Chapter 10
Maps and satellite images cover the surface of the war room table through the built-in screen.
“The accountant will be here,” Aaiden says, tapping a spot on the blueprint that appears to be a warehouse office. “Jade and Caleb will take point on the extraction. Sebastian and Milo will coordinate remotely. Damien’s team will provide perimeter security.”
Caleb nods at me from across the table.
“Our intelligence suggests minimal security,” Aaiden continues, sliding a folder toward me. “With only a front and side entrance.”
I open the folder, finding surveillance photos of a balding man with wire-rimmed glasses. Tony’s accountant. The man who kept the books on the entire operation, including the trafficking ring that had me for two months.
“We need him alive,” Aaiden says. “He has information on all of Tony’s remaining accounts.”
“I’ll follow orders,” I say, studying the man’s image.
“This isn’t only about revenge,” Aaiden reminds me, as if he doesn’t quite trust me. “It’s about dismantling what’s left of Tony‘s operation.”
The room falls silent, and everyone turns to me, waiting for an explosion that doesn’t come. “Understood.”
The atmosphere shifts, and Sebastian leans back in his chair, exchanging a look with Damien that I can’t quite interpret. Liam, who’s been quiet throughout the briefing, raises an eyebrow.
Aaiden continues as if nothing unusual has happened and assigns roles to the rest of the team.
“Jade, you’ll handle the extraction.”
“The accountant will likely have bodyguards,” Sebastian interjects. “Tony won’t leave him vulnerable.”
“I can handle it,” I say.
“We know,” Aaiden replies, and his casual confidence warms me all over.
Raphael clears his throat. “What about cleanup? If Tony realizes we’ve taken his money man, it will spook him.”
“That’s part of the plan,” Aaiden says. “We need to flush him out.”
Caleb runs a hand through his reddish-brown hair. “We’ll need to be quick. In and out in under five minutes.”
“That’s why Jade is going in first,” Aaiden says. “He can identify the accountant and secure him while the rest of the team handles any resistance.”
My head snaps up. “You’re putting me in the lead?”
“You’re the best suited for it,” Aaiden replies without hesitation. “You’ve been working on close-quarter fighting.”
No one questions whether I’m stable enough or trustworthy enough. Caleb doesn’t argue, and Sebastian writes notes on his tablet, adapting the plan.
Aaiden looks around the table. “Any questions?”
“Extraction time?” Milo asks, spinning a pen between his fingers.
“Tomorrow night. The accountant follows a routine. We’ll take him where he’s most vulnerable.”
Chairs scrape back as the meeting concludes. Milo gathers folders while Sebastian closes his tablet.
Caleb moves to my side. “Just like old times. Except you’re taking point now.”
It isn’t like old times at all, though. Before, I was Caleb’s apprentice. Now, I’m being positioned as an equal.
The others file out, leaving Aaiden and me in the war room alone.
He collects the remaining papers, organizing them into a neat stack. “You have concerns.”
“Why put me in the lead?” I ask. “After everything that’s happened.”
Aaiden’s hands pause on the papers. “Because you’re the right person for the job.”
“Bullshit. Three days ago, you wouldn’t let me go on missions without a babysitter.”
“You’ll still have a babysitter. More than one.” He straightens, his shoulders squared. “At no point will you be alone.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll go off-script when I see someone connected to what happened to me?”
Aaiden’s jaw tightens. “You won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you gave me your word.” He steps closer, and the air between us charges. “And because you know what’s at stake.”
The dinner bell drifts from down the hall, the gentle chime disrupting the tension in the room. My mother’s timing, as always, is impeccable.
Aaiden gestures toward the doors. “We should join the others.”
I stand, and as we reach the door, his hand finds the small of my back, a fleeting touch that’s gone almost before I register it. But it leaves heat in its wake, a reminder of our new agreement.
“After dinner,” he murmurs, “we’ll go to my suite.”
My heart rate kicks up, though he remains all business. “Okay.”
The corners of Aaiden’s lips twitch as he holds the door open for me, and I shiver as I pass him, breathing in his pheromones.
My Alpha.
In the dining room, everyone has already started finding their seats, the scrape of chairs and soft conversation filling the room. Those who weren’t in on the meeting have drifted in, too, with Nolan hovering over Leo and their new baby.
I take three steps in the direction of my usual seat at the far end of the table when Aaiden’s voice cuts through the chatter. “Jade. Sit here.”
