Page 53 of Brox Boar

Under the covers, Lana shifts. A small sound escapes her throat, somewhere between a sigh and a protest. She’s awake. Or close to it.

I know without looking that she’s heard enough. Her head lifts slowly. She blinks, disoriented, then focuses on Brox.

“No,” she says.

Just that. Simple.

“No, what?” Brox asks.

She pushes up onto one elbow, hair tousled, eyes still hazy with sleep but burning steady.

“No, I’m not going home,” she clarifies. “I’m not leaving.”

Her voice isn’t raised, but it lands heavy.

“This place isn’t safe,” Brox says. “Lana, you know what we are.”

“I’m staying,” she says. “You said from now on access to me will be locked. And my protection will be enforced. I believe you.”

“You don’t get to make this simple,” I tell her. “You realize that?”

“I’m not trying to make anything simple,” she replies. “I’m saying I’m not leaving. That’s all.”

Brox stares at her, eyes harder than usual.

“People around us die,” he says bluntly. “This life does that. You nearly died, twice.”

Her gaze darts briefly to me, then back to him.

“I’m not stupid,” she goes on. “I know this can end badly. I also know walking away won’t magically make me safe. Morales is dead. The other one, Alessio, knows me. He knows my face. He fucked me, for God’s sake. You think living alone in my flat is going to make me untouchable?”

Brox looks away for a moment, his jaw working.

It hits me then–he doesn’t know how to handle this. This open need. He can manage enemies, money, legal documents, gun shipments, bribes. He can cut men down with a look. He has no script for a woman curled in his bed, telling him she chooses him and everything that comes with him.

“We keep her here,” I say softly, more to him than to her. “We build layers around this floor. Extra cameras. Extra measures.”

He looks at me, then at her again, then exhales.

“Fine,” he says. “But you do what we say when we say it. No arguments.”

She nods once. “I already do.”

“That includes security decisions,” he adds. “If I say move, you move.”

“I’m not suicidal,” she says. “Just stubborn.”

“We noticed,” I mutter.

Her eyes dance briefly, despite the seriousness of the moment.

My cell buzzes on the nightstand, the vibration rattling against the wood. I reach over and grab it, my thumb swiping over the screen.

Message from Sol. ‘Found someone for the penthouse. Shiaou Lin.’

I smile, look at Brox, and Lana, before I respond. ‘Bring him up now.’

“Just in time.” I kiss Lana on her forehead. “Brox—make coffee. We have an interview with Shiaou Lin.”