Chapter 30
LUCAS
The war room at Dominion Hall was a fortress of strategy, the long oak table scarred from years of use, screens humming with data along one wall, maps pinned like enemies on the other. The air was cool, laced with the faint scent of leather from the chairs and the sharp tang of coffee.
I took a seat near the head, my back to the wall—habit from years of ops where you never left your six exposed.
Noah sat at one end, his expression unreadable, while Elias tapped away on his laptop, his fingers flying like they were chasing ghosts in the code.
Ryker leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his grin fading into focus.
Atlas settled in with a nod, his presence a steady anchor.
Natalie Kennedy entered last, her navy suit sharp as a blade, blonde hair pulled back in a way that said she was all business. She carried herself with the kind of authority that didn't need to shout—quiet power, the kind earned in boardrooms and backrooms alike.
Ethan watched her like she was the center of his world, his eyes soft but fierce, proud and protective in a way that hit me square in the chest.
I glanced around and saw it mirrored—the way Atlas's gaze flicked toward the door like he was checking on Anna back in the kitchen, a silent awareness; Ryker's hand twitching like he wanted to text Isabel.
Wives.
Wife.
The word slammed into me like a rogue wave.
Is that where this was going with Lexi? The thought twisted in my gut, part terror, part longing—a future I hadn't let myself imagine, but now it loomed, real and raw.
Ethan had found it with Natalie, a partnership that looked like strength wrapped in love.
Could I have that?
Did I deserve it?
Noah cleared his throat, pulling me back. "Let's get everyone up to speed. Lucas, walk us through what we've got so far."
I leaned forward, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. "Started with the bar incident at Pelicangate. Guy in a Navy uniform—aviator wings—slipped something into Lexi's drink. I intervened, took him down, got her out. No arrests, but the video went viral."
I paused, organizing the timeline in my head. "Next, Benji Dawes—her co-star—gets jumped at his rental. Attacker rants about Hollywood sin, poisoning souls, all that fanatic bullshit. Bruised him up good, but no serious damage."
"Then Hannah—Lexi's sister—gets attacked at their house on James Island. Intruder came through her bedroom window while she was sleeping, or left that way. Said Lexi's name, told Hannah to pass along a message: 'We'll be in touch.' She escaped, but she's shaken."
I looked around the table. "Could all be related—targeting the production—or separate incidents. Stalker for Lexi, copycat for the others. But my gut says connected."
Elias raised a finger without looking up from his laptop, his eyes scanning. "No-go on the aviator," he said, his voice flat. "No records of him in the Navy. Digging deeper into facial rec from the bar footage, but he's a ghost so far."
"Can you keep looking?" I asked.
"Already on it."
I nodded. "Appreciate it."
Natalie, who'd been listening intently, leaned forward. "You've got a mess on your hands. How can I help?"
I met her eyes, impressed by her directness. No posturing, just action. "Honestly? Not sure yet. We're piecing it together."
She wasn't mad, just thoughtful, her fingers tapping the table. "I know Dominion Hall has ties to the police, but I can poke a few places. Talk to my grandfather's old friends."
"Who's your grandfather?" I asked.
"One of Charleston's most storied former mayors," she said. "If there's a secret on the streets, he knows someone who might know where to look."
The room murmured agreement.
Ryker shifted his weight. "Worth a shot. Her connections could crack it open."
Atlas nodded. "Agreed. Let's loop in what we can."
The focus shifted back to Lexi, who sat beside me, sipping her coffee, taking it all in with those eyes that missed nothing.
I turned to her. "What do you think?"
She set her mug down, her voice quiet. "This is way outside my expertise. I'm just an actress."
I shook my head. "Bullshit. Nutjobs hassling stars is more in your domain than ours. You've dealt with this crap before. Give us your take."
The room leaned in, nods all around. She appreciated it—I could see it in the way her shoulders relaxed, like being asked meant something.
"Okay," she said, leaning forward. "Stalkers come in all shapes and sizes. The ones I've dealt with—or heard about—they build fantasies. They watch your movies, read every interview, convince themselves they know you."
She paused, choosing her words. "One time, a guy showed up at a premiere with a ring, said we'd been 'engaged' in his dreams. Security hauled him away, but he kept writing letters from jail."
"Another actress I know left the business because her stalker always knew her schedule, her phone number, even her hotel room. Turned out he was bribing a PA."
Her voice steadied. "It's not usually violence at first—it's obsession. They test boundaries, see how close they can get. If it's the same person hitting me, Hannah, Benji ... it's escalating. And if it's targeted at the film, it's personal. Someone who hates what we represent."
Her words landed heavy, the room absorbing them. She laid it out well—logical, experienced—and I soaked up every detail. The mentality of a stalker, an obsessed fan, a lunatic getting his kicks harassing beautiful stars. It gave me a clearer picture, a profile to hunt.
When she finished, she looked around. "Was that helpful?"
