"Adjacent to that world." I navigated around a delivery truck, headlights cutting through sheets of rain. "My team operated in areas where traditional military presence wasn't... acknowledged."
"Black ops?" There was no judgment in his voice, only fascination.
"That term makes it sound more glamorous than it was." I managed a wry smile. "Much of it involved gathering intelligence, establishing networks, and identifying threats as they materialized. Sometimes, there was more direct intervention."
Alex rubbed his cheek.
"I've seen operations like this before." I surprised myself with my candid admission. "Not domestically, and not exactly the same, but similar patterns. This level of surveillance, with the escalating intimidation tactics, is not random harassment. It's a message."
"What kind of message?"
"That they can reach you anywhere. There's nowhere to hide." I glanced at him. "They designed it to make you feel like surrender is the only option."
Alex clenched his teeth. "The historical parallel would be siege warfare—psychological rather than physical. I'm not surrendering."
"I know. That's why they're escalating."
We lapsed into silence as I navigated through a residential area, houses hunched against the storm, windows glowing like beacons in the gathering darkness.
"I lied to you earlier," I said, the words scraping out. "Back at the apartment—when you caught me on the phone. I told you it was work checking in. It wasn't. I was talking to Marcus."
Alex turned his head toward me, silent but listening.
"I've been keeping him updated. Trying to pull in extra backup without dragging you deeper into it."
I tightened my hands on the steering wheel."I thought I was protecting you by not telling you. I was wrong."
I drove through two more turns in silence.
"You know, this isn't easy for me, Alex. Letting people in and admitting to weaknesses."
"Trusting someone isn't a weakness."
"In my world, it often was." I navigated a sharp turn. "Trust was a luxury we couldn't afford. We compartmentalized information for a reason. If you didn't know something, they couldn't pull it out of you under questioning."
The words hung between us, heavy with implications about my past that I'd never discussed with anyone outside the unit.
Alex was quiet for a long moment. "But this isn't that world anymore."
"No, it's not."
His hand moved from the seat to rest on my forearm, warm and grounding. "You're trying to protect me."
"I am."
I turned onto the street leading to my apartment building. "There's something else you should know." I drove into the parking garage beneath my building. "The people behind this aren't merely corporate thugs. Their tactics suggest government training, possibly intelligence community backgrounds."
"Former operatives?"
"Maybe. Or current ones operating off the books." I parked in my assigned space, killing the engine. "Either way, they have resources, connections, and a high tolerance for risk. It's also impossible to tell whether they have any government connections. Marcus is scouring the backgrounds of anyone we ask to help."
"So what's our next move?"
"We regroup. Secure our position. Evaluate our options." I turned to face him fully. "And we stay together."
Once we reached my door, I again positioned myself to enter first. The apartment received us with a fortress's embrace—solid walls that predated modern construction shortcuts and windows placed to eliminate direct sightlines from surrounding buildings. Everything was as I'd left it—coffee mugs still on the counter, my tactical vest on the kitchen table, and blinds half-drawn against the world outside.
Unlike Alex's bright, open space designed to support intellectual exploration, my apartment was built for containment and defense—corners visible from multiple angles and furniture positioned to provide cover if needed. What his space offered in warmth and culture, mine provided in security and tactical advantage.
