I roll my eyes, but my hands tremble slightly as I pack up the kit. I’m too aware of how warm his skin is under my fingertips, of the way Asher watches us from the other side of the room. And Damon… Damon hasn’t said a word, but I can feel his presence behind me like a live wire.
Zane must sense the tension because he shifts, wincing as he adjusts in the chair. “Relax, doc,” he says. “I’m not dying.”
“No, but next time, you might not be so lucky,” I snap, more sharply than I intended.
His smirk fades. “That’s what we signed up for, Mia.”
I stare at him, frustration and fear tangling in my chest. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
Silence.
Damon clears his throat. “We need to reassess security. This was a warning. Next time, it won’t be.”
As I turn to leave, Asher catches my arm, his grip firm but not forceful. The moment I meet his gaze, something shifts. The professional detachment he’s been clinging to cracks, revealing the raw emotion beneath.
“I can’t step back,” he whispers. “Not if it means failing to protect you.”
His voice is hoarse and strained, like it costs him something to admit this. My heart clenches, because I know what he’s really saying. This isn’t just about the job anymore.
“Then don’t,” I say simply.
His fingers flex around my arm, and he looks like he’s about to say something. For a second, I think he’s going to pull me closer. That he might kiss me right here, in front of Zane and Damon.
I step back, breath unsteady. The space between us feels charged. Dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with Jason Whitmore.
Without another word, I start walking away, but I can still feel his eyes on me.
Asher shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “I’ve got another week. I’ll do what I can during then.”
The words land like a physical blow. A week. He’s leaving in a week. I think about my daughters, and wonder how many more losses they can take. How many more I can take.
“He always finds us,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.
“Yeah,” Zane mutters. “Strange.”
He picks up Emma’s stuffed unicorn, the one Jason touched. Something in his expression sharpens. He runs his fingers over the seams, feeling for something. Then, without hesitation, he grips the tail and rips it off.
“Hey!” I object, reaching for it.
But Zane ignores me, sliding his fingers inside the torn fabric. His eyes darken. A second later, he pulls out a tiny electronic device, no bigger than a coin.
A tracker.
The room goes deathly quiet.
I stare at the bug, my breath coming too fast. My stomach twists, nausea clawing up my throat. All this time. He’s been listening. Watching. My hands curl into fists.
“Aren’t you going to destroy it?” I manage to ask, my voice shaking.
Asher shakes his head. “Then he’ll know we found it. We’ll leave it here.”
Damon’s eyes narrow. “We’re done playing defense. Pack up. We can’t stay here.”
CHAPTER 15
DAMON
The new safehouseis a cabin tucked deep in the woods, far from the nearest road, with nothing but miles of trees and the glassy stretch of the lake behind it. It’s a seven hour drive from the last one and we took several stops along the way just in case we were being followed. The air smells clean, crisp, untouched by city life. The lake reflects the dawn in hues of orange and pink, rippling softly in the early morning breeze. Birds stir in the trees, their calls echoing across the still water. It should be peaceful.
