I had locked my door that morning. I had double-checked before I left, had made sure every window was latched, every possible entrance sealed.
And yet, someone had been inside.
With shaking hands, I reached for the photo, my breath catching in my throat as I turned it over. It was Brooks and Logan walking into the nursing home.
The same picture they had texted me.
Except this time, there was a single word scrawled in black marker across the back.
TICK TOCK.
A cold, paralyzing terror ran through me.
It wasn’t just a threat anymore. It wasn’t just messages or warnings. They had broken into my home, had stood in my kitchen, had left this here just to remind me they could.
I could almost picture them, standing exactly where I was standing, laughing to themselves as they set the photo down, imagining my reaction. They wanted me scared.
And it was fucking working.
My hands were shaking as I moved through my apartment, looking for anything else they might have left behind. That was when I saw it.
Another Post-it note.
This time, stuck to my bathroom mirror.
HURRY UP.
My stomach lurched violently.
I ripped the note down, my vision blurring with panic as I backed out of the room. The feeling of being watched was unbearable now, like they had left pieces of themselves behind, waiting for me to crumble.
I needed to go.
The urge to flee hit me so hard my body acted before my mind could even catch up. Nothing was irreplaceable. Nothing mattered more than getting out before it was too late.
Moving purely on instinct, I grabbed my navy blue duffel bag from the closet, the one I had carried since I was seventeen, the one with duct tape on the sides, the one that had been packed and unpacked more times than I could count.
One bag.
That was my life.
I stuffed clothes inside with shaking hands, grabbing my laptop, my notes, anything I could fit. My breath was shallow, uneven, too fast, and I had to physically force myself to slow down, to focus.
I had to be smart about this.
They had broken in once. They would do it again.
I threw the bag over my shoulder and locked the door behind me, even though I knew it wouldn’t stop them. If they wanted in, they would get in.
But I wouldn’t be here when it happened.
I needed somewhere safe.
Not Fiona. She was on her honeymoon with Gideon, traveling to a tropical island, and I refused to ruin that for her. I could hide at Brooks’s? No. They knew where he lived. If I parked there, it would only lead them straight to him. Not tonight. Not ever.
I thought about heading to the restaurant, where I could hide in plain sight, but Victor had already confirmed he was waiting for me there. They could be sitting outside, watching, waiting for me to slip up.
I was running out of options.
