Chapter 16 – Lance #2
"And you don't have any of that yet?" Gavin asked.
"We have pieces," Silas said. "Suspicious deaths, questionable financial transfers, operations that came dangerously close to federal investigation. But nothing definitive. Nothing that would hold up in a family tribunal."
The frustration of it ate at me daily. So fucking close to having what we needed, but not quite there. Like trying to grab smoke.
"The problem is access. I haven't exactly been invited to family board meetings for the past decade. Can't just walk into DuLac headquarters and jack into their mainframe."
Gwen sat up straighter, and I recognized that look. Shit . She was about to suggest something that would make me want to punch walls.
"You might not have to," she said.
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You could go on a recon mission. At the benefit."
Fuck. Of course she'd connect those dots.
"What benefit?" Morgan asked.
"I've arranged for us to attend the Cordon Foundation benefit," I explained reluctantly. "It's a charity gala for disadvantaged youth—very high-profile, very exclusive. My grandfather is one of the primary investors, and he enjoys hosting it at Rosewood. It’s my childhood home."
"He'll be there?" The color drained from Morgan's face, and I wanted to reach for her hand, to offer comfort. Hell, I wanted to drag her out of here and hide her somewhere safe.
"He'll be there," I confirmed. "And more importantly, so will his inner circle. His advisors, his lieutenants, probably his brothers. It's one of the few times they all gather in the same place."
"Which means," Gwen continued, warming to her theme, "it's also one of the few times their security protocols might be focused outward instead of inward. If you could get access to his private office..."
Every protective instinct I had screamed in protest. "The place will be crawling with his men. Even with Morgan as cover, it would be nearly impossible to slip away unnoticed."
Atticus groaned and rubbed his temples. "I have a feeling I'm not going to like where this is going."
Gwen ignored him. "I can do it. I'm just going to have a look around their systems. I'll be in and out. No one will know I've been there. And honestly, I'm a better hacker than you and Micah."
Micah laughed. "Why am I catching strays?"
Atticus turned to his brother. "Isn't it true?"
Micah grumbled, "Well, yes, but still."
"Absolutely not," both Atticus and I said simultaneously.
The idea of Gwen—who'd just given birth, who had a newborn daughter, who was family in every way that mattered—walking into that den of vipers made my blood run cold.
"Think about it," Gwen pressed on. "I'm not a known quantity to them. I'm just Atticus's wife, Morgan's sister. New mother, completely harmless. I could attend as family support for Morgan's big debut. Who's going to suspect the new mother of corporate espionage?"
"The people who kill for a living," Atticus said flatly. "Gwen, we just had a baby. You can't?—"
"I can be a distraction," Morgan interrupted, and my heart stopped.
"No. Absolutely fucking not," I snarled, the words ripping from my throat like a battle cry.
"Lance, if you need to create a diversion, keep your grandfather's attention focused somewhere else while Gwen works..." Morgan continued, looking directly at me with those golden eyes that made me want to do unspeakable things.
I turned to stare at her, every cell in my body rebelling against what she was suggesting. The beast inside me roared to life, demanding I lock her away somewhere safe.
"Why not?" she challenged.
I could see the fire building in her eyes. The same determination that had made her walk away from me when she discovered my lies. The same strength that had her standing up to me now, instead of cowering.
"You said yourself that he'll be watching us. Watching to see if our relationship is real. What better way to convince him than a very public, very dramatic display of the devoted fiancée?"
"Morgan," I said, putting every ounce of command I possessed into her name. "You don't understand what you're suggesting."
"I understand perfectly," she shot back, spine straightening in that way that always made my cock hard and my heart race.
"I understand that I can't just sit here and do nothing while other people risk their lives to save mine.
I understand that I'm not some fragile flower who needs to be protected from everything.
I have a great life. I'd like to get back to it.
I've got a lot on my plate; the sooner I handle this, the better. Besides, we need to present me to him anyway. We’d be killing two birds with one well-placed stone. "
But you are fragile. You're the most precious fucking thing in my world, and I can't lose you. Won't lose you.
"You're already marrying me," I said, fighting to keep my voice level when what I really wanted to do was roar. "That's enough."
"No, it's not enough," she argued. "I can do more. I need to do more. This is my life we're talking about. My safety. My future. I can't just be a passive participant in my own rescue."
The logic was sound. I knew it was sound. But logic meant nothing when every instinct I had was screaming at me to lock her away somewhere safe, somewhere my grandfather could never touch her.
Silas cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "If I may."
I nodded curtly, though I already knew I wasn't going to like whatever he was about to say.
"I understand the impulse to protect the people we love," Silas said, his eyes moving between me and Atticus. "I spent decades doing exactly that. But sometimes, the people we're trying to protect are also our greatest assets."
He stood, moving to the screen and pulling up architectural plans. Plans I recognized.
"Rosewood. I know it intimately—I helped design the security protocols when it was renovated fifteen years ago.
The Cordon benefit will be held in the Grand Ballroom.
Adjacent to that is a private reception area, and beyond that, a set of stairs that lead to a suite of offices that Charles uses or used to. "
"You're talking about breaking into those offices," Pierce said.
"I'm talking about a coordinated operation," Silas corrected. "One that requires precise timing, multiple diversions, and people willing to play very specific roles."
