Page 145 of Beyond Protection
She didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed locked on me. The gun—small, dark, professional—was at her side.
"You're Matthew," she said. "EMT. Younger middle brother. You're not a threat."
"Lower the weapon," Matthew repeated.
"I'm not here for violence." It was the clinical calm from the messages. "I'm here to prevent further damage. Mac understands. Don't you, Mac?"
I couldn't speak.
"Mac." She took a step forward. Matthew mirrored it with a backward move. "You came here instead of staying in Seattle proper. That was smart. Home is where the deterioration began. But you can't heal here. The environment is too contaminated."
"Contaminated," I repeated.
"By expectation. By history. By—" She glanced at Matthew, and then looked back at me. "—by people who love you but don't understand what you need."
"And you do?" My voice was shaky. "You understand what I need?"
"Yes." Simple. Certain. "I've documented your condition for eighteen months. You're suffering microdamage from improper handling. The media. The spotlight. All of it slowly destroying something irreplaceable."
"You're not a conservator anymore," Matthew said. "You were let go. You're not responsible for—"
"They removed me for being too thorough." Her shoulders tensed. "For seeing what others missed."
Outside, voices grew louder. Flashlights began converging on the house.
Vanessa shifted her grip on her gun.
"We don't have much time. They'll be here soon. But if you come willingly, I can save—"
"Save me from what?"
"From him." The words were sharp and angry. "That man. The bodyguard. Eamon Price."
I stopped breathing.
"He's contaminated you and introduced chaos where you needed stability. He's vandalism, Mac. A crude mark on something pristine."
"He loves me," I said.
"Love contaminates." She took another step. Matthew matched it. "Love makes you vulnerable. Makes you less than what you could be if I properly preserve you."
For eighteen months, she'd been watching. Building a narrative where my exhaustion was irreversible damage, Eamon's care was destruction, and isolating me was the only salvation.
She genuinely believed it.
"The cabin was ready," I said. Buying time. "Why aren't we there?"
"You came here instead. I realized—extraction from neutral ground wouldn't address the fundamental contamination. I need to restore you to the point of origin. Remove you from this place that taught you to split yourself."
Behind me, I heard movement. Marcus and Miles, probably. Positioning themselves.
"Mac," Matthew said quietly. "Step back toward me. Slowly."
"No." Vanessa's voice sharpened. Her gun started to rise. "He stays where I can see him."
"Ma'am—"
"I said no." Louder now. "You don't—none of you understand. I'm not here to hurt him. You all let him burn himself out. Let that man touch him like he's ordinary."
