Page 91 of Taken Off Camera
Instead of mocking, the question holds genuine curiosity.
I draw a deep breath, organizing my thoughts. “We combine approaches. Saint’s right that Travis might be working with someone else, and killing him could destroy a lead. But the Rockfords have resources Saint doesn’t.”
Saint’s boot nudges mine under the table in acknowledgment.
“Saint has contacts who can apply pressure without leaving official traces,” I continue, warmingto my idea. “The Rockfords have the legal power to crush someone through legitimate channels. If we combine both to trap Travis between street justice and corporate destruction, we can break him without killing him.”
The room falls silent again, but this time the quality of the silence is contemplative rather than judgmental.
“That… could work,” Ezra admits, respect flickering in his expression.
“A pincer movement,” Gabriel adds with a predatory smile. “Corporate death from above, street justice from below.”
“And we get our information without permanent solutions,” Saint concludes with satisfaction.
My skin prickles with nervous heat. Today, I’m taking an active role in a man’s downfall instead of allowing Saint to handle it for me. The ease with which I slipped into this side of their world fills me with both pride and discomfort.
Sebastian’s expression softens. “An elegant solution that meets all objectives.”
The praise washes over me, warming corners of my heart left cold for as long as I can remember. For all the moral complexities of this moment, beingvalued for my mind rather than protected for my status feels good.
“We’ll need to coordinate timing,” Milo says, already typing notes into his tablet. “Legal pressure first, to establish a paper trail for deniability.”
“Then street pressure,” Saint adds. “When he’s already off balance.”
“I can freeze his accounts through regulatory channels,” Ezra offers. “Nothing illegal, just bureaucratic hell.”
“I’ll talk to some people who can make his neighborhood less comfortable,” Saint counters. “So he can’t run back home when he burns through his cash.”
The planning unfolds with frightening efficiency, roles assigned and timelines established.
Throughout, Sebastian watches me, his attention never straying far from my face. When our eyes lock, an understanding deeper than words passes between us. He sees me now, not just as his Omega to protect, but as a true partner.
“So we’re agreed,” Sebastian concludes as the planning winds down. “We move forward with Micah’s approach. I want daily updates. He’ll crawl out of his hole when he’s pressed hard enough, and that’s when we’ll get him.”
Chairs scrape back from the table as the meeting adjourns. The Rockfords disperse, Gabriel with a parting wink at Saint, Ezra typing on his phone as he exits.
Saint lingers, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, before Milo shows him something on his tablet, and the two move away, their heads bent in conversation.
Sebastian rises last, circling the table to stand beside my chair. His palm cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin in a gesture so tender it’s hard to believe it comes from the same man who orchestrated a campaign to destroy another human being’s life.
“You did well,” he murmurs.
The simple praise carries more weight than it should. Today, I earned a voice at the Rockford table, but their protection doesn’t come for free. It demands participation, alignment, and complicity.
As Sebastian helps me from my chair, I can already sense the shift taking root. The Rockford name carries power, but it’s coated in blood, and now some of it stains my hands, too.
For better or worse, I’ve claimed my place in the family.
Travis will be stopped.
And I will never be the same.
24
Sebastian studies me with concern. “That was a lot. How are you doing?”
My fingers play with the hem of my hoodie, tugging at a loose thread. “Do you always plan murders over breakfast, or was it a special occasion for my benefit?”
