Chapter 32
LUCAS
The kitchen at Dominion Hall smelled like a warm promise, butter and cinnamon weaving through the air as Delphine worked her magic at the stove.
The long dining table was crowded with plates—croissants flaking golden, fresh fruit piled high, and a tray of biscuits so fluffy they looked like they could float.
My stomach growled, loud enough that Ryker glanced over with a smirk.
I was starving, the kind of hunger that came from too many hours on edge, too much adrenaline, too little sleep. The brothers and their women filled the room with easy chatter, voices overlapping like a family that had weathered worse storms than this.
It reminded me of mornings back in Montana, when Mom would splurge on blueberry pancakes, heaps of them stacked high for me and my brothers. We'd shovel them down, syrup dripping, laughing over nothing, the world outside our ranch a distant hum.
Here, with the bay glinting through the windows and the cicadas starting their morning drone, it felt close to that—home, despite the world caving in outside.
I grabbed a biscuit, splitting it open to slather it with blackberry jam, the tart sweetness hitting my tongue.
Atlas was telling a story about a fishing trip gone wrong, Anna laughing so hard she nearly spilled her coffee.
Ryker was ribbing Elias about some tech glitch that had apparently cost him a bet, while Isabel rolled her eyes but grinned.
Ethan and Natalie weren't there—they'd left after the war room meeting—but the rest of the crew carried on, the vibe loose and warm, like we weren't sitting on a powder keg of stalker threats and family secrets.
I leaned back in my chair, letting the moment sink in, the weight of Byron Dane's lies and Dominion Hall's mysteries fading for a second under the clink of forks and the low rumble of laughter.
Then Lexi walked in, and the air shifted.
She looked ... different. Her blonde hair was loose, catching the morning light, her borrowed shirt tucked into pants that hugged her curves. But her eyes—those green eyes that usually burned with fire—were clouded, guarded in a way I hadn't seen before.
Something had changed.
My gut clenched. Was she having second thoughts? About us? About this? My mind went straight there, like a reflex, and I hated it.
Why did I assume that?
Was it because I'd been pushing too hard, letting myself dream of a life where she wasn't acting, where I wasn't hunting bad guys?
No, that wasn't it. She was too good at what she did, a star who lit up the screen like nobody else. I'd never ask her to stop. But what I was starting to picture—fuck, what I wanted—was a life where, when she wasn't filming and I wasn't chasing shadows, we could get away. Really get away.
Someplace quiet, where the world left us alone, where no one cared about her face on a billboard or my name in a headline. Just us, maybe a dog or two, a porch with a view, and no cameras in sight.
She caught my gaze and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"You okay?" I asked, keeping my voice low as she slid into the chair beside me.
"Fine," she said, reaching for a croissant. "Just tired."
I didn't buy it, but I didn't push. Not here, not with the whole damn family watching. Instead, I passed her the jam. "Try this. It's better than it has any right to be."
She took it, her fingers brushing mine, and for a second, the spark was there, electric and familiar. "Thanks," she said, her voice softer now, but that guarded look lingered.
We ate, the conversation turning to lighter things. Isabel asked Lexi about her favorite roles, and Lexi lit up, telling a story about a comedy shoot where the director let the cast improv for hours.
I chimed in, teasing her about whether she'd ever consider a dog as a co-star. "Big one," I said. "Loyal, no ego. Better than most leading men."
She laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in my chest. "Only if it's got better lines than Benji."
Ryker snorted. "That's a low bar."
The banter flowed, back and forth, the brothers piling on with stories of their own—Atlas's hound that once stole a whole roast, Elias's theory that dogs were smarter than half the tech he worked with.
Lexi leaned into it, her smile real now, and for a moment, it felt like we belonged here, like this could be our normal. But that edge in her eyes didn't fade, and I couldn't shake the feeling it had to do with me.
What was it? Maybe Lexi was just scared—Hannah's attack was fresh, personal, a message meant for her.
But there was something else, something she wasn't saying.
I leaned over, keeping my voice low. "Should we take some food up to Hannah?"
Her eyes flicked to mine, and there it was—a brief, sharp edge, like a blade catching the light. "She's probably sleeping," she said, her tone too careful. "I'll check on her later."
I nodded, but my instincts screamed. This was about Hannah. Something she didn't trust herself to share yet.
I let it go for now, but I wasn't done with it.
Lexi stood, brushing crumbs from her pants. "I need to get back to the set. Franklin's probably pacing a hole in the dock by now."
"I'll go with you," I said, already rising.
She nodded, but her smile was tight, like she was holding something back.
We were just leaving the kitchen when Ryker snapped his fingers and motioned me over. He held out his phone, his expression serious. "From Ethan and Natalie," he said. "They've got a lead on the aviator impersonator."
I took the phone, scanning the message.
My pulse kicked up—this could be the clue we'd been waiting for.
Noah stepped closer, reading over my shoulder. "I can run with it," he said. "Meet them, see where it leads."
Lexi cut in before I could respond. "Lucas should go," she said, her voice firm. "I'll be fine on set. Security's tight, and Hannah will be there."
I shook my head, my instincts roaring. "No. I need to be with you."
She met my gaze, resolute, her eyes holding that same guarded edge. "I'll be fine," she said again, softer this time, but with a steel I hadn't heard before. "Go. This is important."
Every part of me wanted to argue, to lock her away where no stalker, no camera, no threat could touch her. But her expression stopped me—fierce, unwavering, like she was daring me to trust her strength.
I respected her too much to fight her on it, even if it killed me to let her go.
"All right," I said, my voice low. "But you stay with security. No wandering off. Promise me."
She smiled, a flicker of warmth breaking through. "Promise."
Noah clapped my shoulder. "Let's move. Ethan's waiting."
I glanced at Lexi one last time, memorizing the curve of her jaw, the fire in her eyes. She'd be escorted back to the set by one of Dominion Hall's drivers, a guy Noah trusted, but it didn't stop the knot in my gut.
Something was coming—I could feel it, that same itch I'd had in China before things went sideways. But she'd made her call, and I had to respect it.
Noah and I headed out, the morning sun glaring off the black SUV as we climbed in. The city stretched out beside the road, its surface calm, deceptive, like it was holding its breath.
Lexi's face lingered in my mind, that guarded look haunting me. Whatever she was holding back, I'd find out. But first, we had a lead to chase, and I wasn't about to let it slip.
As we pulled onto the road, Noah glanced over. "You good?"
"Yeah," I lied, my eyes on the horizon. "Let's find this bastard."