They told him it would be simple: maintain overwatch, blend in, and keep you alive.

You weren’t a threat, but someone out there believed you had access to sensitive information, thanks to your father’s former dealings with an arms syndicate Task Force 141 was actively dismantling. You’d been clean your whole life, but in this business, bloodlines mattered, and that put you on a list you didn’t ask to be on.

So Price was placed nearby. Not across the street. Not a few houses down.

Next door.

It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this, quiet surveillance, civilian protection, but there was something different about you. You knew who he was. Not by name, not by record. But you knew he was 141. You were told there would be someone close. Someone watching. And now, every time your eyes met across the fence or through the kitchen window, you didn’t flinch.

You watched him back.

At first, it was just a job. Keep track of your movements. Keep hostile eyes off you. Check the perimeter. Rotate comms. Report in.

But you made it complicated.

Not on purpose... you didn’t flirt, didn’t pry, but you moved like someone who didn’t want to be saved. You went on late-night walks without telling him. You turned off your phone when you needed space. You challenged the quiet security he’d built around you and it drove him mad.

The night you slipped out again, thinking no one would notice, he stepped out of the shadows and closed the distance in three long strides.

“Can’t protect you if you’re running off every time my back’s turned,” he said, voice low and edged in steel, those sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. “Now… you going to tell me where you were headed, or do I need to follow you to find out?”