He clicked to the next slide, showing the properties layout in detail. Every corridor, every exit, every blind spot. I'd studied these plans myself over the years, looking for weaknesses, for opportunities.
"Security will be heightened for the event, but it will also be divided. External threats, crowd control, VIP protection. The servers we need to access are in Charles's private office. The same office where he'll be conducting business throughout the evening."
"So we need him out of that office," Gavin said.
"And his security focused elsewhere," Rowan added.
"Which brings us back to Morgan's suggestion," Silas said, turning to face her directly. "A dramatic scene. Something public enough to demand immediate attention, private enough to require Charles to handle it personally. Or it could be as simple as a drawn out meeting."
My hands clenched into fists on the table, rage flooding my system like molten metal.
"You want to use her as bait." The words came out as a snarl.
"The woman who just watched my grandfather put a bullet in someone's head three days ago.
Who's still having nightmares about blood on concrete.
You want to put her in a fucking room with that monster and use her as bait. "
I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt her. Anyone.
"I want to use her as an actress," Silas corrected calmly. "Playing a role that she's uniquely qualified for."
"And what role is that?" Morgan asked.
"The devoted bride," Silas said. "The young woman who's head over heels in love and can't wait to start her new life. Who wants to show her fiancé off, maybe ask for a dance at the most romantic moment possible."
My vision went red around the edges. The idea of Morgan putting herself in harm's way, of making herself vulnerable to my grandfather's manipulation and potential violence, made the monster inside me howl for blood.
I'll tear him apart with my bare hands if he touches her.
"A simple request for a dance," Silas continued. "Something that would require Charles to step away from his office to handle personally. He can't refuse his heir's fiancée, especially in front of witnesses."
"Leaving a window for Gwen," Atticus said reluctantly. "I hate this plan."
"It could work," Micah said thoughtfully. "Morgan's got the acting chops for it. I've seen her sell some pretty elaborate stories when she wanted to get out of family dinners."
The casual way they were discussing putting Morgan in danger made my teeth ache from clenching them so hard. These were my people, my chosen family, and they were talking about using the woman I loved as a weapon against the most dangerous man I'd ever known.
"Lance?" Morgan said softly. "Talk to me."
I couldn't. Not without saying things that would expose exactly how much this was tearing me apart. How the thought of her in the same room as my grandfather, playing games with a man who viewed human life as expendable, made me want to tear down the world to keep her safe.
"You want me to put you in a room with a man who kills people for sport," I finally managed, my voice barely controlled. "To make yourself a target."
"I'm already a target," she reminded me, and the truth of it was like a knife to the gut. "The difference is, this way, I'm a target with a plan. With backup. With people who care about me making sure I'm protected."
"And if something goes wrong? If he sees through the act? If his security isn't as distracted as we hope?"
Silas answered before she could. "Then we abort. Morgan, you'll be wearing a wire. The moment anything feels wrong, you signal us, and we extract you immediately."
"What about the servers?" Gwen asked. "If we abort before I can access them?—"
"Then we find another way," I said flatly, and I meant it. "No piece of information is worth risking any of your lives."
I'd lived without that data for ten years. I could live without it longer if it meant keeping them safe.
"But this might be our only chance," Morgan pointed out. "You said yourself that getting access to their systems is nearly impossible. If we don't take this opportunity..."
"We find another way," I repeated, but even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
Because she was right. This might be our only shot. And if we didn't take it, if we couldn't get the evidence we needed to turn my uncles against my grandfather, then this protection was temporary at best. Eventually, he'd find a way around it. Eventually, Morgan would be in danger again.
Atticus leaned back in his chair, studying the architectural plans. "What's the timeline for this?"
"The benefit is in three days," Silas said. "Which gives us just enough time to prepare without giving Charles time to change security protocols if he gets suspicious."
Three days. Seventy-two hours to prepare for what would either be our salvation or our destruction.
"Three days," Gwen muttered. "Morgan, you'll need to publicly be excited and exuberant about your engagement. It needs to be public. So let's go dress shopping. Bring a friend. It'll look more real."
"I can handle that," Morgan said.
"We'll also need to make sure our engagement looks legitimate," I added reluctantly. "Charles will have done his research by then."
"Easy enough to backdate some social media posts," Micah said. "Make it look like you got engaged at the welcome home party. I can create a whole digital history if needed."
"So we're really doing this," Morgan said, and I could hear the weight of realization in her voice. "We're going to walk into the lion's den and try to rob him blind."
"We're going to end this," I corrected, covering her hand with mine. The contact sent electricity up my arm, a reminder of everything I had to lose. "Once and for all."
Silas nodded approvingly. "They'll have to be perfect," he warned, his eyes finding mine. "Charles has spent decades reading people, manipulating situations. One wrong move, one moment of hesitation, and this whole thing falls apart."
Fan-fucking-tastic .
We had to be perfect against a man who'd spent his entire life perfecting the art of death and manipulation.
"Then we don't hesitate," Morgan said, and the strength in her voice surprised me. "We go in, we play our parts, and we get what we need to end this nightmare."
"You're sure about this?" I asked, giving her one last chance to back out, to choose safety over this insane gamble.
She met my gaze directly. "Not even the craziest thing to happen this week, so I'm good. Let's get married."