Blood and loyalty have always guided my decisions. Emotions don’t have a place at the table. But that was before Cecily burst into my life, before she began demanding more than I was ever willing to give.

I should have shut this down already. Every instinct tells me keeping her out of this war is the only way to ensure she survives it. But instincts don’t change the reality I’m facing. Cecily isn’t backing down. And whether I like it or not, she’s right.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I glance across the conference table where Cecily sits with her gaze locked on the map sprawled across the surface.

She’s been quiet while Maksim and Aleksei go over the latest intel, but I see the way her fingers curl against the table’s edge and the way her eyes narrow when certain names are mentioned.

She’s thinking, turning over every detail, analyzing.

The same way I do.

Maksim clears his throat. “We’ve got scattered reports of movement near the dockyards. Thorne’s people are making themselves known, but not in any obvious way. They’re testing us. Pushing at the edges, looking for cracks.”

“Then we seal those cracks,” Aleksei declares. “We can’t let them think they’re making progress.”

I nod as I consider the angles. The dockyards are too valuable to leave vulnerable. We need better surveillance and more intelligence. Every move Thorne makes should be one we have already anticipated.

“We need eyes on the ground,” Maksim continues. “We’ve been running surveillance, but it’s not enough. We need someone close to his network, someone who can get in and feed us real-time information.”

Cecily straightens in her chair. “Then I have an idea.”

The words come out steady and confident. I almost smirk at how quickly she’s learned to assert herself in these rooms, but I don’t. Instead, I just sit back and wait. I’ve learned over the last few days that she doesn’t speak up unless she has something to contribute.

Maksim glances at me before looking back at her. “Let’s hear it.”

She leans forward and taps the map, right where the dockyards stretch into the industrial district. “My father isn’t going to make a direct move yet. That’s not his style. He’s sending people in to plant the seeds, to establish leverage before he acts. But there’s a way to get ahead of him.”

She redirects her focus to me, and I feel that familiar pull—like she’s daring me to deny her before she’s even finished talking.

“We should let him think he has the upper hand,” she continues. “Set up an operation that feeds him the intel he wants. Something believable but controlled. A false leak. Let him bite, and when he does, we use the opportunity to track it back to him.”

I stare at her, unwilling to admit how good the idea is. I don’t want to encourage her continued involvement even if she is damn good. The idea of putting my wife in danger just doesn’t sit right with me.

Aleksei rubs his chin. “You’re suggesting we set a trap.”

“Exactly,” Cecily confirms. “But not an obvious one. It has to be layered. He doesn’t trust easily, but if he thinks he’s getting information from someone weak, someone desperate, he’ll take the bait.”

Maksim clicks his tongue and chuckles. “It’s not a bad idea. But who do you suggest we use as bait?”

“That’s the part we have to be careful with. If we make it too obvious, he’ll sniff it out. We need someone believable.”

My mind is already turning over possibilities, weighing the risks. It’s a good plan. A damn good plan. But that’s not the problem. The problem is her.

She’s sitting here, laying out strategies like she’s been doing this her whole life. And maybe, in a way, she has. She grew up under Thorne. She’s watched him manipulate people like chess pieces. She knows how to play the game, maybe even better than some of my men.

But that doesn’t mean I want her playing it.

“You’re not going into the field,” I remind her before she can even entertain the thought.

“I wasn’t asking to.”

That surprises me. I squint my eyes and tilt my head to look at her. “Then what exactly are you asking?”

“To be part of the operation, I know how my father thinks and how he will react to different kinds of bait. I can help organize the setup to make it seem real. You need someone who understands his patterns, his paranoia. That’s me.”

She’s right. Again.

I glance at Maksim, who watches Cecily closely. He’s still wary, but I can tell he sees the logic in what she’s saying. Aleksei, too.

I exhale through my nose as I weigh my options. The answer should be no. Keeping her away from this war should be my priority. But the reality is, she’s already in it.

I set my hands flat on the table. “You’ll be in the operations center. Nowhere else.”

Cecily blinks, clearly surprised I’m not outright refusing her. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means you’ll help set up the strategy, oversee the flow of information, and work with Maksim to monitor everything as it plays out. You’ll be involved—but from here.”

She exhales, and for the first time since this conversation started, I see something in her eyes that doesn’t fill me with exhaustion. Not victory. Not defiance. Something closer to understanding.

“Okay,” she concedes. “I can work with that.”

Aleksei watches me, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s been quiet through most of this, letting Maksim take the lead. But I know him well enough to recognize when something’s bothering him.

I don’t acknowledge it. Not yet.

Cecily glances between us, then settles her attention back on the map. “We need to pick the right leak. Something that feels like a mistake but still holds enough value for Father to bite.”

Maksim hums in agreement. “We can fabricate a shipment schedule. Make it look like we’ve got vulnerabilities in our supply chain.”

Cecily nods. “That could work. But it has to be fed through the right channels. He doesn’t take information from just anyone. He has specific informants. We need to use one of them.”

Aleksei crosses his arms. “We have someone in mind. We’ll handle that part.”

She doesn’t push. Smart. She knows how to pick her battles.

“If we’re doing this, we need to move fast,” Maksim suggests. “Thorne won’t sit idle forever.”

I stand, signaling the end of the discussion. “We move now. Maksim, start working on the leak. Cecily, you’ll coordinate from the operations center.”

Cecily watches me for a beat longer, like she’s still processing that I gave in, even a little. Then she nods.

“Let’s get to work.”

Over the next few hours, Cecily absorbs every detail like she was made for this.

She keeps up as Maksim and I go through the steps, pinpointing weak spots and dissecting the strategy from every angle.

She doesn’t just listen—she contributes.

She flips through documents, pulls up files, and pushes back on ideas when they don’t line up with how Thorne operates.