The order slices through the room like a blade. Conversations falter. Heads turn. I freeze mid-step and turn to find Aaiden at the head of the table, his hand resting on the back of the chair to his right.
My mother appears from the doorway, carrying a steaming dish. Her focus shifts between Aaiden and me, but her face reveals nothing as she sets the food down and disappears back through the door.
The silence stretches for two heartbeats before everyone pretends to resume their conversations as I change course, crossing to Aaiden’s side of the massive dining table.
The chair legs scrape across the hardwood floor as Aaiden pulls it out for me. I sink onto the cushion, and from here, I can see everyone clearly. No more blending in with the crowd.
Sebastian sits to my right, his scarred features impassive as he unfolds his napkin. Leo whispers to Nolan three seats down. Milo, always the most observant, takes everything in with interest, missing nothing.
“Wine?” Aaiden asks, already lifting the crystal decanter.
“Yes, please,” I mumble, and he fills my glass three-quarters full before serving himself.
My mother returns with a roast that fills the room with the rich aroma of rosemary and garlic. As she sets it before Aaiden for carving, she looks at me in question, but she stays quiet.
Aaiden slices the meat, the knife whispering through tender flesh. He serves me first, a larger portion than I would take for myself. He then adds a scoop of potatoes and roasted vegetables from the serving dishes without asking what I want.
A flush creeps up my neck under the weight of everyone’s attention.
This isn’t normal. This isn’t how things work in this house.
The hierarchy is clear. Aaiden first, then Sebastian, then the others, according to some invisible calculation.
I’ve always been at the end of the serving order, grateful to be included next to Ezra, the youngest Rockford, when I’m not related to them by blood or bond.
“Eat,” Aaiden murmurs as he serves himself.
I cut off a piece of meat, and the first bite melts in my mouth, rich and perfectly cooked. Aaiden watches from the corner of his eye as I chew and swallow, satisfaction crossing his face before he turns to his own plate.
“Pass the salt,” Liam requests from several seats away, his attention lingering on me a moment too long.
Conversation resumes, a forced normality settling over the table. But the undercurrent remains. The family dynamic has shifted, and everyone knows it.
Phoenix, seated beside Leo, tries not to stare in my direction, but he keeps peeking at us when he thinks I won’t notice. When our eyes meet, he focuses on buttering his roll with excessive concentration.
“So,” Leo says, trying to bring normalcy to our gathering despite the exhaustion clinging to him, “the weather report says rain tomorrow.”
“We’ll crack the window in our suite.” Nolan bounces the baby in his arms. “You can take a nap while listening to it.”
My knee accidentally brushes Aaiden’s under the table.
I freeze, about to pull away, when he presses his leg back against mine, maintaining the contact.
After so many times of him pulling back, this intentional touch, no matter how small, sends desire surging through me, and my fork scratches across my plate as I miss the potato I was aiming for.
Conversation falters.
“Keep eating,” Aaiden instructs, and I stab a potato, bringing it to my lips.
Damien sets down his water glass. “Okay, what is going on—”
Phoenix delivers an elbow to his side.
Damien jumps and shoots his mate a wounded pout. “What? Everyone’s thinking it.”
“Not now,” Phoenix mutters.
Aaiden continues eating as if no one spoke, but his shoulders square in a subtle warning Damien can’t miss.
My mother returns to refill the water glasses. There are house staff for this job, but she’s been working for this family for most of her life, raising every Rockford son as if they were her own.
When she reaches me, she pauses, her lips parting for a moment before she thinks better of it and moves on.
She knows the dynamic has changed, but she won’t demand answers in front of everyone else. Which is good, because I wouldn’t know how to respond.
“More potatoes?” Aaiden asks me, already lifting the serving spoon.
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
“You need to eat more,” he counters, adding another scoop.
I lean closer to hiss. “This is embarrassing.”
Aaiden doesn’t lower his voice. “Are you already disobeying?”
The flush reaches my cheeks as I shove another potato into my mouth.
Down the table, Milo’s eyebrows lift, and the hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips before he hides it behind his napkin.
I continue eating, comforted by Aaiden’s attention to my food intake. After months of picking at meals, losing weight I couldn’t afford to lose, his insistence is a tether pulling me back to health.
Aaiden refills my wine glass without asking, his attentiveness a statement without ever saying a word. It’s not a claim, but it’s a start. Aaiden isn’t ashamed of placing me at his side in front of the whole family, and that has to mean something.