Lucas
I rub my thumb over the edge of my phone as I watch her little location dot ping onto the map. Safe, for now.
"Don't confuse vigilance with control," Darius says. "You can't put her in a box and keep the world out."
"I know," I mutter.
But knowing doesn't make the fear less suffocating.
Later that night, the gym is mostly empty. Just the three of us closing up, music low, lights half-dimmed.
Theo throws a towel over his shoulder. "So when are you telling her?" he asks.
I pretend not to understand. "Telling who what?"
"Don't be dense," he says. "Telling Aria that the reason you freak out every time she walks outside alone is because you're chasing a trafficking ring that might already be stalking her."
"No," I say flatly. "She doesn't get pulled into this."
"Newsflash, man," Theo says, sitting up. "She's already in this. Her protests, her posts, her whole profile—she's the exact kind of girl they like. Loud. Visible. Disappear her and people talk, but they talk about her choices, not the men who took her."
My jaw clenches. "That's why we're here."
Darius crosses his arms. "We can't guard her every second. She needs to know enough to be cautious."
"She's cautious now," I argue. "She texts. She shares her location. She doesn't walk alone late."
"She still goes where the noise is," Darius says quietly. "That's who she is."
I know he's right.
But the idea of sitting her down and saying Hey, remember those missing posters you scroll past? That's my mission. That's my ghost. And now they might be looking at you—
No.
I spent years building this façade. The broken vet with a gym and a bad attitude. It's believable. Harmless. The enemy doesn't question it.
If I start pulling Aria into that world, I paint a target on her from both sides.
"She deserves the truth," Darius presses.
"She deserves to finish college and post stupid memes and fall for a guy who isn't dragging a war around behind him," I snap.
Silence drops like a weight.
Theo whistles low. "Yeah," he says. "Too bad she picked you anyway."
I rub my forehead, feeling a headache clawing its way in.
"I won't let them touch her," I say finally. "That's the only truth that matters."
Darius studies me for a long moment, then nods once.
"All right," he says. "Then we find a way to keep her safe without clipping her wings."
Aria
The month rolls forward on the back of discomfort.
The protests get bigger and louder. The new law—that surveillance one we marched against—is passing through all its stages like a snake sliding through tall grass. There's a rally on campus, a televised debate, endless online arguments that feel increasingly pointless.
Zara throws herself into research.
She builds spreadsheets of missing women—dates, last spotted locations, descriptions. It's horrifying seeing it all lined up. Names turning into patterns.
"We're not detectives," I tell her one night as we sit cross-legged on my floor, laptops open, takeout boxes scattered around.
"No," she says. "We're witnesses. That's almost worse."
She scrolls. "Look at this. Three girls from different neighbourhoods, different backgrounds. The only thing connecting them? Last seen at bars near the harbour or seaside clubs."
"So water," I say slowly. "They like the water."
"It's easy to move people on boats," Zara says quietly. "No one checks the river at 2 a.m."
I shiver. "You sound like a villain in a crime show."
"I sound like someone who reads too much about how the world actually works," she replies.
My phone dings with a new notification.
Maya: beach party this weekend at Seaglass Pier 🤩 u & Z coming?? everyone's going
Zara sees the preview over my shoulder and snorts. "Speak of the devil. Literally: seaside club."
"It's a party, not a trafficking expo," I say, but the joke comes out thin.
Zara chews her lip. "I know we can't stop living because monsters exist. But if we go… we go smart. We go in a group. We stay together. No wandering off with strangers. And we leave before 2 a.m., no matter how good the music is."
"So… normal safety rules?" I say.
"Normal safety rules," she echoes. "Except this time, we actually follow them."
I nod, dread mixing with a flicker of excitement. The idea of a beach party—music, lights, sea breeze—sounds like the perfect break.
And, if I'm honest, a tiny stupid part of me wonders how Lucas would react if he saw me in a bikini.
I push that thought down and focus on Zara's screen instead.
"Do you think Lucas knows about this kind of stuff?" I ask.
She leans back. "He has that whole 'I've seen some things' vibe. I bet if you asked him about human trafficking, he'd give you a scary, detailed answer and then insist you never leave your house again."
"Don't tempt me," I sigh. "He already texts me like an overprotective… something."
"Boyfriend," Zara says.
"Warden," I correct. "A very hot warden with unresolved emotional issues."
She cackles.
"Are we telling him about the party?" she asks.
I hesitate, then scroll back to Maya's message and type:
Me: Thinking about it. Let me check some stuff.
"I'll tell him," I say. "Eventually."
Zara gives me a look. "Eventually had better be before we're dancing on sand with drunk business bros."
I roll my eyes. "Yes, ma'am."
What I don't tell her is that I'm afraid he'll tell me not to go. And I don't know if I'll listen.
Lucas
She waits two days to tell me.
Two days of normal classes, normal training, normal pretending my subconscious isn't replaying the feel of her back against my chest when I fix her stance. Two days of flirting. Touching without a necessity.
Two days of the black sedan not showing up—which somehow scares me more than when it does.
Then, after class on Friday, when everyone else has filtered out and the gym smells like sweat and detergent and the faintest trace of her perfume, she fiddles with her wraps and says:
"So there's this party."
