James

“James is right.”

Dominick’s head snaps toward him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ben doesn’t flinch. Not even a twitch. His gaze stays steady, locked on me through the screen, and the quiet, unwavering respect in it hits harder than anything I expected.

“He’s right,” Ben repeats, firmer now. “Sending her back is a risk. Not just for her, but for the town and the family we’re trying to protect. Emilia and the kids. My wife and daughter. Aunt Rosie. Tyler. All of us. And James is part of this team—this family. That means he gets a say in what happens next. If he believes this is what’s best for the woman he loves, then it’s our job to listen.”

Dominick lets out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh? Fantastic. Great. From now on, let’s just make decisions based on how we feel. Because sure—why the hell not? Maybe we should light a candle, sit in a circle, hold hands, and talk about ‘letting love be our guide’ while we’re at it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I snap before I can stop myself. “You’re lucky I’m in no mood for a fight.”

Zeb shifts beside me like he’s bracing to spring up—eyes flicking between us, waiting for one of us to blow.

Ben doesn’t acknowledge either of us. “Our job is to protect everyone. Sending her back to where Victor already knows to look? That’s not strategy. That’s reactive—and it’s probably exactly what he wants.”

Dominick’s face reddens. “Unless we have some Offset Tactical army I don’t know about, what you’re proposing is impossible. We’re down men. Mason is God knows where, off gallivanting around South America with Creed—”

Ben’s jaw ticks. “Mason is working a case. The case. The one that got Emilia and the girls kidnapped. The one that damn near got James and Tyler killed. It’s our responsibility to see it through—if for no other reason than to keep that mess from landing back on our doorstep.”

“Wrong.” Dominick’s voice spikes. “Our responsibility is to our clients. To this team. To each other. We’re short-handed as it is because of decisions you made, Ben. And now this? James’s brother is missing. Annelly needs protecting. You and Lucas can’t leave your families unprotected, and Owen is tied to HQ. That leaves two of us. Me and Zeb—against that madman’s team of paid muscle. Even if we find the kid, we won’t stand a chance at saving him.”

Annelly and I both flinch.

Hers is small—a tightening of her shoulders—but I feel it like a vice around my chest. Maybe she flinched at the shout… or maybe, like me, at the harsh truth buried in Dom’s words.

Emotion spikes hot in my throat, but all I can do is pull her closer, my palm spreading across her back, grounding her the same way I’m trying to ground myself.

Ben doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. “Victor is targeting her. Putting her somewhere predictable could backfire. It could put even more people at risk if he comes after her.”

Dominick scoffs, furious. “Unbelievable.”

Annelly’s breath stutters against my chest—a soft, fragile sound that breaks something in me.

I lower my chin and press a subtle kiss into her hair. It’s a quiet promise. A vow that I’ll stand between her and anything that tries to hurt her, even as fear pulses in my chest like a second heartbeat.

I hate that Dominick is upsetting her.

Hate that he’s so hell-bent on being right, he’s stopped watching out for her altogether. 

And as wrung-out and overwhelmed as I am, I’m grateful that for once, someone else is stepping up to fight the battle for me.

Lucas steps in then, voice calm enough to slice through the tension. 

“If manpower is the issue, then we rally our allies. Pull support through Agent Hunt. Agent Halder. Tap into law enforcement if we have to.”

Dominick shakes his head, disbelief tightening every line of his body. “You’re all insane. We can’t trust the FBI. We can’t trust anyone—not with the kind of connections these people have.”

Ben considers that for a moment, then nods once.

“I agree with Lucas. We adapt. We trust Hunt and Halder. And as far as we know, Victor has no business or political ties to Virginia.” He exhales, jaw firming. “I’ll talk it through with Hunt, but… I’m thinking that’s our play.”

Dominick barks out a bitter laugh. “We know the FBI is compromised, Ben. That’s the entire damn point of this investigation. It’s why Hunt and Halder are working with us completely off the books in the first place.”

No one answers.

So he barrels on.

