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“My car’s not even here, and that would be kidnapping.”
Thorn glared. “I’m also aware you could call an Uber, but you’re forgetting I’m four thousand years old and I don’t give a shit about your legal definitions.”
Rook watched Ethan’s jaw tighten, recognizing the stubborn set of his shoulders. Ethan wasn’t going to back down, and Thorn wasn’t going to compromise. The whole thing would escalate badly unless someone intervened.
“What if Ethan stays in the extraction vehicle?” Rook heard himself say. “With Silas. Outside the perimeter. Not in the building itself.”
Thorn turned that ancient gaze on Rook. “I’ve already said no.”
“Hear me out.” Rook kept his voice level, which was an effort given the circumstances. “Silas needs to coordinate from a mobile position anyway. Ethan can provide real-time analysis of guard behavior through the surveillance feeds. If something goes wrong, Silas gets him out immediately.”
“If something goes wrong, Silas will be occupied trying to keep us alive.” Thorn crossed his arms. “I’m not risking a beacon on their first operation.”
“You risked Julian.”
“Julian walked into an active firefight without asking permission.” Thorn’s expression tightened. “That’s not the precedent we’re using here.”
“Ethan’s offering practical support from a secure position.” Julian closed his laptop. “It’s actually more controlled than my involvement was.”
Cillian nodded. “Without Julian’s help - unauthorized as it was - we’d still be stuck in that damn suppression cage.”
Thorn looked between them, his jaw working. Finally, he exhaled. “Extraction vehicle only. Silas keeps him out of camera range. At the first sign of trouble, Silas evacuates him back here. Nonnegotiable.”
“Agreed.” Ethan’s relief showed only in the slight relaxation of his shoulders. “When do we leave?”
“Twenty-two hundred hours.” Thorn returned his attention to the displays. “That gives us four hours to prepare. Rook, you’re on point. Cillian takes the upper level, I’ll secure the perimeter. Silas coordinates from the van with Ethan.”
From there, it was all just a mess of logistics. Rook knew he should be paying attention, but when it was all said and done, they would go in and get the job done, because that’s what guardians did. Silas pulled building schematics, identifying entry points and potential escape routes. Thorn disappeared into his own rooms, probably debating every life decision that had led to their current point. Julian offered to cross-reference Fiona’s phone records with known associates of Grant Voss.
Rook found himself standing beside Ethan, watching the preparations unfold around them.
“You didn’t have to argue for me.” Ethan kept his voice low. “Thorn’s concerns are valid. I am a liability in a fight.”
“You’re not.” Rook’s shadows drifted toward Ethan, seeking contact. “I think you’re rather brilliant, and while I’m not saying Silas couldn’t have found out the information you provided eventually, this way, there’s a good chance your friend will be safe by tomorrow. As for me, I’m terrified of you getting hurt, but I also know you keeping yourself safe is an ingrained habit you’re not going to drop at a moment’s notice.”
Ethan looked up at him, something uncertain in his expression. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you trust me? We barely know each other.”
Rook didn’t have words for the bone-deep certainty that Ethan belonged with him, that protecting Ethan mattered more than his own existence, that the thought of Ethan in danger made his shadows scream with possessive rage, but that he cared enough for his beacon to go against his own instincts.
“I just do,” he said finally. “Is that enough?”
Ethan studied him for a long moment. “For now.”
/~/~/~/~/
The hours before the operation crawled. Ethan was spending time with Julian, so Rook tried to distract himself in the kitchen, but even baking couldn’t settle the anxious energy coiling in his chest. He made sourdough, focaccia, and a batch of cinnamon rolls that emerged perfectly golden brown from the oven.
“You’re going to give us all diabetes.”
Cillian appeared in the doorway, his presence announced only by his voice.
“I’ve got to do something with my hands.” Rook pulled the cinnamon rolls from the oven. “Want one?”
“No.” Cillian leaned against the counter, his gaze intent. Seeing as that was Cillian’s default setting, Rook wasn’t worried. “You’re worried about tonight.”
