Page 16

FINN

M y brothers arrive like a storm front, five vehicles appearing at staggered intervals over the course of an hour. A tactical approach we developed years ago, when our military training overlapped briefly before we each found our own paths.

Sawyer first, the eldest, his sheriff's SUV carrying the weight of legal authority and enough firepower to outfit a small army.

Then Elias, the game warden whose knowledge of these forests rivals my own.

Boone arrives third, his medical kit more comprehensive than most emergency rooms. Luke follows, the youngest and our best long range marksman despite his quiet demeanor.

The McKenna brothers, reunited for a single purpose. To eliminate a threat to someone under our protection.

I watch from the deck as they gather in the clearing, a family reunion with tactical gear instead of casseroles. Nova stands beside me, silent but observant, taking in the family resemblance that runs through all of us. The height, the build, the watchful eyes that miss nothing.

"They all look like you," she says quietly. "It's a little intimidating."

"McKenna genes run strong." I glance at her, gauging her reaction to the assembled firepower that represents my family. "You okay with all this?"

"You mean am I okay with five mountain men with military training hunting down my stalker?" She offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's better than the alternative."

The alternative. Both of us facing Vance alone, outmanned and vulnerable. Or worse, Nova facing him without me, if he managed to separate us.

The thought sends ice through my veins, hardening my resolve. This ends today. One way or another.

"Time to make introductions," I say, guiding her down the steps with a hand at the small of her back. A gesture too intimate for mere client and protector, but I'm beyond caring what my brothers might notice.

They fall silent as we approach, five pairs of McKenna blue eyes assessing Nova with a mixture of curiosity and protective instinct. I know what they see. A beautiful woman who looks nothing like the glamorous pop star from magazine covers and billboards. Simpler. Softer. More real.

"Nova," I say, "meet the McKenna brothers. Sawyer, Elias, Boone, Cade you know, and Luke."

She steps forward with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to being the center of attention, offering her hand first to Sawyer as the eldest. "Thank you for coming. I know this isn't how any of you planned to spend your day."

Sawyer takes her hand, his expression softening slightly. "Family business. No thanks needed."

"Still. I appreciate it."

The simple sincerity in her voice doesn’t go over their heads. They were probably expecting entitlement, fear or Hollywood dramatics. Not this straightforward gratitude from a woman facing down a killer with calm dignity.

I watch something shift in their expressions, a collective reassessment. Whatever they expected from Nova Wilde, this isn't it. And I feel a surge of irrational pride, as if her strength is somehow a reflection on me.

"Let's move inside," I say, not liking how exposed we are in the clearing. "We have planning to do."

They follow us into the cabin, bringing with them the controlled energy of men accustomed to dangerous situations. Within minutes, the living room has been transformed into a tactical headquarters, maps spread across the coffee table, weapons checked and rechecked, communication devices tested.

Nova watches it all with quiet interest, staying close to my side but not interfering. Observing the swift efficiency of brothers who have trained for situations like this since childhood.

"Alright," Sawyer says finally, taking natural command as the eldest. "What's our situation?"

I outline what we know about Vance. Ex-military with specialized training. Intimate knowledge of Nova's security protocols. Potentially in the area and watching the property. Dangerous, obsessed, and growing more desperate with each passing day.

"The tracks Cade found yesterday were approximately a mile east," I continue, pointing to the location on the topographical map. "Fresh enough to indicate he's still in the area, likely setting up observation posts to study our routines."

"If he's military trained, he won't approach blindly," Elias says, his forest ranger eyes scanning the map with professional assessment. "He'll establish multiple vantage points, determine our patrol patterns, look for blind spots."

"And he'll have escape routes planned," Boone adds. "Secondary and tertiary fallback positions if he's compromised."

"He won't expect this many of us," Luke says quietly, speaking for the first time. "That's our advantage."

"We need to sweep the perimeter," Sawyer decides, shifting into tactical planning. "Teams of two, grid search pattern. If he's watching, we flush him out. If he runs, we pursue. If he engages."