Every muscle in my body stiffens. "What party?"
"Beach thing," she says casually, badly. "Seaglass Pier. It's, like, a start-of-summer thing. Lots of people go. Music, fireworks, bad decisions."
"Then don't go," I say instantly.
Her eyes flash. "Wow. That was fast."
"Seaglass Pier is at the harbor." My voice sounds harsher than I intend. "You shouldn't be there after dark."
"There'll be hundreds of people," she argues. "I'll have Zara. And Maya. It's not like I'm planning to jump into a stranger's van for fun."
"That's not how it works," I snap.
She folds her arms, chin tilting. "Then explain it to me. Like I'm not an idiot."
I grit my teeth. This is exactly the conversation I didn't want to have.
"There have been disappearances," I say finally. "Women your age. Around clubs by the water. They get separated from their friends. They don't make it home."
Her skin pales. "You know this… how?"
I almost say because I'm hunting the people responsible but bite it back at the last second.
"News," I lie. "You're not the only one who reads things, Aria."
She studies me like she knows there's more, but lets it slide. For now.
"This is why you keep checking where I am," she says quietly. "You think I'll be one of those girls."
The idea makes my stomach twist. "I won't let that happen."
"It's not your choice," she says softly. "You can't guard every second of my life, Lucas."
"Watch me," I mutter.
She takes a step closer. We're toe-to-toe now. Her eyes are bright, frustrated, a little hurt.
"I want to go," she says. "I've been living in this weird bubble of training and protests and fear lately. I want one night where I can dance and scream-sing badly and feel the ocean. I'm not asking for your permission."
"Then why tell me?" I ask, voice rough.
Her answer is immediate. "Because I knew you'd worry. And I… don't want to keep you in the dark."
That hits something deep. She trusts me enough to want me informed. Even if she doesn't obey.
I exhale slowly. Darius's words echo in my head: Find a way to keep her safe without clipping her wings.
"Fine," I say at last.
She blinks. "Fine?"
"You go," I say. "With Zara. With a group. You send me your location when you get there. You don't leave with anyone, you don't go anywhere alone, you keep your drink in your hand or you don't drink at all. You leave by one a.m. Latest."
Her lips tremble like she's bitten the inside of her cheek to stop a smile. "Yes, Dad."
"I'm serious, Aria." I block her against a wall.
"I know," she says, eyes softening. "And… thank you."
"I didn't say I like it," I grumble.
"But you're letting me live," she whispers. "That counts."
She reaches up and touches my arm—a light brush of fingers over muscle. My whole body goes taut.
"If you're that worried…" she says, mischief glinting through her concern, "you could always come."
The image of me lurking at a beach party like some grim reaper of vibes almost makes me laugh.
"I'd scare your friends," I say.
"Good," she replies. "Most of them need scaring."
I shake my head, but a small, reluctant smile tugs at my mouth.
"I'll think about it," I say.
"Okay." She says eyes still on mine. "Then I'll see you tomorrow. Try not to spiral."
"That's not a word we use in this gym," I protest.
She grins. "It is now." The gym is so quite I could almost hear my heart beat thudding this close to her. Her eyes turn slutty and tortures. My traitorous eyes glance at her parted lips. Then back to her eyes. She stares at me expectantly. I could hear her heart beat ticking up.
She doesn't have any idea how much I want to taste those lips. Grab her face and kiss her until her lips go numb. Rip off that skin tight shirt and touch her breasts. Ruin her in this very spot. The one thing she expects me to cross and my aching groan knows how much I want to.
I curl my fingers in to fists on the wall. Closing my eyes shut.
"You won't do it. Do you?" she gulps. "If I end up disappearing coach, you'll regret for never doing it"
My heart drops. Hot flares shoot up to my head. I grab her face from behind her hair in a tight grip. She groans and grasps. Her face half swallowed in my hand. So small and fragile. "Damn it, Aria" But before I could complete, she pushes me away and leaves.
I punch the wall so hard my knuckles bleed.
Theo steps out from behind a column—because of course he was eavesdropping.
"She wasn't wrong, you know" he comments but with caution.
"I. will. Protect. Her." I groan.
"But you are hurting her anyway" Darius replies.
I was ready to throw a punch if one of them say another word about her hurting. The environment felt heavy. Dangerous. The last thing any of us want is to fight against each other.
"So, field trip?" Theo asks trying to ease the air.
"Absolutely not," I grumble.
He leans against the wall. "You and I both know you're gonna end up on that beach."
Darius joins us, expression serious.
"If she's going," he says, "we're going."
I look between them. My brothers. My backup. The only people who know exactly what kind of monsters we're dealing with.
Seaglass Pier. Water. Music. Crowds. Perfect cover.
Perfect hunting ground.
"For once," Theo says quietly, "we might be able to choose the battlefield."
My hand curls into a fist. Fine.
If the traffickers want to hunt there, then so do I.
"We go," I say at last. "We stay invisible. If nothing happens, she never has to know we were there."
"And if something does?" Darius asks.
I picture Aria in the dark, surrounded by strangers, her bright laugh cut off by a hand over her mouth.
Rage flares so hot my vision blurs.
"If something does," I say, voice low and lethal, "I'll make sure they never touch another woman again."