Her.
Seven years of watching from shadows. Seven years of protecting without her knowledge, eliminating threats she never knew existed. And now the universe opens a door for me.
The strategist in my head is already calculating variables: loss of objectivity, emotional compromise, and conflict of interest. Every protocol I have written says this assignment should go to someone else. Someone who can maintain professional distance. Someone who will not burn the world down if she gets hurt.
The rest of me is already through that door.
"I will take it."
"You don't even know the full details yet." Kade's voice carries a note of something, suspicion, maybe, or just the careful attention of a team leader who has learned to read his people. "The judge is—"
"I said I'll take it."
Silence stretches between us. On the primary monitor, she stands from the couch and moves toward the stairs. On the secondary, the sedan remains dark and still. Now two threats, or one threat and a coincidence. But I don't believe in coincidences.
"Cole." Kade's tone shifts, commanding now. "You didn't ask about location, timeline, threat assessment, or whether this is close protection or consultation. Tell me what's going on."
What's going on is that I have been waiting seven years for this moment without knowing I was waiting.
"When does Castellano want to meet?"
"Tonight. He's already headed back to her house. But I need to know if there's a conflict of interest." The pause is deliberate. "The judge is Angelina Castellano. Do you know her?"
Hearing her name in someone else's mouth,Angelina Castellano, spoken aloud in the space between professional colleagues, makes her real in a way seven years of surveillancenever did. She existed in isolation on my screens. My secret. My obsession. My penance for leaving.
Now her name is in Kade's voice, attached to a case file and a threat assessment, and she is becoming real in the world outside my head.
Three seconds pass. The city lights blur in the window's reflection as I consider my response. The strategic play is obvious. Acknowledge the connection, recuse myself, and let someone with clearer objectivity take the assignment.
The strategic play can go to hell.
"We knew each other." My voice comes out level, controlled. "College. It was a long time ago. It won't be a problem."
Another pause. I can almost hear Kade weighing my words against whatever instinct is telling him something is off. He is too good a leader to miss the tension underneath my careful phrasing.
"Are you certain? Because I can assign—"
"No." The word comes out harder than I intended. I take a breath, recalibrate. "I am the best choice for this. My familiarity with her background is an asset, not a liability. I understand her world."
I have been studying her world for seven years. I know what time she turns off the lights and which neighbors she waves to. I know the rhythm of her life better than she does.
On the primary monitor, she disappears up the stairs, climbing toward the parts of her home I cannot see. The bedroom where she sleeps. The space where she exists beyond my carefully positioned cameras.
Soon, that won't matter. Soon, I'll be inside.
"Any updates on Roman?" I ask, redirecting before Kade can probe further.
The shift works. His voice changes, weariness bleeding through the professional mask. "Nothing solid. Could be alive,could be covering tracks. Frost is convinced he's running his own operation off-grid. Alina thinks—" He stops, and I hear him exhale. "The team is still divided."
"Keep me informed."
"I will. Now, the judge lives in Piedmont. Sal's already en route back to the house. He'll meet you there for the initial assessment. I'm texting you the address."
Mountain View Drive. I know the exterior of that house better than my own apartment. I know which windows face east, which trees provide cover, which angles give me the best view of her living room. I know everything except what the air smells like inside.
"Understood. I am on my way."
"Cole." Kade's voice catches me before I can end the call. "If this assignment is going to compromise you—"