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"Seems like you've thought through every possibility," Duke said finally, voice mild. Too mild. "So what's your solution, Sergeant?"

Tyson was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. "There isn't a perfect solution. Every option has vulnerabilities."

"But some have less than others." Duke leaned forward. "Your place is compromised—whole town knows where the Heavy Kings' tactical officer lives. But hers is off their radar. Small building, but manageable. You know the neighborhood, the vulnerabilities. You're the best equipped to protect her."

The words hung in the air like a challenge. I felt Tyson go absolutely still behind me.

"You move in with her," Duke continued, each word deliberate. "Tonight. Non-negotiable."

"Duke—" he started.

"It's logical," Duke cut him off. "You've already proven you know her building inside and out. You're the only one who can provide consistent, professional protection. Unless there's some reason you can't?"

The question laid there like a trap. Everyone waited. I stared at my coloring book, the purple unicorn now looking garish and wrong. My chest felt too tight, like someone was sitting on it.

"This is a bad idea," Tyson said finally.

The words hit like a physical blow. Here I'd been replaying that kiss in the storage room, the way he'd held me like I was precious, the heat in his eyes when he'd said he wanted me. And now he couldn't even stand the thought of being near me.

Of course not. Why would he want to babysit the broken girl with the dangerous past? The kiss had been adrenaline, nothing more. Now, in the cold light of the meeting room, he was remembering who I really was.

The purple-haired baby who brought nothing but trouble.

"It's the best option we have," Duke said, tone brooking no argument. "Unless you're compromised in some way? Something affecting your judgment?"

"No," Tyson said, the word ground out like broken glass. "Nothing's affecting my judgment."

"Good. Then it's settled." Duke's gaze swept the table. "Tyson moves in tonight. We'll work out the other details—shop security, protocols, response plans. But priority one is keeping Lena breathing."

I found my voice, small and uncertain. "Don't I get a say?"

Duke's expression softened marginally. "Of course you do, darlin'. But facts are facts. You've got Serpents throwing your past through windows. This isn't about your independence—it's about keeping you alive long enough to still have independence."

He was right. I knew he was right.

"Now that protection's sorted," Duke said, and I noticed how he emphasized sorted like it was final, "we need to discuss retaliation."

The energy in the room shifted, testosterone levels spiking like someone had thrown raw meat to wolves. Members sat up straighter, eyes sharpening.

"Fuckers need to burn," Rex growled, cracking his knuckles. "That photo—that's psychological warfare. Can't let it stand."

"Agreed," Tyson said, and I could hear him forcing himself back into tactical mode, emotions locked down tight. "But on our timeline. We hit them when they're weak, not when they're expecting it."

He moved from behind my chair, pacing to the side where I could finally see him. His face was carved granite, all sharp angles and controlled fury. The bloody knuckles stood out stark against his skin as he gestured at the table.

"So we just sit on our hands?" someone demanded. "Let them think we're weak?"

"We let them think they're winning," Tyson corrected. "While we gather intel. Find their soft spots. Cruz—he's the key. How's he connected? What's his value to them? Why now?"

The questions hung in the air, each one another piece of the puzzle he was assembling in that tactical mind.

"Could hit their cook houses," Thor suggested. "Disrupt their income."

"Too obvious. They'll have those locked down tight after tonight."

"What about their bikes?" Dex offered. "Nothing hurts more than chrome and steel in pieces."

"Sends a message, but not the right one. Makes us look petty."