“And law enforcement?” He scoffs. “I spent the first years of my career on SWAT watching the brass bury evidence, protect the wrong people, hang good cops out to dry just to save their pensions. You loop in local PD or state police, and mark my words—Victor will have half those uniforms bowing to him before they even know they’ve been bought. All it takes is one call to the right judge, the right chief, the right political ally… and we’re done. Over. We won’t stand a fucking chance.”

Lucas doesn’t bristle. Doesn’t meet anger with anger. He just nods slowly, giving Dominick the space to feel heard.

“You’re right,” he says calmly. “We can’t trust the institutions.”

Dominick blinks. 

Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Lucas to agree.

Lucas continues, steady and precise. “Which is why we don’t loop in ‘the FBI’ or ‘law enforcement’ the way you’re picturing. We loop in two people—Hunt and Halder. They’ve already proven they can be trusted. So we let them handpick who touches this. They control the flow of information. We compartmentalize—need-to-know only. No big picture. No evidence or paper trail that leads back to her or to us.”

He leans in, tone quiet but razor-sharp. “We’re not handing over the op. We’re using them as force multipliers. Bodies. Badges. Jurisdictional cover. While we still run point.”

Then, softer but firm enough to end all argument, he adds, “This isn’t about trusting systems we know can be manipulated, Dom. It’s about weaponizing the few people on the inside we already know we can trust.”

The room goes quieter—not because Dominick agrees, but because Lucas just shifted the entire foundation of his argument out from under him.

Ben’s silence isn’t hesitation. It’s calculation. And when he finally speaks, the entire room seems to steady around him.

“Then it’s set. I’ll talk to Agent Hunt,” he says, tone decisive. “We’ll get the support we need.”

Dominick stiffens, ready to fire back, but Ben doesn’t give him room to argue.

“James is right. Sending her back puts her in more danger. And it risks our families. This is how we protect everyone. This is how we save Tyler.”

Lucas nods immediately, a sure gesture of agreement.

Zeb follows, jaw firm but supportive.

Even Owen looks up long enough to murmur, “Yeah. It’s the right call.”

Dominick is the last man standing on the wrong side of the argument.

He looks around the table like he’s waiting for someone—anyone—to wake up and realize he’s right. When no one does, he lets out a humorless laugh.

“Fine,” he spits out. “But I want it on record—I don’t agree. It’s a terrible plan. I just hope it doesn’t end up getting one of us killed.”

A shiver rolls through Annelly where she’s tucked against me, and if I didn’t hate the motherfucker before, I sure as hell do now.

I hate that he said it where she could hear.

I hate that he might be right.

But mostly, I hate that I don’t have any fight left in me to tell him to shut the hell up.

I’m too tired. 

Too sad. 

Too goddamn scared.

I shift her slightly, grounding myself in the steady rise and fall of her breath. My hands slide along her waist, reassuring myself she’s still here. Still safe. Still with me.

“Just find my brother,” I say quietly, my voice rough with exhaustion. “That’s our primary objective. The only thing that matters now.”

I lower my head and brush a soft kiss against her temple—a quiet signal that we’re done here. Her shoulders loosen, just a touch, but it’s enough that relief hits me hard.

For now at least, she still trusts me.  

I pause, taking a moment to look at the men who’ve been an integral part of my life for nearly a decade. They look just as drained as I feel. Just as hollowed out from the events of the past few hours. 

But for the first time, I don’t just see co-workers I call brothers because it’s what’s expected.

For the first time, I see men who finally—actually—feel like friends. Men who get me. Who support me.

All except Dominick. 

But fuck it. 

As the saying goes, you can’t win them all.

“We’re going upstairs,” I tell them. “Don’t bother us unless it’s with news of my brother.”

And as much as it kills me to leave Tyler’s fate in someone else’s hands—even the men I trust most in this world—I force myself to let go and choose instead to trust. To believe in my team. To have faith they’ll find him—help me save him.

So I take her hand, lace my fingers through hers, and without waiting for permission or even a goodbye, I lead her away and up the stairs.

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