up to check the rest of the house. I headed straight for Hannah's room, Noah on my heels.