The more she speaks, the more I see it. This is instinct. She grew up in a world of deceit and manipulation, and unlike my men, she’s survived it firsthand without letting her turn her bitter or vile.

And she’s good.

Damn good.

We work deep into the night, hunched over maps and monitors in the operations center. Maksim takes the lead in setting up our bait, while Cecily and I review surveillance patterns and recent intelligence.

She doesn’t complain about the hours or the monotony of combing through data.

She reads through reports with a dedication that makes it clear she’s committed to seeing this through.

Every so often, she asks a question that makes Maksim pause, and it leads us to reconsider angles we might’ve overlooked.

When she’s like this—completely focused, entirely in her element—it’s impossible not to watch her.

“This informant,” she says, pointing to a name on a roster of Thorne’s known contacts. “You said he’s unreliable.”

Maksim leans back, rubbing the back of his neck. “He runs his mouth. Half the time, he’s just trying to get attention. The other half, he’s drunk.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s useless.” Cecily glances at me. “If he’s stupid enough to exaggerate his intel, he’s desperate enough to believe he’s onto something big. He could be the perfect leak.”

She’s not wrong. The best way to feed Thorne bad information is through someone who already struggles to be taken seriously. Someone he’ll want to verify before he acts on because some of the time, he does get it right.

I tip my head at Maksim. “Set up a meeting. Feed him just enough that Thorne gets curious.”

Maksim nods and steps out to make the call. The second he’s gone, Cecily reaches for another file and flips it open. She studies the route we’ve laid out for our fake shipment and traces a path along the map.

“This still feels too clean,” she comments.

I glance at the diagram. “How so?”

“You’ve covered all the obvious approaches, but my father doesn’t go for the obvious. If I were him, I wouldn’t hit the shipment directly.” She taps a location just outside the primary route. “I’d interfere at a secondary point. Force a detour. That’s where he’d strike.”

She’s right again.

I exhale and lean back, observing as she continues going over the data. Each time I push her away, she proves why I shouldn’t. She notices things I don’t, predicts moves my men wouldn’t anticipate.

I should be annoyed by that. Instead, I find it thrilling.

And that’s a problem.

I should step back and keep my focus on the mission, not on the way she leans in, the way her fingers move lightly over the pages as she considers possibilities, or the way her eyes flash with excitement every time she pieces something together.

Instead, I just watch her.

Cecily is completely engrossed in what she’s doing, but then, as if sensing my stare, she glances up.

Her lips part, and there’s an energy in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

She’s alive in a way I haven’t seen yet, like for the first time since she was dragged into my world, she’s in control of something.

“This,” she says, pressing a finger against the map. “This is where we should focus. We give my father the illusion of control while setting the trap before he even realizes it’s been laid.”

Maksim returns just in time to hear her last words. He sets his phone down on the table and says, “The contact agreed to meet. We’ll feed him the intel tomorrow night.”

I nod but don’t look away from Cecily. “You want to be involved? Then walk me through it.”

She doesn’t blink an eye before continuing. “If my father thinks there’s a weak point, he won’t act immediately. He’ll want to confirm the information before he makes a move. That’s our window.”

Maksim makes a sound of approval. “Makes sense. He’s been careful since Redwood Point. Probably hoping we’ll believe it was just Kovalev acting alone. If he sees an opportunity, he’ll send someone else in first. Just like he did with Kovalev.”

“Which is why we need to be ready before that happens,” Cecily continues. “We monitor every person who gets within a mile of that point. We make sure we’re in place before his men even realize what’s happening.”

She reaches for another set of documents and shuffles through them like she knows just what she’s looking for.

She’s good at this—so good that it makes me wonder how much of it is instinct and how much of it is survival.

How many times did she have to predict her father’s next move just to stay ahead of his punishments?

I tell myself it doesn’t matter and that the only thing that matters is the intel she can provide. That’s where my focus should be.

Instead, I focus on her.

She pauses as something catches her attention. Her breath quickens, and her fingers tighten around the edge of a report. Then she looks up with excitement ablaze in her beautiful hazel eyes. “Wait. Look at this.”

I lean in before I even register I’m doing it. When my shoulder I get a whiff of her scent—something soft and warm, like fresh laundry dried in the sun. It shouldn’t be such a distraction, but the combination of her proximity and that fucking smell is like a drug.

“What is it?” I manage to ask.

She slides the document toward me and points at a line buried within paragraphs of data. “This. One of my father’s associates rented a property two miles from the last safehouse he was using. It’s under a different name, I recognize it as one of his aliases.”

Maksim swears under his breath. “That’s too much of a coincidence.”

“It’s him,” Cecily insists. “Or it’s someone close enough to give us what we need.”

I let the moment stretch between us. She’s waiting for my response, for me to acknowledge that this is real, that she just found something we wouldn’t have seen if she wasn’t involved.

I should be thinking about the logistics of what comes next, focusing on how we can use this information to corner Thorne. Yet, all I can think about is the way she’s looking at me right now.

Pride.

She’s proud of what she just uncovered, and she should be. It’s the best lead we’ve had in weeks. And I should acknowledge that.

But what I want to do is something else entirely.

I pat her on the back like she’s one of my men. Something casual, something to show my appreciation without revealing how affected I am by her. “Good work.”

It’s not enough. Not for her. Not for me.

But it’s all I can allow myself right now.

Still, a small smile ghosts over her lips before she turns back to the map. She’s still studying the data, still discussing possible next steps, but I can feel that something is changing between us. It is shifting, becoming something neither one of us expected.

I should walk away. Should leave her to keep working. Should make it clear that this—whatever this pull is between us—means nothing.

Instead, I watch her.

And I let myself feel it, just for a moment.

The thrill of the hunt. The promise of the kill. And the rush of finally finding a partner who can keep up.