He lets it go.“Nitro, keep eyes on the cams.Ping us if you see that truck again.Riot, you hit the route by the bakery, then swing past Kelly’s.”
“On it,” I say.
I turn to leave, adrenaline burning away the last remnants of sleep and doubt.
This—this I know how to handle.
Threats.
Surveillance.
Protection.
My shit with Kelly is a mess, a knot I can’t untangle without pulling everything apart.But keeping her safe?
That’s simple.That’s not optional.That’s mine.
Four days of patrols and nothing.Not a single sighting of the truck.Except things still feel wrong.Something is looming.My third pass of the day by the bakery, I ease off the throttle as I pass, scanning shadows, listening for anything that shouldn’t be there.
Nothing.No movement.No strange vehicles parked nearby.
Still, my nerves hum.
I do a slow loop around the block, keeping to the edges.The town feels tense.Like the air itself is waiting to exhale.
Going by Kelly’s apartment I see a light on.I kill the engine half a block away, letting the bike coast the last few feet.Then I sit there in the quiet, watching, listening, every sense stretched thin.
I shouldn’t be here.Or at least, I shouldn’t be stopping like this.
But now?With talk of recon and leverage and some faceless asshole mapping our movements?
I can’t be anywhere else.
A curtain twitches on the second floor opening up.For a split second, a familiar silhouette appears.
Kelly.Hair piled up messily.Hand resting on the window frame as she looks out.
My heart lurches into my throat.
Even from here, even in dim light, I recognize the curve of her shoulders, the lines of her profile.She’s not close enough for me to see her expression, but I don’t need to.I know what her face looks like when she thinks she’s alone.
Thoughtful.A little sad.A little softer than she lets the world see.
She presses her forehead briefly to the glass, then steps back, disappearing from view.
The ache that rolls through me is almost physical.
I should leave.Should get back on patrol.Should focus on the unknown truck and whoever the hell is behind it.
Instead, I sit there for another few minutes, staring at the darkened window like a damn fool.
“You’re fine,” I murmur, as if she can hear me.“You’re safe.I’ll make damn sure of it.”
It’s a promise I shouldn’t make.
Especially not on a night when the world already feels off-kilter.
I finally start the bike again, forcing myself to pull away.I do another sweep past the edges of town, through the quieter neighborhoods, down the access road to the port.