"Very," I said, meaning it. "Gives us a lens."
Natalie stood, checking her watch. "I'm late for an appointment, but on the way, I'll make some calls."
Lexi smiled at her. "Thank you."
I could see it—if given the chance, those two powerful women might become friends. The respect between them was palpable, like two forces recognizing each other.
The meeting broke up, chairs scraping as everyone rose. Noah hung back, his eyes on me and Lexi. "What do you two think?"
Lexi sighed. "Feels like we're even farther from knowing who attacked Hannah than before."
I shrugged. "I don't disagree. But that's how these things go—slow until a clue drops in your lap. That's what we need."
Noah nodded. "Take the day to catch up on sleep. If anything comes up, I'll come get you, Lucas."
We headed back to our room, the hallway's polished floors echoing our footsteps. Inside, Lexi shut the door and turned to me, her expression a mix of exhaustion and something else.
"That was intense," she said.
"Yeah," I said, sinking onto the bed. "What'd you make of it all?"
She sat beside me, her hand finding mine. "Your brothers—they're impressive. And Natalie ... she's a force. But the threats ... it's scary. Feels like we're chasing shadows."
"We are," I admitted. "But we'll catch them."
She leaned her head on my shoulder. "I trust you."
Those words hit hard, a reminder of why I'd stayed. We debriefed quietly, going over the details again—the attacks, the possible connections, the timeline. It helped, talking it out, but it didn't solve anything.
Lexi yawned, her body finally crashing from the adrenaline.
"You want to sleep?" I asked.
She shook her head, her eyes darkening as she looked at me. "No," she said, her voice low. "I don't know if it was the professionalism of that war room or meeting the wives and girlfriends, but I want to pretend, just for a few minutes, that we live here. That this is normal."
Normal.
The word hung between us, heavy with what it meant.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked, though I could see the heat in her eyes, the way her body shifted closer.
She stood, her fingers trailing down my arm. "Isn't it obvious?" she said, her voice a whisper as she reached for the hem of her shirt.
She pulled it over her head in one slow motion, and my breath caught.
She was bare underneath, her skin golden in the morning light filtering through the curtains. She didn't stop there—her pants followed, sliding down her legs, revealing every curve. She stood there, naked and unashamed, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to join her.
I rose, already hardening at the sight of her. I stripped quickly, my shirt hitting the floor, jeans following, until I was as bare as she was.
She stepped closer, her hands on my chest, tracing the lines of muscle, her touch igniting fire in my veins. I pulled her against me, our bodies pressing together, skin to skin, the heat between us building.
I kissed her then, hard and deep, my tongue claiming her mouth, tasting her. She moaned into the kiss, her hands roaming my back, nails digging in as she pulled me closer.
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her to the window, pressing her against the glass, the cool surface a contrast to the heat of our bodies. She gasped at the sensation, her back arching.
I thrust into her there, standing, her weight supported by my arms and the window, the angle allowing me to go deep. She was slick, wet, her body gripping me tight as I moved, the glass fogging around her from our breath and heat.
Her nails scraped my shoulders, her head falling back against the pane, exposing her throat for me to bite and suck.
"Yes, Lucas," she gasped, her legs tightening around me, pulling me deeper.
I spun us, laying her on the floor, the carpet soft beneath her.
I pulled out, flipping her onto her stomach, lifting her hips.
I went down on her from behind, savoring every lick until her legs trembled.
Then, I entered her from behind, leaning over her, my chest against her back, my hand sliding under her to find her pussy as I thrust slow and deep.
She pushed back against me, meeting every movement, her moans muffled by the carpet.
I pulled her up to her knees, my arm around her waist, holding her against me as I thrust up into her, the angle hitting different. She reached back, her hand in my hair, pulling me down for a kiss over her shoulder, our bodies moving in sync.
My two fingers found her clit, rubbing on either side as I thrust, the dual sensation making her shake.
She came hard, her body convulsing around me, her cries filling the room.
I didn't stop, flipping her onto her back, spreading her legs wide, hooking one over my shoulder to change the angle, thrusting deep and slow, savoring the way she clenched around me.
Her hands roamed my body, tracing the muscles of my chest, my abs, down to where we were joined, her fingers brushing as I moved, gripping the base of my cock. The sensation was intense, sending jolts through me, and I groaned, thrusting harder.
I pulled out, lifting her legs to my shoulders, entering her again, the angle deep. She screamed, her body arching, her hands gripping the carpet as I pounded into her, the rhythm fast and unrelenting.
She came again, her body clenching around me, and I followed, spilling inside her, the release so intense it left me shaking.
We lay there, tangled and sweaty, our breaths ragged, the room smelling of sex and salt air drifting through the cracked window.
I held her close, my arm around her, her head on my chest, and for a moment, the world felt right.
But the storm in my head was still there—the secrets, the choices, the pull of family and duty.
I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing, no closer to a decision than I had been that morning.