Me:Not yet.
Arrow:Then it can wait until morning.
I growl and pocket the phone. No. Thiscan’twait until morning.
This isn’t just any girl. This is a professional pain in my ass with surveillance footage, top-tier hacking skills, and the ability to bypass my personal firewalls—both digital and emotional.
She knows I’m watching her.
And shelikes it.
I’m halfway through my beer when there’s a knock at the door.
Of course.
Of course she wouldn’ttextlike a normal stalker.
No, she has toshow up.
I swing the door open and there she is—leaning against the frame like a damn Bond villain, all leather and smirk.
“Hi, Knight.” She grins. “Miss me?”
“Lark.” My voice is flat. “Did you really break into my apartment to drink my milk?”
She tilts her head, faux-innocent. “Technically, it was expired. So really, I was doing you a favor.”
“Youdo nothave clearance to be in my space.”
“Neither does Arrow,” she says sweetly. “And yet you let him crash on your couch.”
“That’s different.”
She steps past me like she owns the place, and I let her—why do Ilet her?—because part of me wants to know what the hell she’s really after.
She walks over to my wall of monitors and raises a brow.
“Dual screens. Solid RAM. Not bad for a vigilante who works in data entry.”
My jaw clenches. “You broke into my work computer?”
“I’m not saying yes,” she says, spinning slowly in my chair, “but I’m also notnotsaying yes.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Oh, Knight.” She stops spinning and pins me with those wild eyes. “I’m notplaying. I’m recruiting.”
I fold my arms. “Excuse me?”
She stands, walks up to me, and pokes a finger into my chest. “You think you’re running some kind of underground justice club, but you’re soft. You leave trails. You don’tfinishthe job.”
“We get results.”
“You getclose. I can help you finish.”
“By blackmailing me? By sending me videos I didn’t authorize? By tracking my IP address?”
Her smile is feral. “Exactly.”