He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. We all know what happens if Vance is foolish enough to engage five McKenna brothers on their home territory.

"Nova stays in the panic room," I say, making it clear this point isn't up for debate. "Maximum security until this is resolved."

"I should be part of this," Nova interjects, surprising all of us. "He's after me. I could be used as bait."

"Absolutely not." The words come out harsher than I intended, my fear sharpening my tone. "That's not happening."

"It makes tactical sense," she argues, standing her ground in a room full of intimidating men. "Draw him out instead of playing hide and seek through miles of forest."

"She's not wrong," Elias says, earning himself a glare from me that would silence most men. "Strategically speaking, a controlled encounter would give us the advantage."

"It's too risky," I insist, fighting to keep my voice level. "We don't know his capabilities, his mental state, or how desperate he's become. I won't put Nova in his sights, not even as a decoy."

"It's my life," Nova says quietly but firmly. "My risk to take."

"No." Just one word, but it contains everything I can't say in front of my brothers.

The terror of potentially losing her. The knowledge that I couldn't survive it if something happened to her because of a plan I approved.

The depth of feeling that has everything to do with the way she's worked herself into my heart in less than a week.

She holds my gaze, challenge in her eyes, but something else too. Understanding. Acceptance. She's pushing because it's her nature to face threats head-on, but she'll yield to my expertise in this.

"Fine," she says finally. "Panic room it is. But I want regular updates. No keeping me in the dark while you're all out there risking your lives for me."

Relief washes through me, followed quickly by guilt at the realization that I was prepared to physically restrain her if necessary to keep her safe. That my protective instincts where she's concerned have crossed a line from professional to something far more primal.

"Hourly check-ins," I agree. "And you'll have direct communication with the main house at all times."

She nods, accepting this compromise. I turn back to my brothers, ignoring the knowing looks they exchange. They can think what they want. Right now, all that matters is keeping Nova safe and eliminating the threat Vance represents.

"We move in thirty minutes," I say, my mind shifting fully into operational mode. "Standard wilderness sweep protocol, maintain comm silence unless contact is made. Any questions?"

There are none. We've done this before, in various combinations, for different reasons. Military operations, search and rescue, hunting trips that became something more when we encountered threats in our territory.

"I'll get Nova settled in the panic room," I tell them. "Finish your preparations."

I guide Nova toward the master bedroom, where the entrance to the panic room is concealed behind a bookshelf. Her hand finds mine as we walk, fingers intertwining in a gesture that feels both strange and completely natural.

"Your brothers are intense," she says as we enter the bedroom. "But in a reassuring way."

"They're good men. The best I know." I press a hidden switch, and the bookshelf slides silently aside, revealing a steel door with a biometric lock. "This is it. Your home for the next several hours."

I press my thumb to the scanner, and the door unlocks with a soft click.

Inside is a space approximately twelve by fifteen feet, equipped with everything needed for extended shelter.

Bed, bathroom facilities, food and water stores, medical supplies, communication equipment, even a small entertainment center to combat boredom during long lockdowns.

"Wow," Nova says, stepping inside. "When you said panic room, I was picturing something a lot more spartan."

"I believe in being prepared." I follow her in, checking systems automatically. "Oxygen recyclers, independent power supply, secure communications, enough supplies for a month if necessary."

"You built a bunker inside your house."

"I built a safe place," I correct her. "Somewhere completely secure when everything else fails."

She turns to me, studying my face with that perceptive gaze that seems to see straight to my core. "You really have thought of everything."

"Not everything." I step closer, unable to help myself. "I never thought about who would be in here. Who I'd be protecting."

"And if you had?" Her voice drops lower, intimate in the confined space.

"I still wouldn't have imagined you."

My lover, hiding in my panic room while my brothers and I hunt down her stalker. A scenario so unlikely it would have seemed absurd a week ago.

And yet here we are. And somehow, despite the danger and the fear and the uncertainty of what comes next, it feels right that she's here. That I'm the one keeping her safe.

"Finn." She steps closer, her hand coming up to rest against my chest. "Be careful out there."

"Always am."